Portraits of the Resistance Vol. 2 | Danny Rampling
DJ and Activist - Danny Rampling
The world renowned DJ, whose career spans over 30 years, from the early days of Hip-Hop, to the emergence of the House music of Chicago, Detroit and New York in the late 1980’s, into the Acid House and Balearic sounds of the 1988/89 Summer of Love, Danny Rampling’s talent, contribution and legacy to the dance music scene in the United Kingdom and across the World cannot be overstated.
This is the Danny Rampling I thought I knew. Danny’s name was synonomous with days of Ibiza parties and legendary club-nights, like his own, ‘Shoom’ in London. He was a rarefied OG of the House scene, by the time I became interested in taking to the wheels-of-steel myself (c.1994). Sadly, my own career behind the decks (my prized SL-1210mkII’s, which I have to this day) was never destined to be quite as illustrious. I could never have imagined, in my adolescent bedroom-Dj days, ordering records with my sisters credit card at 2am from New Zealand via the magic of the fax machine, that one day the world would be closed for business, clubs shut, playgrounds cordoned off, toys barricaded in the supermarkets, faces coercively muzzled, physicians everywhere ready with a syringe to poke into the nearest arm and that I would be heading to the beach with the great Danny Rampling...
While organising to meet I send a message to ask what kind of things he’s into besides DJing and saving the world. Unexpectedly but ultimately, perfectly, Danny tells me he loves to swim in the sea and has been doing it every day for years. We set a date to suit and agreed to meet in Hastings.
I remember my nerves on the drive to Hastings to meet. I was here to talk to Danny about our freedoms and the current tyranny we were living under, but all I could think of was tunes and clubs and private jets and parties and caning it. I wanted him to tell me stories of intercontinental DJing hedonism and debauchery!
Goodness knows why but I’d chosen to wear a shirt, jeans and boots. A pretty standard outfit for me but it was 24 degrees out and humid. I was already sweating by the time I met Danny after a small mixup on the way, where I mistook another beachgoer for him (there are no words to describe my shame at this). Things hadn’t gotten it off to the start I’d imagined. The real Danny Rampling wasn’t far away (I’d gone to the wrong carpark…) and we managed to actually meet up without further incident.
Music and work (as Danny refers to it at times), the topics which have been spoken on so many times before seem like faded memories of another life when we meet. Danny’s calm aura quickly put any remaining nerves I had to rest and diffused any of my fan-boy tendencies in favour of a deeper and more meaningful kind of exchange.
Its a disarming thing, you know, to meet those you’ve held in high esteem (for whatever reason) from afar. There’s a curious familiarity to it. You know their face, their smile, their voice. They’ve somehow been a feature of your life, making their way into conversations and becoming an artifact from a time or a place, a kind of relic. Oddly, but logically, not the other way around. The familiarity is entirely one-sided and subjective. Despite this, Danny still feels like an old mate when we first meet. In full posession of the charm and wit which clearly helped propel his success in the music world, he’s quick with a smile and a joke. His charisma and cheeky-modesty tell me all I needed to know about any youthful mischief.
We pick a spot on the pebble beach to sit and chat a while. I’m still lamenting my sartorial miscalculation as the late afternoon sun scorches (every single one it seems) the beads of sweat on my brow.
I’m surprised at the absence of ego about Danny. He gives off a wonderful vibe of the philosopher-surfer more-so than that of a world famous DJ. Danny talks about life during and post-DJ days. He’s calm and matter of fact as he talks about the strain of being a working DJ at the height of his career and the impact that can have on a young family; needing to work odd hours and spending a lot of time away. He tells me of encountering those with less than honourable intentions when they find someone to latch on to as cash-cow. It’s clear that Danny has been around the block, both in life and business. We talk about his (at time of interview) estranged relationship with his son as a result of his convictions about the covid narrative and experimental injections. Danny is far more open than I’d expected, sharing such intimate details with a relative stranger. It’s incredibly endearing and I’m grateful to him for being so open.
He suggests we walk along the beach a bit to where it’s less crowded and the shoreline is more interesting. I’m drenched in sweat by the time we reach the end of the beach where a rocky outcrop frames the shore and gentle waves create the perfect lagoon with the evening sun starting its mellow descent and providing the perfect, semi-psychadelic glow.
I get in the water up to my ankles and crouch down, trying not to absent-mindedly submerge my camera into the water as I try to find an angle that I think works. Danny is already in the water and without asking him to adopt a pose or to do ‘something’ he immerses himself and rises quickly out of the water, hands reaching to the sky, reminding me of the countless clubbers and ravers doing the same in front of the DJ booth. He emerged, like a Phoenix from the flames and I let the shutter clip several times as he surfaced, reborn, from this part of the English Channel. I knew this would be the shot I’d use and just hoped he thought so too.
He did…
UPDATE: - At time of publishing, Danny’s previously strained relationship with his son is back on track and it appears the apple hasn’t fallen so far from the tree, having played his first DJ set in Liverpool a few weeks ago.
I’m told that Dad is very proud.
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Great stuff Kerry. Love your work and terrific shots of Danny. Let me know if you are ever in Sydney on your travels back to NZ - would love to engage you to take some photos for us. John
Loving that pic ❤️