Kershaw - No off switch

NO OFF SWITCH

Andy Kershaw, Without you we wouldnt
know nothin! Rock on.
Joe Strummer (2001)

An Autobiography

ANDY KERSHAW

Hear more from Andy Kershaw, including archived radio shows, at

www.andykershaw.co.uk

Publishing details

NO OFF SWITCH: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY 2011 by Andy Kershaw.

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher except for the quotation of brief passages in reviews.

Typeset in Sun Light and Sabon Roman to a design by Henry Iles.

First published in 2011 by

Serpents Tail, 3A Exmouth House
Pine Street, Exmouth Market
London EC1R OJH

LYRICS

The author is grateful to the copyright holders for permission to reprint the following lyrics: Something In The Air by John Keen 1969 Fabulous Music Ltd. International Copyright Secured. All Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.

Dixie Fried by Carl Lee Perkins and Howard Griffin 1956 Hi-Lo Music, Inc. Renewed 1984 Carl Perkins Music, Inc. All Rights Administered by Wren Music Co., A Division of MPL Music Publishing, Inc. and Hi-Lo Music, Inc. All Rights Reserved. Used By Permission.

School Days by Loudon Wainwright III 1970 (Renewed) Frank Music Corp. All Rights Reserved. Used By Permission.

The Free Electric Band by Albert Hammond/Mike Hazlewood 1973 Imagem Music. All Rights Reserved. Used By Permission.

Lawyers, Guns & Money by Warren Zevon 1978 Zevon Music (BMI). All Rights Administered by BMG Chrysalis. International Copyright Secured. All Rights Reserved. Reprinted with Permission of Hal Leonard Corporation

PHOTOS

All images are copyright of the author, except as noted in the captions. While every effort has been made to contact copyright-holders of illustrations, the author and publishers would be grateful for information about any illustrations where they have been unable to trace them, and would be glad to make amendments in further editions..

Printed in the UK by CPI Bookmarque, Croydon CR0 4TD, on Forest Stewardship Council (mixed sources) certified paper. 416pp

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. ISBN 9781846687440

For Sonny and Dolly

THANKS

THANKS TO Geoff Adams-Spink, Jenny & Clive Alford, Phil Almond, Ian Anderson, Marta Anicic, Florence Arpin, Lucy Ash, Pete Ayrton, Jonny Barnes, Vic & Pam Bates, Bernard Bateson, Glen Baxter, George Beale, Claire Beaumont, Mark Begovich, Ian Birrell, James Birtwistle, John Bisbrowne, Nigel Blackwell, Nick Bonner, John Bowes, Vicky Bowman, Billy Bragg, Vanessa Bridge, Diana Broccardo, Stephen Brough, Simon & Kate Broughton, Jane Buchanan, Bohdan Buciak, John Bull, Sheena Bullen, Nigel Bunyan, Cyril Burgess, Ian Burrell, Matthew Burton, Katherine Butler, Anglin & Jen Buttimore, Rachel Calder, Martin Carthy, Greg Chamberlain, Iain Chambers, Mick Chatterton, Noel & Pam Clegg, Frank Coates, Joanna Coop, John Cooper, Paul Crockford, Trevor Dann, Geoff Davies, Robin Denselow, Cathy Drysdale, Peter Dyer, Robin Easterbrook, Mark & Clare Ellen, Mark Ellingham, Issy Emeney, Colin Fenton, Andy Fingret, Mike Fishwick, Anna-Marie Fitzgerald, Luce Garland, Jonathan Garratt, Jim & Mirelle Grahame, Tony Grant, Louise Greenwood, Peter Greste, Sid Griffin, Chris Heath, Steve Henderson, Chris Holmes, Simon Howard, Henry Iles, Jonathan Irving, Susan Jeffries, Anna Jenkins, Peter Jenner, Stephen Kearney, Alan & Mike Kelly, Martin Kelner, Nigel & Nicky Kermode, Eileen Kershaw, Elizabeth Kershaw, Ruth Killick, Elizabeth Kinder, Kathleen & Mick Kirkbright, David Lace, Ann Leslie, Togger Lord, EV Lowi, Chris Lycett, Lindsay Lyall, Mark Makin, Dave & Chris Manton, Marianne McCourt, Dave & Lizzie McLean, Natalie Merchant, Sue Moore, Richard Morse, Tessa, Harry & Emma Munt, Niamh Murray, Helen Nightingale, Neil OBrien, Jackie OHalloran, Lembit Opik, Helena Palmer, James Parkin, Terry Pedersen, Terry Phillips, Jim Redman, Gillian Reynolds, Paul Rider, Simon Shelmerdine, Paul & Gill Sherratt, Roger Short, Cheryl Smith, Jon Snow, John & Mary Stanley, Ralph Steadman, Nidhi Tandon, Sheila & Rodney Taylor, Al & Josie Thompson, Steve Tilston, Andy Todd, Judy Totton, Pete Townshend, Catherine Turner, Terry Waite, Amanda Walker, Helen Walters, Ann Waters, Marvin Ware, Norma Waterson, Paul Webster, Tony Weekes, Linda Weekes-Holt, Malcolm Wheeler, Francis Wheen, Caroline Wilding, Peter Wood, Dave Woodhead, Roger Wright, Andrew Zweck.

VERY SPECIAL THANKS to Rachael Clegg, Shaz Nicol, Barbara Shimmin, Bob & Jane Taylor.

AND WITHOUT WHOM Debbie, Colin & Alice Law, Audrey & Tony Mansell, Chris Simpson.

FAR BELOW ME was a bubbling multi-coloured broth of humanity all toothpaste smiles, sunglasses, bare arms and bouncing bosoms. The crackle and murmur of anticipation was borne upwards on the warm morning air to my perch, high above the stadium. Tucked under the roof, I was leaning over a steel gantry, gawping at the immensity of the occasion but oddly divorced from the happiness, companionship and excitement of those down on the Wembley pitch.

Just seconds from presenting the biggest television event since man first landed on the moon, I felt, in the company of thousands in the stadium and millions whod be watching around the world, quite alone.

I wished I could be down there, among friends for a carefree day as a participant in history. But it was too late to back out now. A BBC production assistant, with clip-board and stopwatch, was calling me from the football commentary box, our studio, along the walkway. There was nothing I could do but go for it.

It was 13 July 1985. This was Live Aid. I was 25 years old. Eighteen months earlier, I had been unemployed, in Leeds, without any real prospects or ideas of what I would do in life. Certainly, Id never had any plans or ambitions to work in television. It was less than a year since my first television broadcast, less than two years since Billy Bragg and I had hit the road as rock & roll guerrillas. And just one week before this day of Live Aid, Id presented for the first time my own programme on BBC Radio 1.

The technicians wired me for sound. I picked my way over the cables, between the cameras, settled on the presenters sofa and looked into the black mirror of the camera lens. How many people are supposed to be watching this? I asked one of the producers.

Some say four or five hundred million. Others reckon it could be more than a billion, he replied.

Not for the first or the last time in my life did a familiar question flash through my mind: What the fuck is this?

The car had gone through a low garden wall. It was a huge, voluptuous black saloon, its paintwork gleaming in the sunshine and its bumpers generous and glamorous even in their state of contortion. Masonry and windscreen glass had been flung across a precious lawn and the flowerbeds were ploughed and violated by deep wheel gouges. The cars unfortunate occupants had already been taken away.

It was, apart from birdsong, completely silent. Other bystanders just stared.

The house was Miss Whiteleys. I was on my way home from another happy day at Howard Street Nursery where the lovely Miss Whiteley was our headmistress.

Whoever was taking me home urged me to hurry along. But I didnt want to leave until Id absorbed every shocking, incongruous detail.