“I could go on about the rights and wrongs of the political system in this country all day long, but what I will say is that it has let down this country’s young people. And the politicians, all of them, should be ashamed. They should invest in the youth and let them create the future. The more we keep looking at this country through rose-tinted spectacles, the less of a chance there is for the country’s youth to take the situation we’re in and manipulate it for themselves. With these constantly occurring global hiccups that capitalism keeps putting in our path every five to six years, this crisis, that crisis, whatever, what always happens is that the rich never lose.”

The smile is still there, though gently triumphant these days, while age has neither wearied nor condemned him. Look closely enough and he’s still that 19-year-old who strode out on the Wembley stage on 13th July 1985 to give The Style Council its backbeat for a television audience of two billion. That was Live Aid, some 40 years ago, a Geldofian experience he book-ended in 2005 when he bossed the kit for The Who at Live 8 in Hyde Park.

Steve White is a survivor, taking the highs and the lows of the music business in his stride. In person he is an oasis of calm, a state in marked contrast to when conducting his talking drums on stage, mind and body purring in one ceaseless flow of energy.

The intervening 40 years have been interesting, to put it mildly, yet there is a certain type of musician able to weather the peaks and troughs of an extended career, in this particular case a career replete with sonic moonshots and rimshots. The maelstrom of the modern world does not impede his creative drive. He has learned to walk on, to ignore the madness that is not of his making. “Right now I’m feeling very positive. I’m not unaware of what’s going on, believe me, I don’t bury my head in the sand and not see the crazy state of the world. It bothers me a lot, but I’ve learned that I can change what I can change, and the rest of it I have to switch off from to pursue my destiny, in terms of music. And right now I’m in the middle of an amazing purple patch.”

A new album, Soul Drums (Steve White Trio, Acid Jazz Records) has arrived, along with a UK tour, as the pivot for a rich body of work. “It all started last year with the reissue of a lot of Style Council stuff, and it was lovely to start the year off with the bones of that release to discover the re-evaluation and love and appreciation for the band. I then played on two tracks of the new Squeeze album [Trixies] which came out in early March. That was a real high for me because I’ve always adored Squeeze. They were the band that gave me my first real professional break all those many decades ago, so to be on their new album 45 years later was a string to my bow. I was chuffed about that.”

He has also played for Terry Shaughnessy’s project – Earth-o-Naut (Agogo Records) with what Steve says is some of the “most soulful and confident drumming” he has committed to tape for many a year – followed by a contribution to Lucca Mae’s debut album The Truth Is, Aziz Ibrahim’s long-awaited LP Lahore to Longsight, and something unique from Phil Daniels that will be arriving before the year is out. “With Chris Hague and Joel White, at Fox Den Studios in Sheffield, we cut 11 tracks in one day with Phil. I loved it. It reminded me of the sessions I did with Ian Dury at Liquidator Studios on the Caledonian Road, where Madness used to record, and where I did an album with Ian called Apples (1989). With Phil, his new record has the same sort of spirit, the same feel of Ian Dury… very whimsical, very British.”

Also coming at the tail end of 2026 is a super-deluxe anthology of songs recorded by The Family Silver. “This year will have me, all told, contributing to about 170 pieces of new music.” A new drumming book, co-authored with Russ Tarley, is also due for publication. “I can’t complain. I just think the heavens have aligned for me.”

Out of a divided country, London, in the fast grip of a series of permacrises, still rises sheer. From a distance, a collection of so many mountainous steel and glass peaks teetering, thrusting against the sky for a better view of our benighted isles. Yet Steve, whose endeavours have made him an ornament of his country, seems singularly able to bring up a rose-fingered dawn on a landscape grown barren after decades of maltreatment by the corporations.

“I see drumming now as being absolutely integral to every part of my mental and physical health. I practise to make a cardiovascular difference to my body. And it works. Obviously, trying to learn and try new things, even though I’m going to be 61 this year, has never diminished. I had some years when I was struggling with a few injuries which I thought might mean me accepting that I’d had a good long run… but I wanted to give it one last shot, so I went to an acupuncturist who told me I was fine, that we’d work on it. Through good advice, my health was restored. So I’m grateful. For everything. I’m determined that while things are still ticking along in the right way I’m going to make the bloody most of it.”

Was he ever concerned about taking himself out of the music game? “If you do that you’d probably never get it back. Music has to be a constant. I don’t profess to be as interested or affected by the machinations of the business as I once was. But I still love music. That’s the difference. I still listen to and consume vast amounts of music every day. With regards to the business side of it, yeah, it has changed, but from a musician’s point of view it remains essential to pick up your instrument every single day because it’s a matter of use it or lose it. It’s more important as you get older. I’ve never walked away or put aside the drums.” Not even during lockdown? “Especially not then. Lockdown was more intense because I was teaching online, which I hated because I found it really depressing, but I found that time useful because I was reacquainting myself with drumming techniques, studying fundamental books about technique. It ended up being a productive time as I wrote my book Match Fit Hands. It was at this point, too, that my wife Sally [Lindsay] got commissioned with her new TV show, The Madame Blanc Mysteries, so was able to commission myself and Chris [Hague] to create the show’s soundtrack. Five series later we’re still doing it. The way time seems to fly by is amazing. It’s daunting at times, realising that, but what else can you do? You just get on with it and try to remain as positive and as creative as you can.”

Steve has four children, ranging from 16 to 32 in age. “My young sons’ friends are amazing people. The talent is there. The youth are our most valuable asset and so inspirational. The next generation must be allowed to rebuild because the system in this country has conspired to divide. We need to draw a line under the past and somehow, some way call for a complete revision of our political system. PMQs for starters… that nonsense of people shouting at each other. It’s pathetic. We need to start looking at fresh ideas. People have to look inwards, to themselves now for governance because no one political party can help, certainly not for the next decade. I mean, if I’m not hopeful for these youngsters, then I’ve given up, haven’t I. So you have to trust in the youth.”

Having turned 60, he finds himself in a more contemplative, reflective mood. “I remember my own dad’s 60^th birthday. I got him a Charlton Athletic shirt signed by all the team. And now here I am, the same age. I mean, there have been a lot of funerals recently, and that has kind of knocked my every-day demeanor. But that’s the circle of life… I lost my dad two years ago, but I believe I was a good son. This is my legacy. To honour him. I did my best to let him know how much he meant to me, what he gave me as a young drummer and, in those final weeks with him, I just wanted to step up to the mark and show my respect.”

To tired eyes, to one who has watched the dimming of the old city’s creative light, Whitey remains an exemplar of all that is still possible – a good man of true grit who is able to link the past, present and future. “My mum has been able to tell our younger children about Britain in the 1940s and ’50s, and they love hearing about it. We try and make sure she is a part of our family fabric as much as we can. I learned from them both, my mum and dad, about how I want to be as a parent and a grandparent. From them I learned some real lessons and lines in the sand. Both my parents were amazingly supportive of me and of the path I took. They were a blessing. I couldn’t have done it without them.”

Words & picture: Jason Holmes / @JasonAHolmes