brian belle-fortune
interview for rinse magazine #2

nico oved, sept. 2002

All Crew Muss Big Up, the independently published and brilliantly written book on jungle/drum and bass culture is a true breath of fresh air among a field where everyone with a bachelor's degree who's been to a rave is attempting to write the definitive (and often overzealously academic) document of this culture.

Avoiding the structure and tone of an objective non-fiction account, All Crew's author, Brian Belle-Fortune, instead tells his story through three personas: the journalist, the partygoer and the industry insider. What follows are a series wonderfully informal anecdotes and interviews with original players from 4Hero's Dego to MC DET. Though anything but an exhaustive account of everything jungle, All Crew is nevertheless as honest as it gets. Belle-Fortune traces jungle from its prehistory in the field parties to its takeover of the clubs through the eyes and social reach of an individual. He tells his story in the same way that you'd tell yours.

Brian's resume includes being the individual who first brought jungle to BBC1 in the show One in the Jungle. He was also the label manager at DJ Ron's now defunct London Some' Ting Records, has had stints at MTV Europe and BBC TV and still spins as DJ Zy:on.

Two things you touched on early in your book were the early Acid House field parties and the role of the pirates in the growth of the scene. However, what often came up when discussing these things were the authorities' reaction to them. Tell us a little about your experiences with and without the authorities and whether you think we as a scene have moved on, or will these problems continue always?

We have to see everything in the context of that time. Shows - especially on BBC1 - were governed by people who didn't understand or want to promote new, cutting-edge music. They were stuck in the rock/pop loop, which tied into the whole established record industry. Those people looked down on us and positively ridiculed most new waves. Now, a little over ten years down the line, you realise that the public were being short changed.

It goes across the board. We turned our backs on little discos with shitty music, where they charged loads of money and had fascists on the doors. Give us a field, cellar, street or warehouse any time. We'll vote with our hands in the air. It's funny now that one of the few positive things that have happened in the notorious government backed Millennium Dome was a series of New Years raves. How ironic is that?

The scene has moved on in that it's grown across the globe in terms of recognisable cultural iconography. There's drum and bass driving Nintendo ads and Goldie acting the heavy with James Bond and the East Enders (a top BBC soap). Actually, I'm surprised that there hasn't been more dnb in films. I mean the Matrix was good - but imagine it with some mad-up drum and bass in the system; Hollywood , take the red pill.

We've also changed within the scene. People, the dances and the music are a lot less moody. There's even old skool happiness. When I went down to Lemon D and Dillinja's Valve night in Brixton last September, I have to admit, the place felt like a festival. As Missy Elliott would say, there was no one ‘givin me the side eye' or ‘tryin to take away my blunt'. I was sitting near the decks thinking, ‘I'm not leaving this place for a long time. ‘Cos this is exactly as it should be.

For One in the Jungle, instead of fighting against authority, now you attempted to play into them. Why did you leave after the first season? Thoughts about wanting it, working for it, getting it and then leaving it.

All I did with One in the Jungle was take the format, DJs, producers and MCs from the underground scene, especially pirate radio and - with the acquiescence of the BBC powers that be - took the music to the nation. To be fair, there were several people at the Beeb at the time who could see the angles and were instrumental in making things happen. Jungle and my One in the Jungle proposal came along at the right time. I've posted the original proposal and some other related paperwork on the All Crew web site.

However, it has been said of the BBC that they are a great organisation with a poor record of keeping talented or innovative staff - if that's what I was. So there did come a day very early on when my services were dispensed with and they continued to run things themselves. By then I'd set the thing up, engaged the artists and they, in that shabby music business way, asked for my contact numbers explaining that ‘health and safety regulations' meant that I could no longer enter the building. So I didn't leave so much as be pushed.

When I did work inside ‘the belly of the beast' at Radio One, there was a priceless moment when the agent (plugger) for Oasis met me and asked if I could get the jungle DJs to play such and such a tune. It was with great satisfaction that I could say, ‘The DJs play what they and the people want.'

The hard edge of actually doing the shows was the best thing. If I had to write down some of my top 20 life's moments, a couple would be from the One in the Jungle sessions. You have to remember I was just a raver, and suddenly not only was I putting together a fantasy DJ/MC line-up but watching it come together in front of my eyes. Think that you write Brockie & DET, Rap & Moose or Gerald and Navigator down on a list, call ‘em up, hang out with them for a while and they play a set in the same room. Oh Lord - that was a buzz.

The artists would invite a few mates along, I'd invite a few mates along, the BBC co-producer would frown at the smell of the green and we would party. Recording Gerald and Nav's session in the early hours with just me, my girlfriend Kate and a couple of other people around in the studio was priceless. One of those moments when you know you've all contributed to something so good. I'm glad to have been part of it.

With One in the Jungle, BBC TV, MTV Europe and all those media projects, I only stayed or wanted to stay long enough to get the job done, say what had to be said and get out of there. But I do have to say that in a strange way the BBC did me a huge favour. Those people were so petty. In the end I went back to my ‘day job'. And it was my sojourn with some nasty-low-life media types - that allowed me to flip back [to] work [with] former colleagues who are worth their weight in gold. My ‘day job'? - I'm an intensive care nurse working at Great Ormond Street Hospital for Sick Children in the Cardiac Intensive Care Unit in central London. Let's say it was good for so many reasons to get back to the sanity of my ICU - dignity intact. [The BBC] was a horrible experience at the time, but so many other positive things have sprung from it that I won't complain.

Tell us about the label you worked on (DJ Ron's London Some' Ting). What happened?

Well I can laugh about it now 'cos the court cases are done and the judge has long since given his rulings.

DJ Ron was actually the first jungle DJ to play a session on Radio One back in late ‘94. I guess that also got me thinking about putting jungle on the radio then. Anyway, I met Ron quite a few times and just after I'd left MTV Europe and had started writing All Crew, he called me up to offer me a job. Like many artists, he needed someone ‘sensible' to sort out his appointments and the business. Initially there was just me and Ron.

I found it difficult to effect changes, didn't get paid, had to leave the office and took the whole matter to court. I almost lost my home. It was another mini music business battle. I won the case and was awarded some money, which I never saw a penny of.

So I was there for about 6 months tops. Most of the hilarious moments happened around the characters that would turn up to the office. Jack Frost, GQ, 5ive'0, people from Ron's crew: those guys would just start chattin', puffin', telling some yarn and you'd be rolling around laughing to the point of crying and holding your sides in pain. As ‘London Some' Ting staff' I'd get on to all the guestlists and once travelled hundreds of miles in a Porsche for a night's raving in Manchester.

There was also the day when a company sponsored club excursion to Spain ended up on the front page of at least one tabloid newspaper here. It seems that some of the punters on the flight treated the aircraft like a regular coach trip to the coast and were swigging personal alcohol, building spliffs and liberally smoking in the cabin. Passengers ended up being arrested on the Spanish tarmac and the story ended up on the front page as ‘Dreadlock Holidaze'.

There's a lot of people who do get things done in the scene and are obviously very serious and focused about what they're doing and do actually achieve the best. However, some bits of the scene that I touched - well, that wasn't the vibe. Rather than put them down let's say that I have a character defect which means whilst being laid back, I like things done yesterday and to go by the numbers. That makes me ideal for nursing in intensive care and not so good at hanging out, achieving nothing for days in an office. Sorry, but I reckon what ever you do in life, if you don't work hard at it, you shouldn't be surprised when it all goes ‘Pete Tong' - that's Cockney for ‘wrong'.

What are your new projects? Tell us about them.

I am writing another book, but it's about my work rather than the dnb scene. I'd call my book "Like ER - Without The Shouting" but it might well be called "Hospital Stories". It's a privilege to be involved with people and their lives in ICU. And as Nicky Blackmarket was saying to me last week, ‘You must see some serious, mad things.' I do and would like to share them.

There's something major I'd like to mention. In December '99 I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. It's a degenerative disease of the nervous system and cruelly hits may young people in their prime. The thing is, although I have some limitations, I'm still around and kickin'. Trendy magazines tend not to want to mention the illness thing; it's not very attractive. MS does sap my energy and slow things down somewhat. I can't walk or dance for as long as I used to, but since I've had my diagnosis, I've been up the Himalayas in Nepal, been scuba diving in the Red Sea and my friends keep telling me to slow down. What do they mean? As with projects, the scene and life, whatever, I'll still be screaming, ‘One more chooooonn!'

You can always book me as DJ Zy:on . . . I'm a lot cheaper than the big guns.

Online: allcrew.co.uk

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