‘Is this all sounding a bit deep?’ asks Don Letts. ‘We’re supposed to be talking about f***ing jeans here, aren’t we?’ Letts is quite right. The ostensible reason the legendary DJ/ film-maker is sitting in front of me today is to discuss his involvement in the 150th anniversary of Levi’s 501s (more on which in a moment). But the thing about talking to Don Letts is that Don Letts has a lot to say on a lot of topics — all of it funny, fascinating and profound. This is, after all, a man who was at the forefront of 1970s punk, reggae, film and fashion. A London icon whose relevance has only grown with the passing decades; a man who has holidayed with Johnny Rotten, given style tips to Bob Marley (more on that in a moment, too) and worked with everyone from The Clash to Massive Attack. As such, a simple chat about ‘f***ing jeans’ can get very deep very fast.
Within minutes of our interview starting, we’ve segued into Letts’ memories of his south London childhood and how he’s seen the capital change in his 67 years. ‘London now... It scares the shit out of me,’ he says, with a shake of his head. ‘Because if you ain’t got money, it’ll f***ing kill you, man. All I see is glass and chrome and I don’t know who they’re making this shit for. It’s becoming this economically walled city, and if you haven’t got a reasonable bank account, you can’t come to the party. People are being pushed to the outskirts and I’m wondering: where’s it going to end? I’m an “all of us or none of us” kind of guy, so it’s frightening.’
Letts is London born and bred. His parents were part of the Windrush generation that came over from Jamaica in the Fifties, initially encouraged by the same politician — Enoch Powell — who would go on to demonise them in his infamous ‘Rivers of Blood’ speech in 1968. ‘I was 12 when [Powell] gave that speech,’ Letts recalls. ‘And he didn’t just polarise politics, he polarised the playground, too. Suddenly [at school], it wasn’t “You’re our mate, Lettsy,” it was, “You Black bastard, go home.” It was really sad. That’s why, at my age, you look at the bigger picture and despair at the way humans fall for the same tricks again and again. By which I mean the general rise we’re seeing towards the Right, globally. Like, come on, guys. Wake up!’ He breaks off, grinning beneath his trademark tam hat: ‘We’re getting too deep again! Get me back on the Levi’s thing!’
Ah yes, the Levi’s thing. So, rather incredibly, 2023 marks the 150th birthday of the brand’s iconic 501 jeans, and Letts has had a hand in curating the ‘501 Experience’ — a free pop-up landing in Shoreditch this weekend, packed with bass-heavy tunes and immersive installations. ‘The first time I embraced the 501 was through the skinhead movement,’ Letts remembers. ‘I would have been 13 or 14. The skinheads used to bleach them, or sit in the bath so they’d shrink to fit — that was the lick! Jamaicans loved them, too,’ he adds, ‘because they were versatile, stylish and durable. Nothing ages like a f***ing pair of Levi’s.’
Clothes have always been important for Letts, but he sees a crucial distinction between ‘fashion’ and ‘style’. ‘Fashion comes and goes,’ he tells me. ‘But as a child of Jamaican descent, I’m into style. Growing up, that’s all we had. Look at the people getting off the Windrush [boat] — look how they were dressed! That’s what we brought to the UK: the bassline and a bit of flavour.’
By the mid-1970s, Letts was disseminating both of these things across the capital as manager of ultra-hip Chelsea clothing store Acme Attractions. ‘You had Acme at one end of the King’s Road, and Vivienne [Westwood] and Malcolm [McLaren]’s shop, Sex, at the other,’ he recalls. Members of the nascent Sex Pistols and The Clash would bounce between the two — ‘but more people would hang out at mine because I had a better soundtrack and cheaper clothes,’ Letts laughs.
The Jamaican dub he pumped through the Acme speakers was pivotal in turning many London punks on to reggae — though he initially had less luck getting the Rastas to embrace punk. Bob Marley, a frequent Acme visitor through- out the 1970s, was wholly unimpressed when Letts rocked up one evening wearing that staple of every punk’s ward- robe: bondage trousers. ‘He told me to bugger off!’ Letts chuckles. ‘His exact words were: “You look like a bloodclart mountaineer!” But I stood my ground — which wasn’t easy as he was surrounded by yes men. I said: “Bob, these white guys have got something! They’re like-minded rebels!” Then, three months later, a more informed Bob Marley wrote the song “Punky Reggae Party” — ‘so I got the last laugh there.’
Bob said I looked like a ‘bloodclart mountaineer’ in bondage trousers
Marley wasn’t the only big name Letts helped convert to the punk scene. In the late 1970s, none other than Martin Scorsese requested a private screening of Letts’ superb 1978 documentary The Punk Rock Movie. ‘He particularly tuned into The Clash,’ Letts remembers. ‘He was interested in punk’s dynamic: young peopletrying to find their voice and place in society. But I’m such a fan I could hardly say anything to him. All I said was, “Thanks, Marty.” Only a few people can shut me up like that: him, Jack Nicholson...’ What happened with Jack? ‘Oh, we were sharing a pizza in LA once, in the 1980s. I made some inane comment about olives.’ He groans at the memory. ‘Why would you offer any dialogue in the presence of Jack Nicholson? Just sit back and bathe in his glory!’
This, you see, is the problem with trying to stay on topic with Don Letts — the anecdotes rain in from all sides, each one spiralling off into five others. As our conversation draws to a close, we touch on everything from his 1978 trip to Jamaica with ex-Sex Pistol John Lydon (‘The Jamaicans knew John was public enemy number one in England — you couldn’t get bigger kudos than that!’) to the Coronation. ‘I didn’t see it, actually, I was DJing in Margate,’ Letts laughs. ‘But I’ve got no bone [to pick] with Charles. My man talks to plants. Anyone who talks to plants is damn good by me. The institution [of the monarchy], though... that’s something else.’
King Charles? Anyone who talks to plants is damn good by me
As someone who has been open about his own youthful mistreatment at the hands of police, I wonder what he made of the arrests of anti-monarchy protesters on the day. He sighs: ‘The thing about the cops is: we kind of f***ing need them. Left to their own devices, people are kind of rude, so [the police] are necessary. But they’ve got out of hand. You give a young man a uniform: you’ve got a problem. And that’s the thing: it’s men. The problem is this “man madness”: the disrespect for the opposite sex and everyone in between. Women have been demonised all the way back to religion and children’s fairy tales — it’s so rooted in our culture. So, as men, we’ve got to try to level the playing field and be better people. We can’t be dicks all our lives...’ He tails off, exhaling through puffed cheeks: ‘Oh no. We’ve got into the deep stuff again.’ We have indeed. With Don Letts, it’s impossible to stick to the shallows.
The 501 Experience, free until 21 May, 11 Dray Walk and Dray Walk Gallery, 91 Brick Lane, E1
