‘Tap tap tap. Pause. “I’m making a cup of tea at the moment. When I have finished my cup of tea, I will call you back.”’ Never had I heard such a voicemail message before, but this endearingly silly, light-hearted humour, as anyone who has seen the video-animation accompaniment to any Scruff DJ set will know, is characteristic of the artist. For once, it was good to be late, just to hear that. I love it; the older I get, the more I turn to a good bout of silliness for relaxation and laughter. It turns out that the encouragement of exactly this kind of reaction and mood is just what Scruff aims to achieve; his music is accessible to all, and typically unites all ages in one sweaty, grooving and skipping gig. He tells me later: “Music is there to be enjoyed. A lot of artists are selfish, and can only be appreciated by their own types. I’m not in to that at all; I don’t want to only appeal to white, middle-aged bearded record collectors.”

I finally arrive for the interview. “Nice to meet you sir.” I am taken aback. Never have I been welcomed so courteously. It must be ‘northern spirit,’ I think, but Scruff is a profound man, and asserts that any impression of a place is governed by the people you meet. “Manchester, I suppose, has a reputation for brashness, a bit of poke-poke abusive humour, but I think we should celebrate regional differences.” I mention that the North seems to be more friendly than the South; I’ve obviously been lucky and met the nice folks!

Andy Carthy, the man behind the Mr Scruff enterprise, is a passionate record buff. Passion is a wonderful quality, which this man exudes. His sound is individual and instantly identifiable, taking a lot from the early ‘90s hip-hop movement in terms of rhythm, but with a lot of brassy jazz and blues-type licks laid over the top of those knee-wobbling beats. It all started in the early ‘80s, “which was a great time to be growing up with some great music, like Madness, the Two Tones and Funboy Three. My dad was well in to trad and contemporary blues, and I started editing on our home hi-fi by the mid-‘80s.” The end of the ‘80s coincided with a bit of a revolution in music technology, when drum machines and samplers became available to artists themselves at a reasonable price, and Scruff jumped on the new wave straight away. This was when he began working on his own compositions, but he is insistent that he is “not a talented musician at all. [His] talent is with working with samples. [He likes] the grit and warmth and dirt from samples,” which you can’t get from modern recordings with faultless digital delivery.

I begin to realise that this interview is not going to be a normal half-hour quick fix. After an hour sitting in Scruff’s café, CUP, in the Northern Quarter of Manchester, amongst the sex shops and drug dens, but which still feels very cosy, more tea arrives. Tea must be Scruff’s other trademark. He owns a tea company in fact- www.makeusabrew.com- and is a great advocate of the drink. Uniquely, as far as I know, all of Scruff’s performances are accompanied by a tea shop at the back of the club. The philosophy is simple: “if you’re in a hot sweaty club at four in the morning, seeing a cup of tea is like seeing an oasis in the desert.” But the inclusion of refreshments usually associated with a Women’s Institute fete also makes people “walk in and smile.” Tea is “cheeky,” Scruff says- but “I’m not sure that the Americans get the whole idea.” This observation does not surprise me. Apparently, mainland Europeans also struggle with the concept. But the tea philosophy has another effect. It seems to discourage excessive drinking and drug abuse. Scruff’s gigs are all about the ‘natural high.’ You get there, you dance an inch off your shoes, then you sleep like a happy baby. And no hangover. Or ‘drugover’ for that matter.

Another point of uniqueness is his stamina. Scruff’s sets are six hours long. “In the ‘60s and ‘70s, everyone used to do it. I just like a really wide range of music, and I need the time to play it all. It’s all about tension and release, about playing with the audience.” This commitment to quality, to doing the job properly, is what makes a Scruff night so incomparable. He is a perfectionist when it comes to sound quality and ambience; a set-up will typically take four to five hours. “The magical quality in anything creative is down to nuance and suggestion. For that to happen, you need the best sound system and the perfect atmosphere. Without this, it would be like going to the Tate to find just a flickering light bulb. Disappointing.” There is a wry smile, which almost implies: actually, flickering light bulbs is what the Tate is all about anyway, isn’t it…

I try my luck, and ask Andy if he would ever be interested in doing a Cambridge May Ball. “I am very reluctant to perform to one demographic. I don’t really like the idea of all students, pissed out of their faces on alcopops and licking each other’s faces.” It transpires that this almost allergic response comes from a bad experience at King’s College, Cambridge. “It was rubbish. The worst gig I have ever done. There were these blokes in tweed jackets wandering round with decibel meters. We couldn’t go above 80 decibels, which is about talking volume. Stupid. It was like holding a boxing match in a library.” So it looks like Scruff will stick to the big international festivals and clubs for the time being. He is set to do the Big Chill in the UK, and the Garden Party in Croatia this summer.

If there is a general life philosophy from Scruff, it is this: “enjoy yourself, look after yourself and be nice to people. Gain experience, and don’t get bogged down by politics.” And maybe, with my inkling of inside knowledge, I could add “drink real ale.” Scruff was particularly complimentary of the latest Cambridge Beer Festival, held on Jesus Green.

Mr Scruff’s latest single, Ninja Tuna, will be out on May 12th. See review for more information.