Leon Jean Marie

Leon Jean-Marie’s first involvement with music came aged 10, when his dad bought him a guitar, kindling an early love of Nirvana and Led Zeppelin. In his mid-teens he was part of a five-part R&B group called Syndicate. ‘You know, five black guys, bit like Damage…’ He laughs at the memory of his ultra-smoove former self.

But Syndicate had recorded some demos in a top-flite London studio. In those windowless rooms full of kit Leon felt he’d found his calling. One of the owners of the studio spotted his enthusiasm and gave him as a job as runner. As he learnt his way round a mixing desk, Leon began experimenting with his own tunes, and immersing himself in the arcane world of music production.

Thing is, at home Leon was also being told he was wasting his time. His mum and dad – like most of his family, they were born in St Lucia – are old-fashioned. And they’re born again Christians. Leon’s an occasional church-goer too, when he can. But whereas he sees his spirituality as enhancing his music, his dad’s more rigid values meant he felt music was no job for his son. It was bound to end in disaster. He needed a proper job, and a degree.

So Leon went to college, albeit to study Performing Arts, then landed a place at University. But he deferred his place and went to live back home. He had so many song ideas, ‘I just wanted to dive into the industry’. He was a studio whiz and a gifted multi-instrumentalist, skilled on drums, bass and keyboards. But still his dad was having none of it. ‘I was as stubborn as my dad,’ he says guiltily. The barneys got so bad that Leon moved out, roaring off into the night in his trusty Fiat Punto. He lived in his car, at mates’, semi-rough. It was a period of, he admits, drugs, sex and occasional depression. He can laugh about it now, but…

Throughout this period Leon had to put aside his music. He didn’t even have a writing pad, far less any instruments or studio access. But ideas were fizzing up inside him. He was desperate to get them out. And to get himself out - ‘It was like I was in the devil’s belly. Then he spat me back out.’

Word of his talent spread. Mark Ronson got on the blower. This was some months before his work with Robbie Williams, Amy Winehouse and Lily Allen would make him one of 2006’s most in-demand producers. Did Leon – who wasn’t even signed at this point – want to come over and do some tunes?

And on it rolled. After hiccups and humps and detours, Leon Jean-Marie was, finally, flying. Even his passion for building kit cars had to take a back seat. There were thumping great songs to get out of his head and down in the studio…

And to perform on stage. ‘The live thing’s a work-in-progress,’ says Leon. ‘I want to blend technology and the raw, live aspect. I’ve seen all the tricks people have done on stage. If you can imagine having The Rolling Stones mixed with Kraftwerk – laptops and rawness, seamlessly integrated. Beck’s last tour, with the puppets, came pretty close to what I want to do live. His band were playing on a dinner table. I’m working on stuff like that…’

Leon Jean-Marie is in the palatial Swedish studio of Bloodshy, knocking out tunes for his album, due next summer. He’s hunched over a desk in Mark Ronson’s New York bijou hit factory, wondering which of his 30, 40  tracks should make the cut for his debut album… He’s in The Bus Space, West London, bouncing ideas around with Gorillaz producers The Rural… He’s sitting at home, sweating over his studio, working on his first full single release for early ’07… 

He’s still driving that AC Cobra, fast round the country lanes of Essex. But he’s braking into corners now. He’s overcome a lot of obstacles; Leon Jean-Marie ain’t gonna prang out now.