I Was There – the ride of my life with Maxi Jazz
Our man Ben ‘wobbly legs’ Willmott recalls catching a hair-raising lift with the late Faithless legend
Interviewing Sister Bliss earlier this month, memories came flooding back of my first and only previous contact with Faithless, if my rather shaky memory is correct, around the time the Outrospective album was released in 2001. The band were not the festival headlining, playlist storming prospect they later turned out to be – their debut album Reverence achieved a respectable but by no means spectacular entry at no26 on the album chart – but they were clearly going places, mainly thanks to a growing rep as an amazing live act. That said, their breakthrough show at V Festival, was still a while off.
At the time, however, Rollo of the band was definitely playing second fiddle to his sister, Dido, who had just been propelled to serious mainstream success by Eminem. Slim Shady, then at probably the absolute height of his career, had sampled big chunks of her song ‘Thank You’ for his single ‘Stan’, leading to her own debut No Angel album becoming a massive best seller.
Although Dido, who guested on one album track, wasn’t present there was still a very family-like atmosphere as the band assembled in the loft-like studio next to Highbury & Islington tube station in North London. They were friendly, professional and calm as they sipped their tea, tight knit as you’d expect from an outfit who’d already put in quite a few hours on the road together. Calmest of all was Maxi Jazz, only occasionally interjecting with a trademark deep, resonant speaking voice, an almost kindly paternalistic presence given his extensive experience in the music industry even before Faithless.
As proceedings drew to a close, Maxi asked me wherabouts I was headed and as we discovered I was returning home to Oval and he was driving to Brixton, he kindly offered to give me a lift.
At this point it’s fair to say that all I really knew about Maxi beyond his musical pedigree was that he was a Buddhist, and having had his gentle demeanour confirmed in the interview, I was prepared for a rather pedestrian amble downhill to Old Street roundbout and beyond. His reputation as what is now commonly known as a ‘petrolhead’ was news to me, as I unwittingly got into a low slung, bright yellow sports car and we took off for South London.
Took off being the operative word. A new side to Maxi was immediately revealed, as pedal was put to metal and we sped off loudly and very, very quickly, sneaking in and out of lanes, dodging traffic – it being mid-afternoon the roads were clear, but only by pre-congestion charge London standards.
As we hurtled towards the river he wanted to know how life as a music journalist was treating me, and as I’d probably grumbled about a general lack of money and appreciation, he shared a piece of advice that has always stayed with me. Feeling undervalued and skint himself many years before, he was advised by a Rastafarian friend of senior years to immediately double his fees and sit back and watch what happened. He did so, and for two or three months got no work. But after that the bookings at the new price started trickling, then rolling in.
I eventually escaped the car at a red light close to the start of Brixton Road, next to Kennington Park, with those wise words ringing in my ears. As he quickly sped off and out of view, I realised my legs were wobbling like jelly. I was in shock but, only partly because I’d survived in one piece, I felt just about as good as I ever did. RIP Maxi Jazz, I hope there’s enough space up there in heaven for a really decent run.
Ben Willmott