John Burgan

For those of us who knew Jon from his early teens, the past few months have been hard, really hard, trying to reconcile the boy we knew, the man he became and what happened in 2011. It still doesn't make sense that he has gone and probably never will, so here are some fragments, some snapshots of our friend.

Dave Brown's affectionate and highly accurate piece about him (for which thanks, Dave) focuses on the one aspect that we would all agree was so central: Jon's love, no his utter obsession for his music. Our own tastes were deeply influenced by what we had first heard echoing through the rooms of that sprawling, open-plan house at the Lawns. Jon playing the bass, practising with Malcolm, Peter and Rory in Voice, then later in the London Boys. Oh yes, what a lovely poseur he was - white jeans, black leather jacket and that pout in the mirror! And boy could he play guitar, jamming with Weird and Gilly (the latter probably that DJ from Gilberdyke). The gigs - Teardrop Explodes and some seriously dodgy punk bands at the Welly, R&B at the Uni, Johnny Thunders & Magazine at the college in Queen's Park Gardens, nervous that they wouldn't let us in on the door for looking underage.

There was another Jon - playing the cello in the school orchestra; acting in Pinter's "The Dumb Waiter"; impersonating Jon Peel for the audio tapes we would record in Malcolm's bedroom. Studying German and dissecting the NME. Riding to school together on our bikes along Hull Rd, Bricknell Avenue, Chants Ave, Spring Bank...one time returning home in the pouring rain, he rode into the back of a van and broke his nose. A grimace - but he recovered with plenty TLC at home. 

Remember that look when Jon was pretending to be interested - that face he pulled when he had to suffer a bore at a party? Doodling on his notepad in lessons. Whizzing around on his moped. Drinking barley wine bought from the off-licence on the Green - there's a taste we haven't had for decades.

It's been a revelation to read the tributes here and elsewhere, particularly those from professional colleagues at the height of his brilliance. Like many, we lost touch for quite a while when we were both out of the UK - reconnected again, radio silence and then again an email out of the blue...there is still so much I could say, want to say, but there will be no more messages now.

Jon's family doted on him, and gave him all the love and support upon which he built his life's work and career. Lucy, his devoted younger sister was always there by his side, growing up together in Cottingham and she loved her older brother to bits. I can't think of Jon without thinking of the Drivers there in the background as well. They were part of him, he was part of them. Part of him lives on in his sons.

I can't say any more than this: Jon, wherever you are, peace be with you.

from David Brown

I was at school and university with Jon, and during those intense and exciting years he was one of my closest friends.

We shared an obsession with music, and soul music in particular, spending hours at his parents' house at the Lawns in Cottingham listening to Stax and Motown records, and, of course, Iggy, the Velvets, and David Bowie.  We talked incessantly about artists, labels and songs, and played our latest records.  Jon thought it was hilarious when I failed to recognise "Green Onions" (doh!).

I'm sure we talked about other things; friends, films, TV, the usual college intrigues and romances: but when I think of Jon the first thing I remember is his passion for music.  I picture him playing the bass in his room in college, and getting his kicks "out on the floor" in his brand-new Carnaby Cavern suit.  A couple of times Jon took me to a disco he'd found in Gilberdyke, with a grumpy DJ who had a great collection of soul records that he seemed reluctant to play.  He would sandwich "The Champion" and "I Spy for the FBI"  between the Nolans and the Dooleys, and then return to endless Stars on 45 megamixes.

I have so many other memories: the time we got beaten up in Cottingham; a group of us taking cover as fists and furniture flew at a Zoot and the Roots gig in Scarborough; dancing to C-Bank's "One More Shot" as dawn broke over the Queen's College ball.  I remember Jon's big cheeky grin; he had an easy-going charm and made friends wherever he went.  At a college reunion in 2001 the question I was asked more than any other was if I knew whether Jon was coming.  I regret to say I didn't, and he didn't.

Jon loved his family, was loyal to his friends, and was just a lovely person.  I'm sorry that we lost touch after university, and I am so sad that he is gone 

from Susan Shaw

I met Jon in my first year at Oxford through our dear mutual friend Andy Matthews.  I had a crush on Jon from the moment I laid eyes on him –  he was unimaginably hip, with his narrow duds, spikey blonde hair, pointy shoes,  and sharp moves and grooves.  I was a shy and dumpy provincial girl overawed by the dreaming spires.  I considered myself far too uncool to be one of Jon’s friends.  What I hadn’t reckoned on though, was Jon’s innate kindness and compassion, his deliciously dry sense of humour, and his sense of fun.  Andy and Jon took me under their wing . Some of the most delirious nights of my night were spent dancing to Motown and Northern Soul with them.  This instilled in me such a deep love of black music that it influenced my choice of career – as I became a documentary film maker and made many films about soul, funk, jazz and hip hop artists.  I feel Jon had a hand in this.  Jon wore his massive intellect lightly; he wasn’t one to show off his own intellectual brilliance, but I wasn’t surprised to learn much later on, how eminent he had become.  He was certainly a star, but he was also a lovely and adorable person; I feel so lucky to have known him. 

from Simon Thorpe

For me, Jon was without doubt one of the finest scientists the field has

known. His ability to produce volumes of top notch science will surely be

hard for anyone to match. I was devastated to hear that we have lost this

truly remarkable person who I remember with much affection. But I was

particularly touched now that the reports from the inquest into his death

have appeared, which fill me with an even greater sense of sadness. What a

tragedy....

from Andy Matthews

Jon was my best friend.  We met in our first term at Oxford and he was

easily the coolest kid I'd ever encountered.  I was enormously impressed that he'd

had to decide whether to come to Oxford in the first place or stay with his

beloved band, the London Boys.  He had enormous charisma, and the best

record collection you could ever wish to listen to.  We did discos

together, inter-railed round Europe together, studied together (which

mainly consisted of me trying to copy his elegant and well constructed essays),

went on demonstrations together, and played a lot of pool.  He was always

at the very epicentre of the in crowd and he always made sure I was

included in whatever was going on.  I half expected someone so  cool and so

clever to have an unpleasant edge, but the opposite was true.  He was kind,

supportive and generous.  He also had a beautiful relationship with his

lovely family and my thoughts will always be with them.

Our lives developed in parallel and we stayed close throughout.  I saw him

a week before he died and we discussed everything from our wonderful

children, to going to Arsenal together, to the relative merits of Donny

Hathaway and Marvin Gaye.  I knew little of his brilliant career, such was

his modesty - to me he was just my brilliant friend with whom I went to see

Booker T and the MG's.  I miss him terribly, but I am grateful to have had

such a wonderful person play a significant role in my life - and my life is

all the richer for it.  Jon was my guide, my support, my sounding board, my

conscience and above all my dear, dear friend.  He lives on in our

memories, and he is particularly vivid in mine.