A Tribe Called Quest: The Never-Ending Dig

Alec Mansion, Tommy Mandel, Harvey Mantel, Manfred Mann’s Earth Band, Carl Marshall, Mariposa, Cotton Mather… these are just a few of the artists whose albums I took down from the shelves this morning.  I can see from the sticker I’ve put on the inner sleeve that there’s a couple of tracks I dig on the Mansion album, there’s (the definitive?) Christo Redentor on one of the two Mantel records but I only recognise one or two of the other titles on those, and sure, Mariposa is on Is It Balearic? so it’s bound to be good, but I can’t recall a single track listed here.

I remember picking up the MMEB record in Prague on a BAOL tour years ago but what does it sound like?  I haven’t left myself any hint as to whether there’s gold in the grooves, so I stick it on.  The only Manfred Mann record I’ve really got into is One Way Glass from their Chapter Three incarnation, and that was because it had such a heavy drum-break it wouldn’t have sounded out of place in the (ahem) glory days of big beat. It’s fair to say that this one, Somewhere In Afrika, has a different vibe entirely: early 80s synths, traditional African rhythms and a lengthy version of Bob Marley’s Redemption Song.  It’s not brilliant all the way through, especially the Marley cover, but there are enough moments to put it on the ‘keep’ pile.  One track jumps out sufficiently for me to give it another spin, and then another, and it’s taken off the pile and into the bag for the next Guilty Feet night.  

The Tommy Mandel album is cued up and we go again.

The same routine.  Listening to each track, weighing up whether to keep it or make space for something new.  Optimism abounds, after all I bought it brand new so there must be something that makes it worth keeping, and really hoping that there is something extra, just that one track perhaps, that is worth me counting the BPMs for, worthy of me leaving myself a sticky note for future digging; a little reminder that says “give this a play”.

This is the joy of having collected records for nearly 40 years: A never-ending quest of rediscovery.  I’ve got around 5,000 artist albums these days and that’s my limit – new ones come in, others move on.  It’s not a collection that can get bigger – space limitations have put paid to that – so it’s evolving and improving; and, hopefully, so are the records I play out.

As a DJ I’ve always wanted to play records that make people’s ears perk up, to create those “what’s this?” moments. I’ve never really wanted to play the same songs as everyone else, and I’ve a genuine desire to share music with people: I’m not interested in cover-ups or keeping titles to myself, I want credit to go where credit is due, and for people who want to own records to be able to find them.  And to do this, I look towards my own collection and rediscover nuggets that, perhaps, others have missed, or time has been kind to, and try and get them out there.

When I was a kid starting out in the DJ world it felt like the best way to build a collection was through reading the club charts in Record Mirror and listening to the promos getting their first spin on Jeff Young’s Radio One show. After all, these were the records my peers were playing so they must be good, right? I hadn’t really clocked that every wannabe DJ in the country was doing the same thing. When I received my first promos in the mid-90s I slavishly played the lot out, finding something positive to say about records I really didn’t like, simply to ensure I remained on their list. I guess that’s a little like Beatport now, or the deluge of digital promos – I still smile when I see one of today’s generation talking about ‘digging through all the classics online’ or a DJs setlist that is full of the latest promos and little else. It’s not that anyone can do that, as such, but it dilutes one of the key qualities of DJing – selection.

With algorithms dominating the role of DJs in discovering and sharing lost and forgotten music feels more important than ever. We’ve got a role to play, our job is to keep things interesting and encourage people to support record shops, labels and artists and that doesn’t mean sending them to Spotify! Digging through our own collections is a great way to start.

The best DJs out there right now are ones who turn audiences onto music they’ve not heard before. It doesn’t have to be new, it could have sat on your shelves for years, just like Manfred Mann and Tommy Mandel have here. These DJs are still taking risks, still unearthing gems and telling you about them. They’re not beholden to trends or likes or Mixcloud charts: they’re the ones you’ll find still digging in crates, enthusiasm undimmed, appetite unsated, still travelling the world on their never-ending quest. 

Salute the tribe!  And join them.