A life spent intentionally on the outskirts of the mainstream resulted in a trend-defying career informed purely by a love of music. He shaped the indie-dance crossover era through his production work with Primal Scream and remixes for the Happy Mondays and Saint Etienne.
He dug deep to play obscure rockabilly records in pub back rooms. He knocked out some of the best wonky, dubby electronica of the '90s as part of Sabres of Paradise. Johnston is still steering that ship, and has just released a track compilation to celebrate 15 years since its inception.
All of this resulted in a legacy that has only seemed to grow and intensify in the five years since his passing. Such was his influence that, for many, the question "What Would Weatherall Do? Andrew Weatherall had a way of distilling life into simple, sharp truths. Jah will provide. Read books, eat biscuits, and never underestimate the power of a proper cup of tea. Adrian Sherwood is the boss. A good haircut matters. Quality is remembered long after price is forgotten.
Keep it under bpm. Work hard, do your research, then do more. Always be prepared. Low culture is just as valuable as high culture. Laugh at yourself, laugh at everything. Always do a sound check. Cake is good. From my very earliest memories of Andrew, I could see how different he was from other DJs.
His brutal honesty and razor-sharp wit would suggest he was perhaps far closer to the corner of alternative culture I recognised than the mainstream of dance music. He helped shape how a modern DJ could stay true to themselves with old fashioned values. Every encounter I had with Andrew would be the same: his opening greeting would be punctuated with something that would make me smile and value that moment.
