Guru, master, teacher

He started the book and his wife finished it. Part autobiography, part family reconstruction, it tells the story of John Peel. a simple man obsessed with music. Review by Michael McCaughan

There is a small but devoted group of people for whom the mere mention of Nurse With Wound, Half Man Half Biscuit and Napalm Death elicit the same reverence as Muslims reading the Qu'ran at prayer time. Such people bow their knee to John Ravenscroft, the guru, the master, the teacher who was always one step ahead of the alternative music scene. Ravenscroft, better known as John Peel, died suddenly on holiday in Peru last year, and with him went a style of Dj-ing which may never be repeated. BBC Radio has replaced the Peel show with three different presenters who have carved up his eclectic music empire where reggae, hip hop and grime are carefully separated by anxious customs agents at the programming department.

It is rare for a DJ to survive the vagaries of passing fads and continue to hold each new generation in thrall but such was Peel's gift after 38 years on the radio.

Peel had written half the book when he died and his wife Sheila, who shared 33 years of wedlock and four children, does an excellent job of filling in the gaps.

What was striking about Peel's radio style was his dull, monotone, hinting at a grumpy personality. At times one imagined that he had been strapped into the hot seat and forced to play records. Then came the moment when his voice would rise and he would announce the arrival of the latest greatest record ever made, which might well have been recorded by a death metal trio from Japan.

Peel happily described himself as "the most boring man in the world" and few could argue with the moniker. There were no tales of wild parties and no hanging out with Bono or Sting. Peel was an "anorak" who spent most of his life at home listening to records, which were showered on him like a permanent hailstorm. Sheila Gilhooly, his partner, offers acute observations from her post in the next room.

But in a business dominated by PR, leather trousers and cocaine, Peel's very ordinariness became a shining example of down-to-earth decency, restoring hope that music could mean something beyond record sales and self aggrandisement. He championed emerging, unknown talent then quickly moved on to the next obscure band when commercial success came knocking.

When Bruce Springsteen was crowned the "future of rock n roll" in 1975 Peel called him "the summary of its past". Salvation, if such a thing existed, belonged in the cracks under the floorboards where innovation and attitude counted more than critical and commercial acclaim. Peel's anti-celebrity stance turned him into a celebrity with an entire stage named in his honour at Glastonbury Festival.

As the moral arbiter of all things hip on the alternative scene, new groups would hand over their first offerings, trembling in anticipation of Peel's verdict. His style didn't appeal to everyone and Jose Strummer, former Clash frontman, described his policy of playing anything and everything as "like a dog getting sick in your face". In the case of this music fan, Peel was an important instructor in early years, listened to under the covers on school nights, but his relevance dimmed in later years.

Peel faced regular criticism within the BBC where his show was considered "difficult" and this book recounts some of the internal heaves which finally drove Peel farther back into the late evening slot.

The book's format, part autobiography, part family reconstruction, ran the risk of turning into dewey-eyed sentimentality but Peel's own reminiscences offer an unflinching gaze at an unhappy childhood and difficult adolescence.

The young Ravenscroft suffered abuse at the hands of senior students and teachers. His rage and sadness, suppressed for decades, comes spilling off the pages. At boarding school Ravenscroft had to deal with douling, a term derived from the Greek word for a slave, by which new pupils had to do anything the prefect required of them, tasks which could range from boiling an egg to giving someone a hand job and in his own case, boot polishing the bicycle tyres of a boy called Cox.

All letters sent home were subjected to prior censorship so there was no one to appeal to. The abuse reached its climax in a public toilet where Ravenscroft was raped. "I think I had become so accustomed to systematic sexual abuse that I wasn't especially traumatised by the experience" writes Peel, but the scars are evident throughout the book. The adolescent Peel lost himself in music, transformed by the rebellious freedom represented by Lonnie Donegan and Elvis Presley.

An obsessive record collector, Peel's collection earned himself his first slot on a Dallas radio station in 1963, beginning a steady upward climb which led to BBC Radio One and the DJ of the year title for donkey's years among readers of the hip British music press.

Apart from music and family, Peel's main obsession was football, or to be more precise, Liverpool FC. His memories revolve around the big games and thus the 1950s is recalled not for any earth-shattering historic events but by "Liverpool's defeat by Arsenal in the FA cup final". While he was in Dallas Peel managed to talk his way into the press conference where Lee Harvey Oswald was paraded before the media, hours after the JFK killing.

Peel writes with his habitual wry humour and the book moves at a fast clip, ending just as you're getting to enjoy it. His wife's contribution helps debunk some of the myths; "he liked getting awards" she confesses, adding that he was always anxious about his shows, his ratings and his relevance.

The reaction to his death was overwhelming as graffiti appeared from Belfast to Liverpool while bands, DJs and listeners alike queued up to pay tribute.

The best homage of all however, would be a repeat of Liverpool's 2005 victory in the Champion's League. In the meantime this enjoyable book will appeal to anyone who ever crossed paths with Peel's extraordinary radio shows.