Tony was raised in South East London in the 1970s on a diet of mashed potato, country and western and Smokie and the Wombles. His first obsession, a love of cornettos, was replaced by music after witnessing Morrissey twirl his skin frame on Top Of The Pops.
His impatience showed early on when he appeared two months prematurely, not wanting to wait any longer before he could start buying records. It's a habit he has yet to shift. The Smiths where swiftly followed by New Order, The Cure and a cast of a thousand. The proto hip-hop leaking from the pirate radio stations in his brother's bedroom managed to crawl nto his consciousness.
Having failed to pass muster as a Goth - the hair colour was right but the love of Electro wasn't - Tony was exiled to Bath in the early 1990s. His childhood ambition of becoming James Bond failed after he expressed a preference for Cider and Black over a Dry Martini.
After stumbling through college and attempting to build up a CV of the world's worst McJobs, a chance meeting with Robert Johnson's ghost, not at the crossroads but on the number 14 bus, led to a career in Reprographics. A few stints as a DJ in dingy basement clubs earned him the nickname Phat Tone. He was never sure if this was a reference to the beats he played or his consumption of Ben and Jerry's ice cream.
A self-confessed vinyl junkie and Ebay fiend, Tony spends far too much time and money on searching dusty second-hand record shops for that King Of The Slums single he lent to someone in 1989. Each night he prays to the Roman goddess of music Minerva (take note, Madonna, it's not you) that one day Mark E Smith will appear on the X-Factor and that Simon Cowell will explode consequently.
Listening Pleasure This Month: The National, Espers, Cagedbaby, Bob Mould, Mark Eitzel, Magic Numbers, Malcolm Middleton, Scissor Sisters, My Computer,The Killers, Kaiser Chiefs.