My Philosophy: Mark Jones

In 1994, in the wake of the acid house explosion, Mark Jones drafted a musical blueprint that would forever alter the face of electronic music. While working at Soul Trader record distributors, he and partner Mark Lessner decided to assemble a compilation of all the great music that passed through their fingers. The resulting compilation, Give ‘Em Enough Dope, Volume One, rivaled tastemaking releases fostered by established labels like Ninja Tune and Mo’Wax. The series (and the Wall of Sound label) would go on to launch the careers of artists like Basement Jaxx, Propellerheads, Stuart Price (aka Les Rythmes Digitales) and countless others.

“That’s what I would say to people: Never look back. Always go on and move forward, because it’s the only way to go.”

Jones wasn’t as much a studio taskmaster and he was a sparkplug that helped fire his artists’ creative engines, helping them achieve their true sound. Some artists jumped ship to other labels, some stuck around, and one went on to become the world’s most enigmatic and sought-after street artist (more on that later).

Now, 21 years after the label’s inception, Jones has blessed us with a two-CD compilation of tunes—tried and true classics, live sessions and fresh re-rubs—that plot the label’s unique trajectory. From the Human League and Grace Jones to Röyksopp and Mekon, Walls Have Ears doesn’t just represent Jones’ musical DNA; it represents the DNA of an entire era of dance music.

In about four seconds, a teacher will begin to speak…

I had to convince my mom and dad to get me a synthesizer. It was a Yamaha CS01. I used to sit in my bedroom and just make all these noises.

The first album I ever owned? The Monkees Greatest Hits. The way the melodies were put together really struck me, and it’s lived with me forever.

I formed this band called Perfect Day. We got found by a major, and I was on the cover of magazines. I don’t know if I was a teen heartthrob. I had girls sleeping in my front garden at my mum and dad’s house. Honestly. They were in tents. It was interesting times.

You weren’t allowed to say, “I love hip-hop. I love Kraftwerk. I love Steely Dan.” You weren’t allowed to say those things, because you were in a box; but all of those people we created those sounds with [at Wall of Sound], they loved everything. We brought all those barriers and boundaries down.

I never sit in the studio and say, “Don’t do it like that. Do it like this.” It’s always about giving artists the platform to be who they are and not compromising that artistic integrity. That’s what it’s always been about for me.

In the early days, I never had contracts. I refused to have them. But the way that things have evolved, it’s not that dissimilar now with the 360, as we call it—or as I call it, the 720, because we’re going around in fucking circles.

I don’t think pop has to be a four-letter word.

“How would I describe acid house to someone? I think I’d just turn the lights off and put on Pierre’s Pfantasy Club’s ‘Fantasy Girl.’ Then I’d just play with the light switch and turn it on and off and on and off and on and off again.”

What I wanted to do was change people’s lives—and not just those people who [we were trying to break] as artists, but people who would listen to something on the radio or in a club.

There are a lot of artists that I’ve helped. I gave somebody a platform. I gave him a studio and said, “Right, I think you’re really great. You just have to do all my artwork,” and he said okay. He did lots of stuff for me. I’ve just emailed you some. You can work that one out, can’t you? [Ed. Note: Here are the images Mark sent. Yes, it’s who you think it is.]

My wife Charlotte was the first female DJ to properly break through, I think. Lottie is her DJ name. She was on the cover of every magazine. She was the first female taken seriously [as a] DJ.

Who controls the stereo on road trips? That’s a really good question. I’ll hand you over to her. She’s in the bath. Let me just walk upstairs.

There’s a personal story behind it, but I can’t really go into it. If I don’t wear pink now, people get really odd. “Why aren’t you wearing pink?” I’m like, “Well, it’s Monday and I’m wearing blue. I wear blue on Mondays.”

I find sleep very boring.

My memory is wiped from the crazy, crazy days. Nine years, eight months, 27 days, 14 hours and approximately 12 minutes. I remember a little bit more since then. I never went onto the hard stuff, ever. And I wasn’t reliant on it. I do the mixed juices now and all that stuff, but I’m on the other gear. I do a line of cake every night.

I love football. My nine-year-old son, Stanley, has been signed by Reading Football Club. It’s the youngest they can start a player. It’s a massive commitment because you’re there five times a week, but it’s great because he’s learning and he’s moving forward, which is really good for him.

My dad gave his life to the game. He was a signed as a player and then became a counselor for the FA, so we used to sit in the Royal Box at Wembley every game. I didn’t really realize until I’d grown older a bit how much he did. I played for a certain level, but I was skinny as a rake and would just get batted off the ball every time. I may move into football management if Stanley carries on the way he’s going.

What would my ideal weekend be? Maybe just sit down and watch television? I don’t know. I can’t sit down, that’s the other thing.

It’s been an interesting journey, with up and downs, but I only want to go forward. That’s what I would say to people: Never look back. Always go on and move forward, because it’s the only way to go.