HIS STORY Tom Findlay, 42, musician
I was lying on a beanbag in the attic of my parents’ house in Cambridge – I suspect I was slightly stoned. It had a low ceiling and I remember Andy coming in and stooping because he’s about 6ft 8in. I’d never seen anyone that big in that very small room. I was back from university – a friend from school, who is now Andy’s wife, had brought him over to meet me.
We both ended up living in London and started putting on parties and making music. Andy’s a much better musician than me. A mate named one of our nights “Captain Sensual at the Helm of the Groove Armada”. We started recording and shortened it to Groove Armada. If I’d known we’d be gigging all these years later, I would have given the name a lot more thought.
Playing Glastonbury in 1999 was when it all went a bit mad. Andy and I assumed no one would turn up to the Jazz World Stage at 2pm on the Friday but they came in their droves. That summer we stayed at the Manumission Motel in Ibiza, which was famous for its sex parties. Ibiza was at its most debauched but we were quite green. We’d partied in Shoreditch but never seen anything like that. It was there that we wrote “I See You Baby”. In your 20s you live that partying life more naturally. Now that we’re taking it a little easier it can be quite odd being at festivals surrounded by all these mad people. But we both find the surrealness quite enjoyable.
Andy has a touch of the gruff northerner about him when he’s in a grumpy mood but he’s very funny and we laugh at the same things. He’s amazingly calm under pressure. Our friendship has gone through different phases. It’s less intense now that we’re not playing live. But when we come together to DJ there’s a real sense of solidarity. Particularly because it’s just the two of us up on stage. We’ll always be more mates than colleagues.
HIS STORY Andy Cato, 42, DJ and farmer
I remember walking into Tom’s room at his parents’ house and it was beanbags, wall-to-wall funk and disco records, and a load of weed and Rizlas. We were 21 and I thought: “This is a guy I need to get to know better.”
We’ve been working together for 20 years and he’s as close to a brother as I’ll ever have. We’ve shared so many things that no one else could understand – like 15 years’ doing Groove Armada band tours and being on the road with 20 people. We were all in it together and split the proceeds, which created an amazing camaraderie. The memories spin when you try to pull things out. There were moments when there were 100,000 people waiting and nothing’s working and other moments of sheer joy when it all came together. In terms of the live gigs, when we were flying, it was really quite special.
Tom is a forgiving friend and gives more than he gets. He always goes the final yard to live life to the full. I’m slow and steady, but he’s fast and fleeting. He’s a bit of a worrier and a manic list maker, but I can’t imagine a world without him.
The details of our friendship have changed over the years. We used to be in each other’s pockets. Our girlfriends – who are now our wives – lived together, so we’d either be at theirs, in the studio, in a nightclub or at an after-party. I’ve spent more time with him than anyone else.
For the past 10 years I’ve lived in France and worked as a farmer, but we still DJ and make music together. It’s a strange double life between cows and grains and nightclubs. While we see each other less often now, when it’s the two of us on a Friday night we’ll find somewhere to have a beer before the night unfolds, and it feels just like it did 20 years ago.
Groove Armada’s new album Little Black Book is out on 10 July
