So, my nan was quite the character.
Every summer my sister Heather and I would stay at my nan and grandad’s terraced house in a scrappy area of the well-to-do-town of Tunbridge Wells in the green and pleasant land of the south-east of Britain. While dotted with outings to the bleak British seaside and the park, the weeks were long and finding new ways to kill time became an art in itself.
Observing the looming lonely weeks ahead sprawling out in front of me at the cusp of teen hood, I knew I had to find something to fill the void. In part I credit the numbness of nothing to do as the reason I turned to music. I’d long been captivated by the ability of headphones to make the sound feel like it was right in the center of my head, and in this particularly hot July, my headphones became my second summer home, and the stereo in my bedroom an altar. Killing time took on a new dimension, and I would most often be found glued to whatever music device I could be closest to.
However, my nan didn’t quite get the fixation. Constantly baffled by my disappearance to absorb whatever new music I could find, begging for trips to the local record store, she shook her head at my new-found fascination.
My favorite snapshot from this time was a seemingly simple question, asking after my whereabouts as it was time for dinner. My sister replied “she’s upstairs putting deodorant on”. To which my nan, in one of the best misheard retorts ever, thinking I was once again lost in audio addiction replied: “Jen and her bloody records”.
That statement has stayed with me ever since. The addiction never ended, and only grew — fueled in every step by new discoveries, and now the ability to be fully immersed, leading the charge on a new era for a record label unafraid to push the boundaries, and do some truly amazing things.
I am proud to work with the artists and the team that I do each day, and even prouder that that same passion shows in everything I do. I am fearless every moment — and today, I truly am. Jen and her bloody records, indeed.