Todd credits you as his most important supporter, and mentions that show at 4by4 in particular as life-changing. The history of UKG looks very different without these turns of events, and the way your paths intersect. So yes — these thoughts do cross my mind every now and then, which makes me very grateful for how far we have come. What goes through your mind when you watch that back? And how did the electricity in the air feel that night? So when I was able to book him for my own event it was a special moment for me, and also my fanbase who I continuously pushed his music to through my radio shows and live sets.
There were many Todd fans on the dancefloor seeing him for the first time live, and you could see the excitement hearing him play a set in the UK. I definitely shared the same emotions as them on the night. You released him as part of your Nuvolve record label launch in , and always big up his new material as well as the classics. Not every legend has this longevity. What I mean by that is: I love everything about his productions and how they are put together.
I love complexity, and the unique sampling skill, complex drum patterns and key changes within his tracks are just a few reasons why I was and still am a massive fan.
On a personal level, what makes the relationship between you two so durable? Some years ago you were interviewed by DJ Mag alongside Todd. But I will always remember having some great music-related chats and studio sessions at his house in New Jersey, where we collaborated on a track which never saw the light of day. It was a real experience for me seeing him at work in the flesh. You will always have my support. Todd is summoned and cues up a custom dubplate cut for the night.
Around 1, tightly-packed fans surge forward to the sound of — wait, is that The Carpenters? Todd stands, eager but flummoxed, as people begin to cheer and shuffle to the muted intro for 45 seconds or so.
Then the tune kicks in, and the venue goes absolutely doolally. Everything was thankfully captured on camera and is constantly regurgitated by various music platforms on social media. It never fails to smash big numbers, a readymade honeypot of engagement. Romford was crazy. The MC was saying things and the crowd chanting back — as an American, it just sounded like a pep rally.
During his set, this innocence resulted in one amusing misunderstanding. As the crowd demands a rewind, Todd flashes a confused glance back to the MC. Unsure what was being requested, he whiffs at the chance of a thunderous reload, instead merely hitting the stop button and watching the turntable power down. He grimaces at the mention. Work dried up and Todd was forced to move back in with his parents. It was disheartening and emasculating.
I lost hope — in myself, and in God. At his worst, he was seriously considering suicide, seeing repeated visions of driving his car off a bridge while on the way to work. No-one talks about what it takes to generate a second wave of success once the first has gone. Is this it? I make bad art? I was a workaholic, avoiding personal issues in my life by pushing until I burned out. What do you want from me? Todd takes a breath. I was on great money but it was so miserable.
The company was run like a boot camp in terms of strictness, and I would arrive at my desk nearly in tears most days.
I pictured myself in a coffin at the end of my life, and pondered what I would regret more: if I never returned to music, or never had kids and grandkids surrounding me? And I felt music was the thing I cherished most. So at the height of the American recession, I quit my job and started again. Todd puts a great deal of his entrapment at the time down to mismanagement. He was told to keep his emotions buttoned when speaking to the press and suspects he was kept away from connecting with fans on the internet as a power play.
A toxic cat-and-mouse game dragged on for most of the s. It was pure spite. They were shocked that Todd owned none of his master recordings, and urged him to bite the bullet and buy back his catalogue as a point of priority. I was too weak and scared to leave this situation. I was very loyal, a team player. And the thing that really sucked is that, up until this point, I never had a team rooting for me. Bookings returned as the s dawned, relished by Todd with typically wholesome fervour.
The least I could do was say thanks for paying my bills. Without that miserable return to Jersey, I never would have had the confidence to move to Los Angeles. He had laboured under the assumption that an ascetic lifestyle was the appropriate one, bound in fear of what might happen if he began expanding his horizons. Suddenly, there was no need for anguish anymore.
He learned to enjoy a good time. This is what fun feels like! I shook loose some of the more devout thinking I had — that making money was bad, or being expressive when DJing was unbecoming. My connection to God is stronger for it. The trauma receded. I really began existing as myself for the first time. I need to get serious about this.
I've been a huge fan since I was a teenager, fascinated by the contrast between the hedonism of the UK garage and house scene and the purity of Todd's faith. I remember watching him holding up a neon crucifix while playing to crowds of gurning, sweaty, tightly packed bodies myself included. When I started working in film I always knew that I wanted him to be one of my subjects, I just had to wait for a realistic time to pull the trigger. Todd has this compellingly unusual status in electronic music: his influence is everywhere, he draws gigs worldwide, and yet remains quite underrated.
Why do you think he sort of floats in purgatory between stardom and cultdom? There are a multitude of reasons, many of them rooted in the personal issues he was dealing with behind closed doors. Todd put on a brave face for a long time, but I do think this middle ground has made his fans all the more loyal.
When I've interviewed people at his shows, they're sometimes on the verge of tears when they speak about how passionately they adore him. I was insecure, stage-fright-based, vulnerable. When Daft Punk contacted him, asking if he wanted to come to their epochal live performance at Coachella, he was too miserable to return their call. There was no money coming in; I had a house for a little while and I ended up selling that.
It was like I was going backwards. I was getting bad advice from counselling — so many negative things. I did two years doing customer service at a phone company, Verizon, answering calls, pretty much in tears every day.
A platinum disc for the album is visible on the wall behind him alongside a crucifix. But everything else appears to be going extremely well.
A new deal with Defected Records has resulted not just in a best-of collection, but also in his classic productions appearing on streaming services for the first time. A quarter of a century on, Saved My Life and his remixes of Moloko, St Germain and Sound of One still sound remarkably fresh, perhaps because UK garage has returned to the pop spotlight — you can hear its DNA everywhere from AJ Tracey to Disclosure — but more likely because Edwards hit on a genuinely unique sound in the early 90s, and uniqueness tends not to date.
He seems in high spirits, and not without good reason. Alexis Petridis. An unlikely figure for hero-worship
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