Interview:
Leeroy Tornhill
Interview:
Leeroy Thornhill
For those who lived through the seismic shift of the early rave scene, Leeroy Thornhill is a name synonymous with its pulsating heart. A pivotal figure in the acid house movement and a founding member of the genre-defining band The Prodigy, Leeroy’s journey has been nothing short of extraordinary. I recently had the privilege of delving into his past, exploring the rise of rave, The Prodigy’s global domination, and the intricacies of the modern music industry.
Leeroy’s musical roots run deep, far predating the rave revolution. “I’ve always been into music, sort of underground thing. Me, my sister, when I was 10, my sisters were little punks. So, I was listening to Led, the Slits and the Crash and the Velvet Underground and, you know, all that sort of stuff. Iggy Pop and uh even Fleetwood Mac. I’d always been into music, then into sort of the mod scene and then the break dancing scene.” This early immersion broadened into rare groove, soul, and then hip-hop in the mid-to-late 80s, embracing the burgeoning electronic sounds of Depeche Mode, Gary Numan, and Yazoo. The electronic sound, initially niche, began to seep into the mainstream, heard without conscious recognition. Disco’s integration of drum machines further paved the way, until “all of a sudden the acid house thing was here.”
His DJing career began at 15 or 16, though true beat mixing would come later in the 90s. When acid house first hit, Leeroy admits he was initially “a little bit standoffish. I kind of didn’t get it. It was very acid, you know, like that. Just bleepy-bleepy stuff.” However, a subsequent experience sealed his fate. “That was all that mattered really. Every weekend going out and and just listening to music, dancing, meeting people. Um and then going back to the real world during the week, just to make it to another weekend…carrying that that euphoria from the weekend over during the week, just waiting for it to happen again.”
The genesis of The Prodigy was a natural evolution from the local club circuit. Leeroy met Keith Flint through mutual friends at a club. Liam Howlett, already a hip-hop DJ, later re-entered Leeroy’s orbit at the Barn nightclub. It was Liam’s mixtape, featuring his own productions, that truly captivated Leeroy and Keith. “We just heard it and just like blown away by it and just asked him if he fancied sort of putting a PA together what it was then it was called PA…Uh just yeah, literally just to get out and play at the raves we used to go to.” Maxim joined after meeting the band at their first soundcheck, completing the iconic lineup. It was a true “DIY” ethos, a reflection of the era’s approach to music creation.
The technology of music production at the time was rudimentary compared to today. The Roland W30 keyboard, with its 16 tracks and rudimentary screen, was central to their process. Liam, a self-taught talent, would painstakingly play every high hat and snare drum by hand, seldom utilizing features like copy and paste. Leeroy often assisted with these technical aspects. The band also collaboratively refined tracks during live performances, using audience reactions to shape breakdowns and beats.
The Prodigy’s ascent from underground sensations to global superstars was not something they had anticipated. Leeroy explains they simply “went with the flow.” Their music, characterised by its aggressive energy and punk spirit, transcended conventional genre boundaries. “It catered for everyone, you know.” Despite the legal battles against the rave scene, Leeroy firmly believes “Nothing could stop that.” By 1994-95, The Prodigy had already moved beyond the increasingly fragmented dance scene, finding it more exhilarating to play for a rock audience than a sea of glow sticks.
Leeroy’s departure from The Prodigy in the 2000s was not the result of internal conflict or external pressure. “It was our band. It was what we said happened basically, you know. We didn’t have the agents and all that.” The relentless touring schedule became overwhelming. “From 97 onwards, it was harder to remember the gigs…because we’d done so many. We were just that was the time where for me it was, I kind of got to one point with two in America and I thought I think I’ve had enough now because it was just absolutely non-stop…it was just too much for me. It got to a point where it was like, yeah, burnout really. It was there was too many places and not enough time to do it all. So, yeah.
Life on the road for The Prodigy was never defined by excessive indulgence. “It was never ever like that.” The sheer thrill of performing was intoxicating enough. “There couldn’t be a drug invented that would make you feel any better than that.” His decision to leave coincided with the band’s natural shift towards a more rock-oriented sound, where he felt he was becoming “a spare part.” “it didn’t need me now” He took a break, but soon re-immersed himself in DJing and other creative pursuits.
The Mucky Weekender festival holds a special place in Leeroy’s heart. “It’s the festival for me…it’s the only one I can put my hand up and say it’s, you know, you could be teleported back to the 90s because of the attitude of the people at the at the festival.” He praises the friendly, respectful crowd, the intimate venue, and the consistently high quality of the music. “You can walk around the whole place so quickly and always find something.” He contrasts this with larger, more commercial festivals like Glastonbury, where artists are often expected to perform for little or no compensation despite being prominently advertised.
The financial realities of running a festival are immense, and the industry has faced significant challenges, particularly post-COVID. However, Mucky Weekender thrives on its strong sense of community. “All the artists want to play there because we all know what it’s all about, what Barry’s about, you know, how relaxed it is and, you know, and you can just walk around and everyone’s just cool.” The festival’s ability to foster a “family thing” where artists and attendees mingle freely is a key differentiator.
The conversation then shifted to mental health within the music industry, particularly in light of Keith Flint’s passing. Leeroy shared a recent family tragedy, underscoring the widespread nature of mental health struggles. He believes modern society, with its constant digital pressures, contributes significantly. “The s*** that goes on phones now…it’s a fight. Everyone wants 5 minutes…it’s pretty sad.” The corporate dominance of platforms like Spotify and Apple further complicates matters for artists trying to make a living. “It’s literally they pick who they want to be famous really.”
Leeroy’s book, “Wildfire,” offers a personal insight into his life and The Prodigy’s journey. Originally conceived as an image-heavy coffee table book filled with humorous tour anecdotes, it expanded into a more comprehensive narrative at the publisher’s request. However, the experience with the publisher has been a “complete f****** nightmare.” From a flawed cover to an inverted photo of Keith, and a general lack of promotion, Leeroy expressed deep disappointment. “It’s heartbreaking really the effort I put into it and everything. Delivered it on their doorstep, you know, and they f***** it all up.”
Looking ahead, Leeroy continues to create music, collaborating with Spanish breakbeat producers on labels such as Distortion Records and Electroshock. While financial returns are often minimal, he views it as a “hobby,” finding immense satisfaction in playing his new material live. He also crafts unique bootlegs, blending modern breakbeat tracks with classic vocals, ensuring his DJ sets remain distinct. “I think it’s important to play something people know, even if it’s twisted up.”
The festival season keeps him busy, with recent performances at Bearded Theory, Rattler Fest, and Shindig. He particularly enjoys Shindig for its diverse musical offerings and intimate atmosphere, where discovering new music remains a possibility.
Leeroy Thornhill’s story is a raw and compelling ride of passion, resilience, and a deep love for music. Despite how the industry has changed, his dedication to the craft and the community he helped build is as strong as ever.
Find out more about Leeroy’s music and upcoming performances – https://leeroythornhill.com/
Wildfire is a fantastic book, available in all good bookshops (and Amazon) – https://www.amazon.co.uk/Wildfire-Years-Getting-High-Prodigy/dp/1399616706
One place you will see Leeroy is at the sold out Mucky Weekender 2025. For tickets there’s a waiting list – https://linktr.ee/Muckyweekenderfestival or check out what you’re missing at – https://mucky-weekender.co.uk/
