My First Club: Roni Size

My First Club takes us back to the beginning, transporting DJs and producers back into the depths of their memory, asking them to take us on a trip to those pivotal first nights in clubland. Following entries from the likes of Michael Mayer, Herve,MK, Slimzee,and Hudson Mohawke, we caught up with UK D&B don Roni Size, who zips us into the past for a trip to a carnival, an ice rink, and an underaged club.

I was lucky enough to grow up in a musical family. My parents came from Jamaica and they moved to Birstol with clothes, bedsheets and their record collection. I think they had around 50 or so reggae 7"s which they played on the gramophone in the lounge. That was the typical living room of a black family back then: a goldfish, a few paintings, and a gramophone with a rack of 7"s. We used to play them on rotation.

I had two older brothers, one of whom loved hip hop and funk, the other reggae. I used to steal the keys to their rooms and wait for them to go out, just so I could listen to their records. I did it so often that I grew to memorize the sound of their cars coming down the road. It helped that one of them had a BMW with a massive system in it. I'd hear him from miles away and knew I had a minute or two to clear out the weed smoke from his bedroom and get out of there. They used to send me record shopping, too, when they couldn't make it into town. I'd be carted off with a list of imports to pick up.

Talking of imports, we used to have a friend in New York who sent records over to us. We'd get all the hot new records from over there. If he couldn't get them we'd head into London and go to Dub Vendor and the like and walk out with a massive stack of 7"s. I loved that shit.

Now, before I'd even gone clubbing I knew the power loud music can have on large groups of people. You've got to understand who you're talking to here and where I come from. In Bristol we have St Paul's Carnival. I've been going to it since I was in a pram. I think the first time I went properly, as it were, was when I was seven or eight. I remember it being a party that went on from Thursday to Monday and it didn't stop. There was speakers everywhere. I used to hide in massive speaker-boxes and sneak into events before getting kicked out.

By the time I stepped foot in an actual club I'd already grasped the basics. So when I started making what became a weekly pilgrimage to Raquels, in the city centre, I knew what I was in for. Raquels was a proper club but they opened on Saturday afternoons for young people. I used to get up in the morning and go ice skating and then roll into Raquels from midday till six in the evening. That was my regular haunt.

Even though it wasn't for adults, they'd still have proper DJs playing proper music. The highlight for me was the weekly dance competition. I somehow managed to get through the heats, which was fantastic. I was busting some weird sorta-breakdance moves. I reached the final. I couldn't believe it — get me on Strictly and you'd see I've got two left feet. That was my first taste of attention though.

I've never never wanted to be the centre of attention or famous or someone with a stage presence. In my career, I was at the right place at the right time, had a little bit of luck and was associated with the right people. I was always the person looking up at the stage, always a spectator, never a performer. I was always OK at stuff but never great. DJing was my first real thing I was good at. I couldn't dance. I didn't rap. I couldn't sing. But give me a set of turntables and I was good to go.

I look back on the Raquels days as being pure. I'd never had a drink. I'd never experimented with drugs. Thinking about it reminds me of the pre-class A days. I remember what it was like before then. It was purer, in a way.

Roni Size's Live at Colston Hall drops November 13th via Reprazent. Head here for more information.

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