I’d like to say a word for Mr. John Peel, 1939-2004.

I always found him fascinating; he was a radio disc jockey that for some reason accrued all this respect from bands and listeners, and I didn’t know why. He just played records, didn’t he? Well, yes. But it’s what he did to nurture fresh talent. It’s how he batted off critics who said his devotion to the un- and only just- signed acts proved he didn’t think mainstream music was cool enough. He said his position was such that he could bring great music to a wider public’s attention, and that he would stick with bands for longer but a) they didn’t need him when they were famous and b) there was a bottomless well of talent there to be discovered, so his work was never done.

It was his eclecticism: he was so unpredictable he was almost annoying. Almost. Many people said he was overrated, and I was always brought up to think so. In fact, if I’m honest, I only very rarely caught his show because it was so uncompromisingly weird. It seems silly, and a total contradiction, that I have a CD (2002’s FABRICLIVE.07), compiled by the man himself, that I listen to all the time. Perhaps I should have stuck with him for longer.

Still, there’s something very cool about being sixteen in a mate’s car, hearing a Glenn Miller-esque big band 78, followed by Dizzee Rascal, topped off with some obscure underground Russian trance or something. Whether or not you find that sort of eclecticism big or clever, one thing’s for sure: only John could to get away with it.

I hope the Kop Choir pay their respects at the next match, he’d have loved that.