Finding a venue was a headache. Some bookers thought it was a joke
I
’ve spent my life determined to be one of a kind – perhaps because I’m a twin. During our birth, my younger-by-two-minutes brother’s umbilical cord wrapped around my neck. It cut off my air supply, which left me deaf, while his hearing was unimpaired. That’s sibling rivalry for you.
I use hearing aids and am a strong lip reader, as well as being fluent in British Sign Language. When I take my aids out to sleep, you could fire a gun next to my ear and I wouldn’t stir. But with them in I have fairly clear access to sound.
I grew up in Hackney, east London, and had been fascinated by raving ever since I spied my older cousins coming home from illegal parties at six in the morning. On New Year’s Eve in 1993, I finally went to my first one. The second I walked through that door, I was hit by the lights and smoke, the throbbing beats, the bodies moving joyfully as one.
