Like many in underground dance music culture, I am still reeling from the news that Keith McIvor AKA JD Twitch, passed away ten days ago. It was not a shock, for we all knew it was coming following his announcement in early July that he had been diagnosed with a rare, untreatable brain tumour. Even so, the news of his death has still hit hard.

It has been heartening to see the volume of tributes that have been paid to him from across the world of underground music culture, as well as extensive pieces in the Guardian, Resident Advisor, Mixmag, DJ magazine, Clash magazine, and in many Substack newsletters (including this excellent round-up of some of Keith’s best recorded DJ mixes by Philip Sherburne). As some of you may be aware, I wrote a tribute for Juno Daily, too, which was published last Monday and you can read here.

I tried hard in that piece to not only highlight the immense contribution Keith made to our culture as a DJ, producer, re-editor, remixer, party promoter and label founder/manager, but also what made him special as a human being. It’s not perfect, but I hope that it gets close to capturing him as a person as well as an artist. As you’d expect, it was tough to write.

There is more I wanted to say, though – and some of it is far more personal and therefore perhaps not appropriate to be aired within a piece carried by a media outlet. What follows, then, comes from a different head space.

To start with, I wanted to highlight how important a role Keith played in the story of Join The Future. Although we had known each other through music for a few years by the time I started work on it, it was through discussions about bleep & bass that our friendship was forged. Keith contributed to my original Resident Advisor article about the style (which is still available to read here), and afterwards he suggested that it was about time that there was a compilation charting the quality of bleep & bass cuts and their wider cultural impact.

Together, we decided on a format – a 2CD affair bundled with a thick booklet telling the stories behind the sound – and created a potential track listing. This was then pitched to a high profile and well-known independent label. Despite being enthusiastic, the label ultimately turned down our proposal, with their financial backers deciding it was too “UK-centric”. As disappointing as this was, it allowed me to pivot to an idea that had already taken root: that it was time someone, IE me, went out, documented bleep properly, and wrote a book about it.

Keith was hugely supportive of this, and during regular email exchanges always asked about progress and what I’d found out. He loved musical details and had long wondered about the people and stories about many of the bleep records that blew his mind between 1989 and 1992 (ones he played regularly on the dancefloors of Pure, the Edinburgh house and techno night he founded with his first DJ partner, Andy Watson AKA Brainstorm). When he and Jonnie were down in Bristol playing, we’d meet up and I’d invariably tag along. When they weren’t playing, Jonnie had to sit and listen while Keith and I exchanged notes on nerdy aspects of the bleep & bass story.

When, in early 2019, I was offered a deal for the book to be published by Velocity Press, Keith not only agreed to write a foreword – something he did for numerous authors whose work he appreciated and admired – but also offered to put out a Join The Future compilation. As he did with others whose compilations he backed and released, he gave me a great deal of autonomy – he trusted me to get it right and do the work required to get the compilation finalised so that it could be released within a few months of the book’s publication.

When it was due to drop – at exactly the same time as a certain British Prime Minister announced the first COVID-19 lockdown, Keith laid down a fantastic bleep mix to promote it on Warp’s online music store, Bleep.com. I’ve stuck it below as an embed so you can revisit it or check it out for the first time. It is, of course, a masterclass in joining the dots between classic bleep and more modern UK bass.

I will always be grateful for the opportunity that Keith provided to release the compilation, and for the backing he gave me throughout the writing process for the book. Many others whose compilations he released on Optimo Music would say the same, I’m sure.

Keith knew, and was rightly loved by, so many within music. In part that is because he always found time for people, loved using his platform for good – either as a campaigner for causes he believed in, or as a DJ, party promoter and label founder – and was a genuinely great person. Amongst the tributes to his artistry and incredible skill as a DJ, this aspect of his character has not been emphasised enough.

When Keith’s diagnosis was announced a few months ago, I was one of the hundreds if not thousands of people who took time to submit messages through the dedicated website set up by his wife, Marissa. The next morning, Marissa emailed me and asked if I would consider getting involved in a project Keith originally planned to take on in the years ahead. I told her – and later Keith himself during a few days spent in Glasgow last month – that it would be an honour. I’ll talk more about that in time as it moves towards completion (and it will take a while – watch this space), but I wanted to share here a lightly altered version of the message I submitted.

It has been updated and expanded slightly, but most of it comes from the message I submitted, and Marissa read out to Keith, back in July. It is not a total tribute, but rather reflections on what he, and the time we spent together at different points over the last 20 years, meant to me.

Dear Keith,

These are amongst the hardest words I’ve ever had to write. I have gone over them again and again to make sure that I have said everything I want to say, and that I have expressed my immense gratitude for your friendship and support over the last 20 years. Even then, it doesn’t seem enough.

Re-reading them following your passing last week is particularly hard. I want you to know that I appreciate the opportunity you gave me to discuss the sentiments and memories expressed in this letter, and much more, in person. I meant every word. Remember those promises I made to you before I left you in August? I’ll be keeping all of them. Your life and legacy are in safe hands.

I want to stress again how much you, Marissa, Amelie and Jonnie have been in my thoughts since your diagnosis was announced in July. If there is any way that I can be of assistance to them now or in future, I will be. It is the least I can do.

In such a difficult and hard to process moment, I think it is important to focus on the positive ways you have impacted so many people’s lives – including my own – and the terrific person you were. I now know, having been given the opportunity to read some of them, that you received hundreds, perhaps thousands, of messages like this from people whose lives you touched over the years – through music, of course, but also other avenues of your life.

I have been racking my brain to try and remember when we first met. I think it was when you came and played for Byte at Native in Bristol. Myself, Oli and our MC, Coherent, performed as Thumbs Aloft, warming up for you. Once we handed over, you played the most remarkable, energetic and life-affirming set – a masterclass in working a dancefloor and turning an event into a party. Afterwards, alongside our mutual friend Andrew Kipple, we sat and chatted while my best before: buddies Rich and Chris wrestled with trying to keep an excitable and packed dancefloor happy. Given how good your set was, it was an impossible job!

It was when I wrote the piece on bleep for Resident Advisor that our connection and friendship grew. You will never know, though I will try and explain it thoroughly here, how much our interactions about bleep and the friendship that stemmed from this niche subject meant to me. Our conversations kept me going when I doubted that the book was viable, or when I wondered whether I would ever finish it and get it published. It was you, too, who highlighted some of the lesser-known aspects of the sound’s international dimension. In so doing, you opened up whole new avenues for me to explore – avenues that then became the focal point of some of our conversations.

When I first read the foreword you wrote for the book, I was touched and blown away. That you also gave me the opportunity to curate and release a Join The Future compilation – and therefore backed the idea in the most supportive and enthusiastic way – will never be forgotten. It was, and remains, something I am extremely proud of and you, Keith, were the person that saw the potential. It was special, too – and fitting, given your important contribution to the book – that you hosted the Glasgow date of the second edition tour. That evening at Rub-a-Dub will live long in the memory.

The same can be said of the Join The Future party we did in Bristol. I feel honoured that you trusted me enough as a DJ to offer to play back-to-back with me. I know this was not that unusual, as you and Jonnie have done this plenty of times with others, but it still shows a level of trust, openness and generosity that is not always found within DJ culture.I have been lucky to do all sorts of sets over the years, but few have meant that much to me – in part because we bonded over the music that we ended up playing that night, but also because I have so much respect for you as a DJ. As you know, because we discussed it, I am not easily impressed by DJs or the desire so many have to explore a very narrow niche. There was not a set I heard from you in a club, or at a festival, that didn’t make me want to dance for hours like a lunatic. Whether solo or alongside Jonnie, you provided me with some of my most cherished dancefloor experiences.

Alongside Jonnie and a handful of others, it was always your approach to DJing, your skills and abilities, and the freewheeling, no-holds-barred approach to music that provided me with the most inspiration. This will continue to be the case. I frequently bore people with my obsession with DJing as an artform, the dynamics of the DJ-dancefloor axis, and the ideas and techniques used by the very best DJs. I learned a lot by watching you closely and it was always fun to discuss these things with you – frequently while sat in my front room, at the fringes of festivals, or on rare occasions while back at your place following Optimo parties. Like everyone else, I never tired of being educated by you – both in conversations and via your DJ sets

I would also like to say that I also felt honoured to be trusted enough by yourself, Jonnie, Caroline and the Ransom Note crew to be involved in Watching Trees as an artist. The vision you all have for that event is inspiring and life-affirming. It is exactly what an event like that should be, and like one big happy family for three days a year. You will always be there in spirit, and in our thoughts, as it continues in the years ahead.

On a more personal level, I am full of gratitude for your support and encouragement when I was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes in early 2021. I took a lot of inspiration from the positive way that you approached dealing with your own diagnosis and the changes you made in order to go into remission. That I also achieved the same sometime later was a sense of immense pride for me and I genuinely think that I would have struggled more had it not been for your support and encouragement. Those epic walks we had around Glasgow during that period were special, too, as our conversations went in a myriad of different directions. I particularly appreciated the detail you provided about Glasgow as a city – a place that you will always be associated with. As Brian D’Souza AKA Auntie Flo has pointed out, Glaswegians are all Optimo’s children.

Finally, I wanted to touch on you as a person. You have always been an inspiration, both as an individual and within the wider world of music culture. I frequently feel ground down by the bullshit of the “industry” and certain aspects of our culture, but you have always been a brilliant example of how a commitment to authenticity, community and the music itself – the way it can connect us, bring joy, and provide a platform to do good things for other people. At times when I am struggling or down about the state of our scene, I think about you, Jonnie and Optimo, and how you do everything the right way, for the right reasons. You are not alone, but it is increasingly rare.

A few years ago, after the death of my dad, I got into conversation with two people he worked with on a community sports charity in Sheffield. They told me that whenever they were unsure of the way forward, they thought “what would Ian [my dad] do?” This is the approach I intend to take as I continue to navigate my way through life and music culture. If I’m unsure, I’ll think “what would Keith do?” That way, I will never go wrong.

When we parted ways, I reiterated this point. I knew, at that moment, I would likely not see you again. But I meant it. In time, your story, and that of Optimo, will be fully told and your legacy documented for posterity. Those stories are in safe hands.

You may have left us all too soon, but you will always be there with us. Thanks for the love, support and inspiration. It has, and will continue to, mean a lot.

Godspeed, Keith – and rest in power.

Matt