MR SCRUFF doesn’t look like a tropical explorer. He wears loose hip hop t-shirt instead of a gore-tex khaki, and has a neatly trimmed goatee in the place of a two-month beard.  However you could compare his record bag to a rack of exotically-sourced specimen tubes.

His tunes have enough airmiles on them to warrant an offset rainforest – and when pushed on his tastes, he expands: “I’m happy to play anything from rhumba, jazz, punk, house, Cuban, Panamanian, Colombian, Malian, Congolese, Egyptian, Ethiopian, because you never run out of tunes to play if you like world music.”

Mr Scruff’s specimens escape conventional classification –pigeonholes like “trip-hop” and “quirk” are woefully inadequate to describe a man who, as DJ and producer, introduces glorious flute solos to a hip-hop beat and takes his fans through seven-hour journeys through world music at his legendary Keep it Unreal nights.

The popularity of Mr Scruff –aka Andy Carthy – exploded with his 2002 album Trouser Jazz. Listeners had their breath baited by his seminal Get A Move On single, with its rolling brass section, beautifully unexpected snippet samples and a philosophy which everybody could relate to.

The song is now the darling of the ad men, sampled on Volvo adverts and cringe-worthy programmes across TV. “I love that tune, even if it does get played when David Dickinson is buying a pewter donkey on Bargain Hunt” he says. Carthy, who is now in his mid-30s, grew up in Stockport and quickly fell into the slipstream of nearby Manchester’s black music scene. “Growing up in a small place, I’ve always gravitated towards any other people who are into music. A lot of mates were into punk and The Cure as well as House music when it still wasn’t that popular. By the time I was going out and drinking, a lot of my mates were into hip-hop.

“I used to listen to John Peel and a lot of pirate radio stations in Manchester which had specialist shows. The most publicised sound to come out of Manchester has been Joy Division and the Smiths. But in the late 80s, there was a whole lot of other stuff, like Greg Wilson [Manchester’s first electro DJ] and breakdancing crew Broken Glass.

“There was a lot more than just the Factory records scene going on in Manchester, through club nights and pirate radio, with a lot of local labels putting out music. It continues to be a very fruitful music scene. Back then,Colin Curtis was one of my heroes, who used to play in clubs like Berlin.” Not just a music man, Carthy blends tea with his Make Us A Brew tea company, which is posh enough to retail in shops like Selfridges. He also draws visuals for his music videos and club nights and creates all his album art work.

Through the course of our chat, I get the impression of a focused, highly-driven individual. His tendency to view things all too seriously could be seen as humourless if it were not for the lively, cheeky counterpoint of his work. Asked if, from his globalstand point, some British artists were too narrow-minded, he counters: “It’s difficult to generalise. I personally love going to specialist nights. Sometimes you have to go to something very specialized to get the best music. I listen very carefully at those nights and pick the best for me.

“I don’t think artists are too narrow minded – it’s important to represent your own personality. In terms of ‘world music’, I find the term very misleading. There are a hundred terms for genres of African music but its all viewed as just ‘African’. At the moment, I love an artist called Bassekou Kouyate (a Malian player of the ngoni instrument). He had an album out two years ago which was amazing.”

Last October, Carthy put out a fresh album called Ninja Tuna,(on his confusingly titled label Ninja Tune), which he is using as a chance to release a lot of material after a prolonged period of absence. Containing tracks by Roots Manuva and Quantic’s Alice Russell, the LP has had hugely positive reviews for its combination of varied live instrumentals (there is a jazz focus here) and layered beats.

Carthy is as well known for his prolific DJing as for his beatmaking– and the passion shines through.It seems the art of making people dance in a live setting never loses its euphoria for him, especially, as he never plans a set but knows his material well enough to improvise.

And that’s the feeling you get – that Carthy’s off-the-cuff isn’t down so much as to inexplicable moments of inspiration as to “hours spent on your knees in charity shops”. And that his cheeky aesthetic is in part a reflection of himself and part the work of a formidable engine – a defining passion which drives him beyond the next man.

It’s something sacred, as he shows when asked for advice forthe budding soundman: “Tips? You can’t advise someone on howto explore their obsession.”

Got something constructive to say?