Pete Tong

Essential selector

Interviewed by Bill and Frank in London, May 13, 1999

Pete Tong is the business – literally. Without him large parts of the industry of dance music would cease to function. Or at the very least need to find themselves another set of wheels. When Britain was dancing itself doolally with pills and thrills, Tong was already stationed in a comfy record company office, closing the deals that fuelled acid house, signing bands and licensing tracks including many of the big tunes of Chicago. He was also instrumental in developing the market for DJ-mixed compilations, one of the few sectors of the music industry that hasn’t yet been given up for dead.

Millions know Tongy as the unflappable voice of Radio 1’s Essential Selection. Since 1991 he’s provided the Friday night pre-club soundtrack as a nation dolls itself up and has a few snifters of vodka. You’ll hear him playing future anthems first and giving a giant boost to the fortunes of any single lucky enough to make the playlist.

The interview takes place in his office where he’s posted behind a sizeable desk. Dance music has certainly been good to him. Worth a reported £20 million, he picks up about 20 grand a gig, he’s married to a Brazilian model and confesses to ‘one crippling vice – private jets’. And it’s a select group indeed who’ve become an enduring piece of rhyming slang. It may have occasionally gone a bit Pete for some of us, but certainly not Mr Tong.

When you were broadcasting on pirate radio, did you feel like an outlaw?

Yeah, you did, you were conscious of that. When I started doing pirates it didn’t seem to be an illegal thing to do. It was sort of like a hobby and the fact that you were so bothered about doing it and you would bother to go to the great lengths you’d have to go to set it up to do it, it seemed like, ‘What do you mean it’s illegal?’ Obviously it was illegal. I was lucky, I was never there when a raid happened. I was on LWR; I was on Invicta when it was a pirate. LWR was more, sort of, cloak-and-dagger: down back alleyways, knocking on doors and giving passwords sort of thing. When we worked at Invicta, you’d go into a nice little house near Crystal Palace. It was all very luxurious actually! It was like playing records in your bedroom with the sun coming in.

It was almost like a public service rather than a pirate?

Yeah. I think it got a little bit more renegade in the ’90s, especially with the inner city stations. Pirates, when I started, it was just, ‘There’s not enough Robbie Vincent on the radio so let’s give them some more.’ Whereas pirates these days it’s much more, there’s not enough drum and bass, there’s not enough UK garage; it’s much more focused on musical genres.

Is that always going to be their function, filling gaps?

I think so yeah.

Is that because national radio is tightly controlled?

I don’t think it’s as tightly controlled as it used to be. I don’t think running a legal dance station is as easy as people think. I think that’s the state of mind in the late ’90s: being given a license is one thing, but making a business out of it is another. The principal reason why Kiss has gone all over the place in terms of musical style is because they’ve got quite a heavy investment and heavy overheads and they’ve got to deliver a certain amount of listeners to satisfy their advertisers. If they want to play in the Premier League, they’ve gotta get themselves Premier League capacities. Whereas if they were a niche broadcaster like Choice, they could size down their operation.

The pirate is a romantic ideal, a fascinating thing. But you’re catering for a niche. There’s no pressure. No-one’s getting paid. Everyone’s groovy. But as soon as it comes to business and making it work and being legitimate, you’ve got to make money to pay for it all. It’s not quite the Alice In Wonderland-type scenario you think it’s gonna be. So I’ve got a lot of sympathy for Kiss, other than the fact they went off in the wrong direction a little bit at the start. It’s no real surprise what’s happened to it in the last four or five years. That’s what happens to a lot of those American stations: you turn the dial and get every flavour you want, but go back in six months time and they’ll all be in a different place.

Is Radio 1 a happy medium in that it doesn’t have to deliver in the way a commercial station does?

I think so, yeah. Their mission statement is to champion new music, not to get the biggest audience. Every decision that runs through that building is based around that core set of values and that doesn’t involve getting an audience.

How often do you compromise?

I don’t ever compromise. I get left alone completely. They expect me to do alright.

Do you get left alone because they haven’t got a clue what it is you do, or…

When I first started they were just happy to put me in a room and let me get on with it. It was the Parfitt/Bannister era where they took a lot more interest in what I do. I say I get complete freedom in what I do, the only check they have is that I don’t fill up the show with my own records!

Do you think it’s a measure of Kiss’s success that Radio 1 has absorbed a number of DJs from there, or is it a relative measure of success of dance music?

I think it’s a measure of the fact that it became the obvious place to learn your craft.

When did you first come across house?

Someone asked me, ‘Was it a holy grail when you discovered it?’ And I actually said no, though it was a little bit. The reason I said no was because we didn’t go out and discover it. The reality in the late ’80s was you were obviously always looking for new music, but your field of vision was totally dictated by what City Sounds or All Ears Records got in. And obviously they imported as much as they could and sold what they did. But that was the reality and those records just started coming in.

Did it take a long time for them to come over?

No not really. It was at the height of the Def Jam mania, stuff like ‘My Adidas’ by Run DMC, which I signed. If you’d gone to Doo At The Zoo with me and Nicky Holloway playing with Gilles [Peterson] and Bob Masters, you would have heard a mixture of what Gordon Mac calls boogie. Then you’d get ‘Rock The Bells’ by LL Cool J, Beastie Boys and some Sleeping Bag records. The first house record I got was Sleezy D. But the first one where it was a movement in my head was ‘Music Is The Key’ by JM Silk. Because soon after there was another JM Silk record and that was an indication of something. Then suddenly we were hungry, give us more, give us more because DJs… you get something like that and it’s hard to put something before it and after. So you want more.

It went on from there. It was a change. That’s what’s kept me going for so long – because you’re always looking for the next thing. A fashion junkie in a sense. A music junkie of new trends. So you’re playing rap and then six months later everyone is playing rap. Right, what’s next? I can’t just can’t keep doing this when it’s in the high street Mecca clubs.

To be fair, and I think it’s been quite well documented before, in London we flirted with it a bit. What I was just talking about was 1986 and ’87. And at that time I did ‘Masterplan’ by Diana Brown. We were a bit schizophrenic. And even when there was the infamous Ibiza trip and that threw it a little bit more and we were playing everything from INXS to new beat. Whereas Pickering and Park at the Haçienda were looking down at us, going, ‘You fucking southern soul tossers!’ To be fair, they were much more on it. The day a house record came in, they chucked all the old ones out.

Was that their taste or the crowd’s?

I think that was Mike. You’d have to credit Mike and Graeme. I tell you what it was, I think it was the club. Streamlined, smooth-lines, stark-look. It fitted the club. You hear a rap record in the Haçienda it always seems like it’s the wrong room. Whereas house music seemed much more like the right thing to play in it. When you think about T Coy and those early records. A bit of German, a bit of Kraftwerk. They just went with it. They were purist. Even at the Astoria we played some weird records. That wasn’t pure house. We were playing new beat.

How long was it before they realised they had a substantial export market?

Straight away. Rocky Jones and Larry Sherman were always over here. Particularly Rocky.

When was the first compilation?

about 1986 or ’87.

Wasn’t there a tour, too?

The biggest one was when we brought over Jamie Principle. That was ’87.

“  Pickering and Park at the Haçienda were going, ‘You fucking southern soul tossers!’ They were much more on it. The day a house record came in, they chucked all the old ones out. ”

Did you think when house started coming over that it would be as big as it has been?

I definitely acknowledged it was a seminal moment. I don’t think I was the only one. It was dance music’s punk rock. It was like Before and After. And the weird thing is I suppose punk had a fundamental influence on rock’n’roll. But it’s not as obviously audible in the records today, whereas house music is. House music is everywhere. Still. America’s got on it and drifted back off. On a pop level.

Why do you think straight America’s never really got into it?

Because it tended not to be artist based. It tended to be producer/writer based.

Do you think that’s because they’re so old school rock’n’roll that they couldn’t get their head around it?

No, I think that’s true of here; it’s just our market allowed it to happen more quickly. The way you have hits in America is fundamentally different to the way you have hits here. It’s just so much bigger. Just look at the English chart: football songs, novelty songs. The disposability of dance music was perfect for it, I suppose. Whereas with America, the notion of singles was practically dead by the ’90s. Generally white people in America don’t buy singles. Black people do. But they’re coming back round to it.

What was the indicator that made you realise that dance music was the new pop?

I suppose when I saw 5,000 people queuing outside the Astoria every Saturday night for three years. And Tribal Gathering. It’s just what people wanted. Even Glastonbury years and years ago, walking up what they call the motorway, it was always house and techno there. It’s been in the culture so long it just has to be represented in one way or another.

Do you think it’s affected the way you market records, singles in particular?

It has done in the past I think. We’re probably over the phase now, in the business, where I think in the mid-’90s, every record company went spastic in the same way the American market went spastic for disco. It doesn’t matter who you are, you’re going to have a David Morales remix.

There was an awful lot of money thrown at the wall. That’s where you got your multiple packs of records. I’ve moved house a couple of times lately, and the biggest pain in the arse is the record collection legacy. You can thin out. How many of those remixes by artists that are not of the culture do you really need to keep? There’s very few. You can literally lose all of them! Never miss them. It’s quite sad isn’t it, because they all cost a fucking fortune. And how relevant was it? That is when it went mad.

What about compilations. Is that the new way of selling singles?

It’s a way of maximising the sales of a record that was probably never destined in its own right to do more than 5-10,000. There’s an awful lot of those and when you put those together with 15 other tracks they become a lot more interesting.

“  People bought into trusting the Ministry of Sound logo or trusting Boy George, or trusting me or trusting Sasha. I think that’s a massive revolution in the last five years. ”

Because there’s one thing that the DJ does is filter information. So people buy into the DJ rather than the records now.

People bought into trusting the Ministry of Sound logo or trusting Boy George, or trusting me or trusting Sasha. I think that’s a massive revolution in the last five years really.

Are you aware of that in the way you market things?

Very much so. I was asked to do mix albums for Cream and then I was involved with the Ministry for a long time. And I started doing my own ones off the back of the show and it just got to a point where I thought there were too many of them and I can’t be on everybody’s so I just decided I couldn’t really do a DJ compilation for the Ministry and not do it for myself, so that’s why there’s the Essential Selection series. And I’m not on the Ministry any more. But definitely for us, it’s big business. There’s no question about it. I think they can perform two functions. I still really get off on doing the sort of artistic ones, like David Holmes. The whole cost base is lower and you can do really well selling 30- 40- 50,000. They become catalogue items.

Whereas I’m operating in the other end of the market where you go for hundreds of thousands and the sales are gigantic and happen in a short space of time and I’m not really expecting them to be dug up five years later. I just don’t think they will be. Whereas Holmes’ album and hopefully Kevorkian’s, those sorts of records, they’re different. It is a business as much as it is a pleasure, and art, and everything else. Getting back to your original point, packaging up the music, selling it in an attractive fashion. The DJ has given the business a massive up-side, akin to what it’s like having an album when you’re a ‘proper’ artist with a hit single.

Is that one of the reasons the DJ has become such a superstar?

Yeah, definitely. It’s a really nice, succinct way of charting their ability to entertain, I think. Obviously, it came out of the tape revolution in the early ’90s, the bootleg tapes. The hottest thing was a Sasha tape from a club in Coventry, or Renaissance. And that’s what people wanted. It still goes on, but nothing like it did. Obviously, you can just walk in a store now. They needed to be legitimised, because it was getting silly, when the DJ wasn’t getting paid, the music wasn’t getting paid.

It was DMC who did it first wasn’t it?

Yeah, and Renaissance, but then they were one of the biggest tapes sources! Do us a tape. That’s what people want. It’ll be interesting to see the evolution of online music. That’s all very well, and everyone’s getting worried about it, but actually what it’s gonna do it’s gonna splat on the internet; so to suddenly just give Joe Bloggs everything is just so overwhelming. I think what the future will be is they go to Oakey’s site or Sasha’s site and they’ll say select us some music. That’s sort of what it’s gonna be like in the future: we’ll trust those people to give us the tape.

Why hasn’t dance music broken in America like it did here?

I think the problem with America is they can’t deal with anything that doesn’t last that long. The fact that there’s no album. I kind of understand why it got in a bit of mess in America. Donna Summer was alright. They got that.

The way the DJ is so exalted now, are they trying to turn the DJ into a rock star?

Yeah, I suppose so yeah. I don’t think it’s been quite thought through like that. I suppose yeah, that’s a fair analogy. I mean, Oakey’s over there touring constantly, almost at the expense of what he does here. That’s his life. That’s something I can’t do because I’ve got a record company. But Carl [Cox] is over there. Sasha and Digweed. Paul’s doing it the most.

Yeah, he seems like he’s on a mission.

Yeah, it’s the same. It’s just like taking the thing to the masses. Because there’s so much uncharted territory over there. From what he tells me he’s being welcomed with open arms everywhere. He’s getting to places where no-one’s been to. More so than here, that will be the way America markets the mix albums. It’ll be like the Grateful Dead. You know, see Oakey and buy the CD on your way out.

What do you think makes a good DJ or a bad one?

I think entertainment is a massive factor. I think now, if you’re starting out you’re pretty resigned to the fact that you’ve got to come out with a unique sound. Adam Freeland comes along, makes his mark very quickly and stays very focused. What does Adam Freeland sound like? Breakbeats. Then he’s got to take it to the next level, the same way that Sasha can play to 10,000 people at Creamfields last year and rock this place with one record. Adam can’t quite do that yet. First its positioning. That’s what seems to be the term of reference. When a new DJ comes along, it’s, ‘What does he sound like? What’s he doing that’s different?’

I come from a slightly privileged position in that it wasn’t like that when I started. It was more about playing music that no-one else played. It was more like a mission. That’s what the experience felt like. It wasn’t that hard to become a DJ. It wasn’t that hard to become well known.

Did it feel more subversive?

Much more in the old days. You don’t get that nowadays. In those days it was very much black and white. You were either playing pop music or you were playing jazz-funk. And it was a little bit more covert. You felt like you were in a secret society. Blues & Soul was the Mixmag of the day and you couldn’t buy it anywhere. You had to subscribe to it. Get it in a brown paper bag!

What is the buzz, playing?

It’s more that frustrated rock star. That’s what it’s all about still. People go up to me: is it dying; is it building; is it this; is it that? You just go out to clubs and it’s just not really over. Do DJs get paid too much money? Well not really because if they did you wouldn’t book them back would you?

Do you think it’s still a central part of what you do?

Definitely. I don’t know what I’d do on the radio if I didn’t play in clubs. I’d feel like a bit of a fraud. I think I’ve developed a skill to communicate with people and build a radio show, and ebb and flow a radio show. At the same time I don’t know why I’d be there if I wasn’t out in clubland.

Is it the same feeling of community on the radio show?

I’ve developed the show to a point where I’m trying to be this umbrella of involvement, bringing in everybody. I’ve adopted more of an anchoring role because I think you have to keep inventing yourself. I’m there because I don’t feel a fraud, because I’m playing in clubs, but by the same token I’m not suggesting that Bugged Out are doing something good so let’s get them on, let’s get everybody on and represent. Quite similar to what Westwood does in a way. That’s what keeps that show interesting. The show, there’s no question, it’s the start of the weekend, it’s a Friday night thing. That’s my GOOD IDEA.

“  One of the problems of being Pete Tong is that you have that huge responsibility to peak the night. I never forgot that. They want to go doolally to their favourite records. ”

As music has evolved the DJ has been at the forefront. Why do you think that is?

Because most of us are anoraky, trainspottery vinyl junkies craving for the next thing. I parted company with my ancestors because a lot of them didn’t want to change. I came into the Chris Hill thing [the so-called Soul Mafia] as a junior fan and left it because they wouldn’t play rap music. It seemed mad to me. They were quite happy to keep regurgitating old soul records. They were a massive influence on me, but… When rap came along, me and Jeff Young we became the embarrassment on the bill at those weekenders. Chris was like, ‘Oh fucking hell, here they are with that old racket.’ And when house music came along that was the last straw.

House music came along and still to this day hasn’t really got a fashion. It’s got a state of mind. House music is more a club cultural experience in a different way to hip hop. I know what a DJ looks like because they’ve usually got a baseball cap on.

So what’s next?

I never like to say what’s next. I don’t think anyone really knows, because we don’t decide; that’s the fun bit actually. We tend to just be there when it starts to move. I can’t put my finger on it, but I know sometimes when I’m coming back from a gig. And this happens every couple of years. There comes a point when you’ve done your job, people have gone spastic, the club promoter comes up to you at the end of the night and wants you back. You get back in the car and think it didn’t rock me, it didn’t do me, it didn’t get me going. I didn’t get an orgasm out of it. And that’s because it was too easy. When you do a gig you know what will work, so you always try and go off that a little bit. That sort of feels like the time we’re in right now.

One of the problems of being Pete Tong or Judge Jules or whoever is that you have that huge responsibility to peak the night. I never forgot that. You are there to entertain. Education is something we like doing. That’s not actually the biggest thing on the night, when people are queuing to get in and paying their money. They want to go doolally to their favourite records.

I’ve been quite good, throughout my career, at just tripping over that line a little bit. There’s a lot of purist house around now that’s really good again. Now is that us being boring and suddenly becoming Chris Hills about it and not wanting to change? Maybe a 17 year old might say that. I’m very conscious of that. There’s always been something about techno that’s never been overground. There’s something about what Sasha’s doing. And what Carl’s doing. And what they like at Bugged Out. What they do at the End. Also what Bangalter does. He plays disco but he plays it like techno.

I almost feel like I’ve got a puzzle in front of me. Like an algebra thing. There’s something in there and I just keep looking at it and keep going back to it, thinking I’ll figure it out soon. That’s what I wanna do. I go and watch Sasha and there’ll be maybe an hour where it’s not that good, then suddenly there’ll be 10 minutes of brilliance and he’s definitely pushing the boat out again.

The goal posts are being moved. What sounded a little odd nine months ago, is the norm now. Norman Cook, funnily enough, he’s also broken a whole set of rules. 750,000 albums they’ve done in America. I’ve been dealing with this business all my working life and there’s a set of rules of what you’re meant to do to sell records in America. You’re meant to go over and kiss butt, you’re meant to go to all the States, you’re meant to do this. The guy’s been there three times. He’s never travelled to more than one state at a time. He’s never met anybody apart from the first layer of staff at Astralwerks. He’s just broken every rule.

How will the internet change the way we consume music?

There was a massive evolution from vinyl to CD, in a sense that you could buy something more expensive and you got something smaller! People getting used to things is not what life’s about. Maybe experiences is what life’s about. Less things the better. I’ve got various sets of friends and you go round to some of them and every single orifice of the house is stuffed with books and records. And you go to other people’s houses and there’s nothing in them! It’s all going to be stuffed on a hard disk somewhere. I suppose what I’ve got to watch as a business is how people interact with music and what becomes their life.

The internet will be more like cable radio on demand…

Yeah, which gives a great outlet for dance music and DJs, because I do think given infinite choice, you become totally confused. I’ve interacted recently. My dog-walker wanted a spoken word record by Richard Harris. I just hit the search engine and a place in California had it in. I put my credit card in and it was in Wimbledon in two days. Unbelievable.

© DJhistory.com

PETE TONG’S TOP 10 A&R SIGNINGS

RUN DMC – Walk This Way

JOYCE SIMS – Come Into My Life

FARLEY ‘JACKMASTER’ FUNK FT. DARRYL PANDY – Love Can’t Turn Around

STEVE ‘SILK’ HURLEY – Jack Your Body

LIL LOUIS – French Kiss

BRAND NEW HEAVIES – Back To Love

ORBITAL – Chime

GOLDIE – Inner City Life

SALT ’N’ PEPA – Push It

FRANKIE KNUCKLES – Tears

Compiled by Pete Tong

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VARIOUS – Essential Selection (Trust The DJ) (DJ-mix)

VARIOUS – Platinum On Black: The Final Chapter (DJ mix)

VARIOUS – FFRR Classics 1988-1998