When Nigel Kennedy was still just a child prodigy mastering the violin, he tried to fit in but his hair wouldn’t let him. There was a wild tuft at the top of his head that couldn’t be tamed, whether he tried to gel it down ‘like Bob Hope’ or grow it out until he was told to get it cut. Eventually he gave in to his inner punk... and a star was born.
The former enfant terrible of the classical music world may be approaching his 70th birthday (his diary is so full that plans are already being made for the big day, even though it’s three years away), but his famous Mohican hairstyle is still very much in evidence as he greets me by popping his head round the gate at his Tardis-like north London home, one of three houses he owns (he’s thought to be worth around £5 million).
The former enfant terrible of the classical music world may be approaching his 70th birthday (his diary is so full that plans are already being made for the big day, even though it’s three years away), but his famous Mohican hairstyle is still very much in evidence
Aston Villa fan Nigel Kennedy and son Sark in 2000.Sark, now 27, was sentenced during Covid when Nigel was locked down in Poland, so he couldn't even get to see his son in court or prison
He’s wearing a vintage Aston Villa top – vintage in that he’s had it nearly 50 years. He does a mini bow and grabs my hand to kiss it before showing me around. You won’t be surprised to read this is not like other celebrity homes, even if it is worth several million. There’s barely a clear surface to be seen in the kitchen and the living room is covered in sheet music. His garden is so gloriously overgrown a family of foxes have made it their home. ‘This is one of my oldest but most garish shirts. I wanted to look special,’ he smiles. ‘What am I like, greasing up to everyone? A bit like Keir Starmer.’
Nigel has always been known for his left-wing politics as well as his party lifestyle, so it’s a surprise he isn’t enamoured of our first Labour prime minister in 14 years. ‘I haven’t liked him since he banned members of true Labour,’ he tells me. ‘Like Corbyn, for instance, who’s been trying to do something for human rights and represent the people of his borough. And that Galloway geezer. Even Diane Abbott. Unbelievable. I mean, she talks a lot and that’s heavy, but there’s something wrong with it, isn’t there?’
I tell him Corbyn – who Nigel rejoined Labour for before leaving again when he was thrown out – was forced out because of his anti-Semitism. ‘Do you reckon he’s anti-Semitic?’ he asks. I nod. ‘I’ve never been aware of it,’ he insists.
I remind him that his main home in Poland, where he lives with his artist wife Agnieszka, is in the countryside outside Krakow within a few miles of Auschwitz. ‘Yeah,’ he agrees. ‘But I find it hard to imagine anyone being anti-Semitic even though, actually, there’s a government radio station in Poland that preaches anti-Semitic and hom*ophobic stuff,’ he says. Mostly he tries not to think about the right-wing politics of his adopted country. ‘I’m in the mountains, and the main concern is wild boar, bears and wolves, more of an imminent threat than anything to do with one’s genetic background.’
He lives in a tiny village in a house that’s so eco-friendly it even has wooden drains. While he’s very conscious about the use of plastics, he admits, in a theatrical whisper, that he’s not sure about global warming. ‘I think we’ve replaced the truth with facts,’ he says. ‘I’ve got a big problem with global warming alarmism, as if it’s us doing it. I’m a conservationist – I believe in not filling dolphins full of plastic and I see the hypocrisy of going to a supermarket and finding everything is covered in plastic. But I’m sceptical that global warming is man-made. It’s arrogant to think we’re the cause of everything.’
Global warming doesn’t affect him much in Poland. In the winter the farmer next door has to come along with his tractor and make sure he and Agnieszka aren’t snowed in for months on end. ‘Everyone knows everyone else’s business – the little grapevine of gossip extends equally to everyone, whether they’ve shot a wolf in the forest or if, like me, they’re continually making noise on the violin,’ he says. ‘Some of them know me because I was one of the first to go to Poland when it was still turning from socialism to capitalism in the early 80s. At one point I was like an exotic new bird but now I’m just a pigeon among all the rest of the British tourists.’
He laughs because he’s a jovial chap, albeit one with strong opinions. He remains the best-selling classical violinist in the world, but there’s a sense of mischief about him. Much was made of his mockney accent when he first arrived on the scene – after all, both his father and grandfather were eminent musicians - but having grown up first in Brighton and then Solihull, the part co*ckney, part Brummie accent remains.
His best friends are still fellow Aston Villa fans, in fact he says he was so annoyed that Jack Grealish was dropped from England’s Euros squad (Jack’s dad is one of those football friends) that he couldn’t get behind the team at the tournament. It’s this earthiness of the football fan combined with the refined beauty of classical violin that make Nigel who he is.
He’s the George Best of the classical world and, like Best, his love of partying is legendary. He admits his biggest expenditure has been booze. ‘It could be close to a six-figure sum. I look after everyone. There’s champagne, expensive hotels... My favourite club is my hotel room, playing with friends until the early hours.’
He’s done his fair share of drugs over the years but now he sticks to marijuana. I wonder if he ever went too far with the partying? ‘No, I’m a happy cat right now so whatever led me here, it’s got to be all right. It might be that I look at something in the past when I was unhappy and I think that was a pivotal point, but that led to where I am today.’
His parents had issues with alcohol and his only son Sark, by former partner Eve Westmore, has twice been jailed for supplying cocaine. He was caught with £15,000 of the drug in a car in 2021, and had a second spell in jail in 2022 after pleading guilty to conspiring to supply class A drugs.
Nigel, whose third house is in Malvern where Sark grew up, believes his son is turning his life around. ‘In some ways prison did him some good,’ says Nigel. ‘It’s made a man out of him, he’s not an overgrown boy. It’s like being in the Army, I suppose. It toughens you up.’
Sark, 27, was sentenced during Covid when Nigel was locked down in Poland, so he couldn’t even get to see his son in court or prison. ‘We were closed down and he got through the whole of Covid without having to have the vaccine, which is a good thing as people are now finding out bad news about vaccines,’ he says, going somewhat off on a tangent.
‘He was moved around a lot in the prison system and I didn’t see him until his term was finished. It felt like a weird position. I was completely powerless and I was worried I was worried for his life. I prayed he would come out of it in one piece, and luckily that’s how it transpired.’
The violinist's only son Sark,by former partner Eve Westmore, has twice been jailed for supplying cocaine
Kennedy is the George Best of the classical world and, like Best, his love of partying is legendary
Now Sark’s working hard with ‘aerodynamics, ball-bearings and s***’, says Nigel. ‘He’s not shy of work and he’s going in a positive direction. In that respect he came out of prison unharmed. There could have been another eventuality but, as it is, it kind of helped him find a better direction. You always worry about your kids, don’t you? But I’m pleased he’s doing OK.’
Nigel’s father was a cellist who left his mother Scylla, a pianist, when she was pregnant with Nigel. She introduced him to the violin, and we talk about his new book Songs My Mother Never Taught Me, a compendium for beginners. His message? ‘It doesn’t matter if it’s a 70-year-old or a 12-year-old – it’s about everyone having a turn,’ he says.
Next month he will play at legendary jazz club Ronnie Scott’s, where he’s appeared since he was 14, and he says it’s always a thrill to perform at the iconic club. ‘Standing where Ella Fitzgerald stood means a lot to me,’ he says. He loves jazz as much as he loves Vivaldi. His own compositions, which he’ll play at Ronnie Scott’s, incorporate both, but it annoys him when people find that surprising. ‘I don’t get why people try to put us in boxes,’ he sighs. ‘We all have prejudices but it makes me angry it’s there in music. If we can’t be open-minded about music, how will we ever sort out the human race?’
- Nigel Kennedy Originals: Live at Ronnie Scott’s, 25-28 September. Songs My Mother Never Taught Me: For Violin And Piano is published by Chester Music in September.
