John Peel has died suddenly of a heart attack while on holiday in Peru, aged just 65. I can’t quite stop crying as I type this. As my friend said in an email today, ‘finally I get that whole nation mourns death of public figure thing’.
I didn’t quite grow up with Peelie as many of my friends did (but I was a late developer in many ways). But his voice, his self-deprecating humour, and the music he played, became part of my life in my twenties. He was my cool, beloved surrogate Dad. And I will miss him so much. I’ll be thinking of his family tonight.
And dammit, I don’t really have anything on my hard drive to play for him. I think I will have to go and download this.
Are teenage dreams so hard to beat
Everytime she walks down the street
Another girl in the neighbourhood
Wish she was mine, she looks so goodI wanna hold her wanna hold her tight
Get teenage kicks right through the nightI’m gonna call her on the telephone
Have her over cos i’m all alone
I need exitement oh i need it bad
And its the best, i’ve ever hadI wanna hold her wanna hold her tight
Get teenage kicks right through the nightI wanna hold her wanna hold her tight
Get teenage kicks right through the night
(The Undertones, ‘Teenage Kicks’)
Farewell, Peelie.
.
Well, I do have this to listen to, which I think is in the right spirit. (Except that I’ll cry again, dammit, when Kirsty McColl is playing.)
3 comments on “Our Surrogate Dad”
Peely was a big part of my late teens in the late 80s. Where else could you hear fey indie rockers like Felt, the House of Love and the Wedding Present alongside noise terrorists like Carcass and Napalm Death?!
I had tapes of his shows but a lot of the stuff was so obscure it was impossible to track down. He was probably the only DJ ever who was, genuinely, BBC controller-proof. I know they considered ditching him (certainly from R1) in the past but they knew there would have been an outcry.
One public figure who I’m sure will be universally mourned. At least the reds gave him a fitting send-off tonight.
Me too. Under the pillow with the radio, from about 1980 to about 1986. The Three Mustaphas Three, the Frank Chickens, U2 when they were good, The Raincoats, Ivor Cutler. Yesterday I felt like someone I knew had died. I’m going to stop taking the piss out of all the people who went woozy for Princess Di.
I really feel sorry for my son, who will have a JP-shaped gap in his life about 10 years from now.
Damn damn damn.
What have I become/my sweetest friend/everyone I know/goes away in the end