Tony Mortimer, the East 17 frontman who provided the soundtrack to the 1990s with number one hits, has spoken candidly about the songs that have shaped his life and career in an personal musical retrospective. From the first single he ever purchased as a child of nine on Hoe Street in Walthamstow to the song he’d like played at his funeral, Mortimer reveals the deeply personal stories underpinning his most treasured musical moments. The candid playlist spans decades of hits and secret favourites, including a surprising admission about Take That’s Patience and the Dire Straits song that still moves him emotionally in tribute to his late brother. As he prepares to DJ at venues across the country this May, the nineties legend shares what truly drives him musically.
A Journey Through Foundational Audio
Mortimer’s music education began in unpretentious surroundings on the streets of Walthamstow, where a teenager with just 10p found the life-changing influence of music. His initial buy—Madness’s Shut Up from a local record shop—signified considerably more than a straightforward purchase. It was a statement of autonomy, a time when he could exercise his own taste and identity away from family pressure. The accompanying badge, prominently worn on his coat, became a symbol of achievement amongst his peers, cementing his place within a group of music enthusiasts.
The formative years that followed saw Mortimer develop an eclectic appreciation for music covering various genres. From the dynamic appeal of 1980s two-tone ska to the refined craftsmanship of 1990s dance music, he integrated sounds that would later shape East 17’s characteristic approach. These initial exposures taught him the fundamental lesson that music transcends mere entertainment—it creates relationships, establishes moments, and marks pivotal moments in our lives. Whether encountering new performers or revisiting beloved tracks, Mortimer’s journey reveals how the songs we discover during our formative years often remain our most treasured companions throughout adulthood.
- First individual buy sparked self-discovery and personal development
- Madness emblem served as marker of shared musical identity and connection
- Initial musical touchstones moulded his eclectic and diverse taste
- Seminal tracks remain deeply meaningful throughout life
The 90s Feud That Never Was
One of the defining narratives of 1990s British pop was the supposed intense feud between East 17 and Take That, two major boybands who dominated the charts and captured the hearts of millions. Yet Mortimer is keen to clarify the facts: the rivalry was never quite as hostile as the tabloids suggested. In fact, the two bands held each other in high regard that went well past the manufactured drama their individual fanbases enjoyed. The competition, he insists, was always tongue-in-cheek—a playful game that benefited both acts commercially whilst never devolving into genuine animosity. This revelation offers a welcome insight behind the curtain of 1990s popular music.
What makes Mortimer’s revelation notably compelling is his acknowledgment that he privately respected Take That’s artistic merit, even as East 17 cast themselves as their primary competitors. The bands existed in different spaces within the music industry terrain, yet the press hunger for drama constructed a story that neither group fully embraced. Rather than bitter enemies, they were colleagues navigating the same sector, occasionally crossing paths at awards galas and festival slots. This nuanced understanding of their dynamic reveals how the real rivalry existed not between the bands themselves, but between their devoted fanbases—a distinction that has mostly disappeared to pop history.
Take That and the Lighthearted Contest
Mortimer’s particular soft spot centres on Take That’s comeback single Patience, a track he sincerely considered was remarkable. Despite the public posturing and commercial competition, he appreciated the standard of their material and the artistic merit behind their revival. His openness in praising a rival act demonstrates the professional respect that was shared by the musicians themselves, even as their respective camps participated in the promotional banter that defined the era. The admission proves liberating—a chance to finally acknowledge what many in the industry already knew but rarely articulated publicly during the peak of the boyband wars.
The tongue-in-cheek nature of their competition tells us much about the manufactured nature of 1990s popular culture. Both bands understood the significance of healthy competition in increasing sales and media interest, yet neither held genuine ill will towards the other. Mortimer’s candid reflection suggests that the real story of 1990s British pop is far more cooperative and professional than the press reports ever implied. The rivalry fulfilled its function commercially, but behind closed doors, shared appreciation and professional courtesy prevailed—a reality that transforms our interpretation of one of pop music’s most renowned feuds.
Songs That Capture Life’s Defining Moments
Music possesses a distinctive ability to embed itself within the key periods of our lives, intertwining with the memories we treasure deeply. For Tony Mortimer, specific pieces have moved beyond as mere entertainment, instead serving as emotional anchors that signify major milestones. Whether it’s the initial album bought as a young child discovering independence, or a piece that creates professional doors, these song selections reveal far more about a person than any life overview could convey. Mortimer’s selections demonstrate how the score of our journey often finds us, embedding itself in our consciousness at exactly the times when we need it most.
The songs that define our lives serve as moments in time, instantly transporting us back to particular instances with sharp precision. For Mortimer, Deep—his own composition—represents the song that significantly changed his trajectory, opening new doors and positioning East 17 as a major presence in the pop landscape. Similarly, his choice of Bob Marley’s Sun Is Shining as his morning motivator reflects the intentional crafting of emotional tone in everyday habits. These selections aren’t arbitrary; they’re carefully chosen tools for getting through life, whether generating drive for morning exercise or offering strength to tackle the unknown.
| Life Event | Musical Choice |
|---|---|
| First Record Purchase | Shut Up by Madness |
| Career-Defining Moment | Deep by East 17 |
| Daily Motivation | Sun Is Shining (Funkstar De Luxe Remix) |
| Final Farewell | Always Look on the Bright Side of Life by Monty Python |
The Impact of Emotional Ties
The visceral impact of specific pieces lies not merely in their musical composition, but in the heartfelt sincerity they convey. Mortimer’s tearful response to Adele’s Someone Like You illustrates this occurrence precisely—he reacts not to intricate production or instrumental mastery, but to the raw sincerity embedded within her vocal delivery. The character of her singing communicates genuine heartbreak, forging an instant emotional bond that transcends the listener’s individual situation. This emotional transparency is precisely what distinguishes unmemorable pop from truly resonant artistry, and it clarifies why specific pieces become embedded in our memory whilst numerous tracks become forgotten.
Yet psychological bond cuts both ways, able to deliver both uplifting and devastating depending on context and personal history. Mortimer’s inability to listen to Dire Straits’ Romeo and Juliet without profound sadness demonstrates how music becomes intertwined with grief and loss. His late brother’s bedroom guitar performances have permanently altered the song’s meaning, transforming it from a beloved classic into a painful reminder of absence. This duality—music’s power to comfort or hurt—underscores why Mortimer’s musical selections reflect not mere listening habits, but a deliberate emotional archaeology, revealing the joys and sorrows that have shaped his journey.
Behind the Decks and Until Dawn
Mortimer’s relationship with music extends far beyond passive listening; as a professional disc jockey, he understands the nuanced art of gauging audience mood and selecting tracks that resonate with collective energy. His morning routine reveals a deeper personal connection to music—not the pounding beats of a packed dancefloor, but the soft comfort of Bob Marley’s Sun Is Shining remixed by Funkstar De Luxe, a track that soundtracks his cycling workouts as he works towards personal health objectives. This juxtaposition between the high-energy demands of professional DJing and the contemplative nature of morning motivation demonstrates how Mortimer harnesses music’s adaptability in varied settings and emotional landscapes.
The ex East 17 frontman’s confession that he’s “not a jump-out-of-bed person” brings to life the reality behind the glamorous picture of a touring musician and DJ. Rather than depending on caffeine or willpower, Mortimer has found that carefully curated music serves as his most powerful alarm clock, gently coaxing him into consciousness with warmth and optimism. This practical approach to track choice—picking tracks deliberately for their energising qualities—demonstrates a nuanced grasp of how musical elements can physically alter our mental state, transforming reluctant mornings into opportunities for self-improvement and wellness.
- Funkstar De Luxe remix offers each morning drive and vitality
- Exercise bike sessions combined with vibrant reggae-infused dance tracks
- DJ performance requires distinct song choices compared to personal listening
- Music acts as useful instrument for building wellness-focused daily habits
- Soft encouragement delivers superior results compared to harsh awakening techniques
DJing Mistakes and Dance Floor Dynamics
Even experienced DJs occasionally misread their audience, and Mortimer’s confession about clearing the dancefloor with Shannon’s Let the Music Play demonstrates this universal hazard. What began as a selfish musical indulgence—playing a track he truly enjoyed—resulted in widespread movement towards the bar, a sobering lesson that individual preference and crowd preferences don’t always align. Conversely, his dependable crowd favourites like CeCe Peniston’s Finally demonstrate his extensive understanding of what genuinely moves people, establishing that effective DJing necessitates balancing individual creative vision with crowd consciousness and commercial sensibility.
The contrasting outcomes of these DJing experiences reveal the delicate psychology underlying dance culture. C&C Music Factory’s Gonna Make You Sweat functions like an “electric shock,” its immediate infectious energy proving almost guaranteed for club settings. Yet Mortimer recognises that even well-known tracks can fail spectacularly when deployed at the inappropriate time or with inadequate attention for the crowd’s current mood. These valuable insights from the turntables inform a wider appreciation of music’s role in society—not merely as personal soundtrack, but as shared musical moment requiring sensitivity, precise timing, and true connection to group mentality.
Legacy and the Final Encore
When discussing the songs that have profoundly influenced his trajectory, Mortimer’s admiration for East 17’s Deep becomes readily apparent. More than merely a commercial success, the track represents a pivotal moment that unlocked countless opportunities for the band, securing their foothold within the competitive landscape of 1990s pop music. Mortimer’s frank admission that “without that song, there wouldn’t have been a band” underscores the significant influence certain recordings can have on an musician’s overall career path. It’s a testament that behind every accomplished artist lies often a single transformative moment—a track that resonates so powerfully it fundamentally alters the course of their professional destiny and artistic heritage.
Yet perhaps most illuminating is Mortimer’s selection of his final music selection: Monty Python’s Always Look on the Bright Side of Life. Rather than selecting a emotional love song or his own most successful tracks, he selects comedy and lightness, hoping to leave mourners smiling rather than devastated. This decision reflects his views on music’s true meaning—not simply to entertain or impress, but to bring together and inspire humanity through shared joy. It’s a appropriate close to a lifetime spent behind turntables and microphones, suggesting that the ultimate measure of a musician’s success is not chart positions or accolades, but the genuine happiness their work brings to others.