As a child, Susan Cole rampaged
around the garden with teenager Maxi Jazz. Now a top selling dance music icon,
the Faithless front man speaks to her about his support for HIV charities
You
know Maxi Jazz? Oh my god, I can’t explain what his music does for me,”
squeals Darren, PN’s advertising manager, when I mention I’m off
to interview the lead singer of Faithless.
I am bemused by Darren’s orgasmic gushings. Yes, I suppose there’s
Maxi Jazz, pop star, but there’s also Max, eldest son of my mum’s
best friend, someone I’ve known all my life.
Geeky
I used to love going to Max’s house as a kid. Not because there was
a multi million record selling artist-to-be growing up there, but because
of his mum, my Aunty Yvette. Warm, artistic and wise, she opened the door
with freshly baked biscuits and allowed me to rampage around the garden. I
had little interest in her somewhat geeky son, held up by my mother as the
paragon of academic excellence, having secured a coveted place in the local
grammar school.
“He was always a very intelligent and articulate boy,” my mum
reminisces.
“Always wanting to talk about things like space travel.”
This didn’t stop Max from driving his parents to distraction with his
manic drumming. I didn’t realise then that the jarring noises coming
from his teenage bedroom, were the beginning of a startlingly successful musical
career.
Ubiquitous
My mother forces me to follow Max’s career by calling me up with delirious
excitement every time she sees him on TV. It’s become somewhat wearisome
because it’s difficult to flick through music channels without stumbling
across one of his band’s hypnotic anthems.
But last year I was surprised to see him mentioned in PN as singing on the
HIV awareness music initiative Dance4Life. Then he cropped up again deejaying
at a World Aids Day charity event.
It’s odd when you can get hold of a super-cool popstar’s number
from your mother, but that’s what I did. Two weeks later I’m knocking
at his door in West Norwood.
Again and again, as it happens, because of the loud music bursting from his
house. But soon the music is turned off and he opens the door smiling brightly.
It’s been at least 15 years since I last saw him properly, but it feels
like it always did. There’s nothing super-starry about him. Yes, there
are electric guitars in his sitting room, but that’s the extent of his
popstarry-ness.
Supporting HIV positive families
I’d seen Max the week before on the decks at a fundraising club night
for Positive Parenting and Children, on World Aids Day. The charity works
with children and families living with HIV in the Brixton area.
“He’s not there,” complained a friend I was with, scanning
the room for a star. But there he was, mingling unassumingly in the background.
It was hardly the glamorous venue associated with a mega band like Faithless.
Why did he do it?
“I was asked to. I have a lot of friends involved in charitable activities.
They realise my celebrity can be useful in raising awareness, such as this
HIV fundraising event for kids and their families.”
He is startled when I tell him south London has one of the highest percentage
rates of HIV in the country based on the size of the population.
Black men and sex
We discuss why black men in London seem less willing to have safe sex and
the potential impact of institutional racism.
“It’s just an idea I’m formulating on the spot,” he
begins, “but some black men don’t think they’re great deep
down so have lots of partners.
“I realised at an early age that I was valuable because I was cherished.
But other black men don’t necessarily feel that way and don’t
feel life is important.”
Why is there so much homophobia in West Indian communities?
“I think homophobia in the West Indies is largely due to Christianity.
Christianity sanctioned slavery and the Church had a big downer on women and
gays. Countries that were colonised took on Christianity word for word. The
level of homophobia has a lot to do with Christianity. Man’s interpretation
of Christianity has a lot to do with intolerance.”
Dance4Life
Last year Maxi featured on the smash European dance track Dance4Life released
by DJ Tiësto as part of the Dance4Life HIV youth awareness project. Why
did he get involved?
“Because I was asked to and it was the right thing to do,” he
explains.
“I was asked to get involved to fight HIV in South Africa. Apparently
the song is a huge hit in Europe.”
Has he personally been affected by HIV?
“I haven’t had any personal experiences of HIV yet,” he
ponders.
“But it certainly doesn’t make me complacent. Actually, look at
this.”
He leaps to his feet and shows me his t-shirt emblazoned with the slogan:
“Aids is a weapon of mass destruction.”
Blight
of bling
Max is no stranger to speaking out about social injustice. In 2006 The Guardian
interviewed him about his views on the sale of ‘conflict diamonds’.
“While we continue to display our childish lack of self-esteem by adorning
our bodies with things others can’t afford, in particular, diamonds,
then African children, mothers and fathers will continue to be slaughtered,”
he told the paper.
“With our love of bling, we in the west heedlessly fuel the unimaginable
misery of millions of Africans.
“The human cost is shocking. We take on the same immoral self-serving
philosophy that has held us down. Worship of the dollar is a given in the
USA. It isn’t seen as vulgar. It’s on every rap song and that’s
how people live their lives. It’s a reflection of their culture.”
Teeth and tights
Sitting side by side on his sofa I asked him about the inspiration behind
his famous lyrics, regarded as one of the main reasons for Faithless’
music being more meaningful than that those of most dance acts.
“My greatest inspiration is people and life. I insert my Buddhist principles
into my lyrics.”
But what of the infamous line in Insominia, dreaming of “ripping off
tights with my teeth”, I inquire? He chuckles, “Yes, that’s
actually based on something I’ve done.”
Not something I should show to his mother I muse, picturing the somewhat disturbing
imagery.
My partner recently saw Faithless live at the V festival and said they were
the best act there. What is it like playing to thousands of people?
“It’s really humbling. A really odd feeling. A lot like driving
a racing car; you don’t really enjoy it until it’s over because
you’re concentrating so much.
“It’s afterwards that you think ‘wow, that’s great’.
When you see so many people jumping as one, it really touches you but you
have to hold that to yourself. It’s one of the most incredible sights
I’ve ever seen.”
Get an ‘ology
We reminisce for a while about being kids and his mum, “the wisest person
I’ve ever met” as he describes her. I remember that he’d
worked for a while with my mum at BT and was described as showing “great
promise of rapid promotion”. Luckily he didn’t follow that through.
How did he maintain his resolve of sticking to a musical career?
“I was in a band at school and I knew it was what I wanted to do. It
was expensive getting the equipment, so it taught me to get off my ass and
do something.
“In 1994 I was on the telly for the first time. Finally dad got it and
thought ‘maybe he can make a living from this’. You have to fight
your own and others negativity, people who only want the best for you. You
need wilful determination not to stop and to have self belief.”
A lighter step
Before I end the interview I ask him if there’s anything else he’d
like to add.
“One of the most important things is charity begins at home,”
he says. “I learnt that through Buddhism. The world you walk around
in is only a mirror of your internal self. Once you believe the world is a
beautiful place it becomes it. It isn’t good luck or bad luck, you need
to value yourself then the world will value you. If you don’t love yourself,
others won’t love you. You can’t know what charity is until you
can be charitable to yourself. I’ve gleaned all of this through Buddhism,
it’s all helped me. You don’t need to be a Buddhist for it to
help you.”
As I’m about to leave, I remember Darren’s passion for Faithless
and sheepishly ask for an autograph. Max grins broadly and hunts about for
a Faithless DVD, which he signs. He then spends 10 minutes peeling off the
sticker that obscures his message.
“I hope you let him know what I’ve been through in doing this!”
he laughs, meticulously picking off bits of the sticker.
I leave his house and step into the West Norwood drizzle, but with a lighter
step and new appreciation of south London.
