Kershaw Rides Again

I first met Andy Kershaw at his flat in north London. As expected, the place was racked high with albums and there was a perpetual gush of ideas and exceptional tunes. Guests arrived, the phone got busy and there was talk of Zimbabwe, Billy Bragg, George Jones and cowpunk. The soul shouter Barrence Whitfield was over from Boston, where Andy had 'discovered' him a while earlier, and I think he was crashing on the couch. Fun was had.

I'd see him fairly often at gigs in town or around Crouch End, particularly a cool little café called Banners, which served roadhouse fare, American style. His motorbike was parked outside and his presence was evident in the playlist (palm wine tunes from Sierra Leone, jigs from Sligo, Kentucky ballads) while the walls were decorated with Kershaw memorabilia. Andy had travelled well and with a proper sense of curiosity. I don't recall him ever talking about his TV presenter role during Live Aid - that was a weird aberration rather than a career step, and he would be far more animated about some Vietnamese field recording.

Andy will be at the Black Box in Belfast this Saturday afternoon, part of the Out To Lunch Festival. I think he'll be reading from his autobiography, No Off Switch. It's the story of an intense life, coloured by a series of difficulties in recent years. My hope is that the book represents the closing of one era, and the reintroduction of Andy to the public domain as an important music fan. We miss his keen ears, his individuality and his adventure.