whole class system evaporating; in a funny way, it made us write our own constitution.” The Prime Minister’s policies—collectively known as Thatcherism—reduced support from the State whilst simultaneously weakening the power of trade unions, predominantly affecting the working classes and leading to mass unemployment. At the same time, her belief in free markets gave rise to underground enterprise, something Jazzie believes enabled him to run several market stalls and his own shop, the Soul II Soul basement store on Camden High Street. Thatcherism also spurred Black market capitalism and the entrepreneurial spirit of illegal warehouse parties, bootlegging, and pirate radio. “Anything that happened, we were the instigators and the creators, and no one had ever done anything like that before,” says Jazzie. “We started to live by our own mantra, and you know what? We had a fucking wonderful time doing it.” The Soul II Soul collective began setting up private gigs in function rooms, as it was difficult for large groups of Black men to get past the bouncers at a licensed nightclub, even on a soul night. “We ended up using all the function rooms, but they were getting smaller,” Jazzie told the Red Bull Music Academy. “Then some guy comes along and says, ‘I’m an estate agent, I know what you need.’ He was a really cool Jewish guy, and he’s got all these keys, so we went round all these places, massive warehouses. ‘Oh my God, you could have a football game in here...’ Anyway, we found this warehouse in Curtain Road and he just gave us the key. No shit. Inside there was no electricity, but that was no problem ’cause our bloke was a sparks [electrician], got on the nearest lamppost, got one of them big fuses, connected it up, ran the wires back in and— bosh —we were off and running. But we needed someone to man it, because the Old Bill [police] or neighbors coming out seeing a bunch of Black guys, you know, that won’t last. So this fucking Jewish guy came in a fucking razor-sharp whistle [suit], didn’t he? He was hilarious, tie on, nice brogues, standing at the fucking gate. That was how the whole thing for Soul II Soul began.” A mixture of law enforcement shutting down illegal warehouse parties and scrapes with the London underworld forced the sound system back on the hunt for a legitimate venue, but little did they realize that the place they eventually selected for their next venture would one day become synonymous with the name Soul II Soul throughout the globe. Less than a decade after the Queen’s Silver Jubilee, on a bitterly cold night in London, nascent musician Simon Law stood in a long queue outside of the Africa Centre, an unprepossessing Georgian terraced building in the upscale Covent Garden area of London’s West End. The arts center turned nightclub was the place that Jazzie B—in his North London patter—nostalgically
referred to as “the center of the world” on the Club Classics Vol. One finale, “Jazzie’s Groove.” The spot became the home to a weekly Sunday-night residency (called “Centre of the World”) by the Soul II Soul sound system. Like most Sunday nights at the 400-plus capacity venue, it had reached the point where the doormen were only letting in punters once others had left. Despite a large mane of red hair (like a Mick Hucknall but without the perm) and clutching what appeared to be the comforting warmth of a pizza box, Law was freezing. “Every week, it was rammed within the Africa Centre, but outside there was at least as many people waiting to get in as well,” says Law, on a Skype video call from his Canadian abode. His long hair having now withdrawn to a short crop, attached to a white and strawberry blond beard. “I used to go around loads of clubs with a 12-inch record I did with my sister Joanna called “City Heat” [by City Heat], trying not to have to pay to get in! I used to joke with the bouncers, because of the boxes that the records came in, ‘Pizza delivery for the DJ!’ Sometimes it would work.” Law laughs, his Suffolk accent having veered more towards an Anglo-Canadian cadence since emigrating. “The hook-up with Jazzie was the main thing for me,” he adds. “Jazzie played our song and I just thought, ‘Fuck, this [is] amazing—people are dancing to my music at the best club!’ It was always hot and sweaty, but I just loved it there, man, the vibes. It had this magical kind of atmosphere and nothing has ever really matched it. For maybe two to three years, it was the number one club for Black music, because there was all that rare groove stuff going on, which was like an education in music. We were discovering all these extraordinary funk and soul tunes from obscure little labels, and the DJs were all in competition with each other to find the next scoop.” Raw house music from Chicago and Detroit went down well at the Africa Centre, as did hip-hop tracks by Public Enemy and Schoolly D. “There was always reggae too, lots of reggae. It was bursting with energy, just an incredible time,” says Law. “There was something in the air that we all tapped into.” The Soul II Soul ethos was already in full effect, long before Jazzie signed the group to a recording contract. He had the Funki Dred logo (a design created by artist Derek Yates) printed on T-shirts and fashion accessories, and there was a whole backstory that evolved with it. The Funki Dreds came from a planet called Ard. Sent to save the world from Rappattachus-Bacchus who was mashing up all the parties. They, the Funki Dreds—as it is written—were pleasure givers. Says Law: “It was like a comic book thing; the club was all decked out in artwork, and there was a lot of mystique around the mythology. They were like a close-knit family, Jazzie, Q, Aitch, and Daddae; those four were the key people with their Funki Dreds, waistcoats, and Soul II Soul belt buckles. It was a lifestyle, and we all bought into it, man.”
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