FOR more than three decades, the sound of music, laughter and raw teenage energy has pulsed through the walls of Livewire in Saltash.

At the heart of it all is one man – Andy Rance – who, for 35 years, has dedicated his life to building a safe haven for young people. Against the odds, he has transformed what was once a crumbling boys’ club on the Waterside into a thriving charity that has helped thousands navigate some of the toughest moments of their lives.

It all began with seemingly a casual comment. “At the time I was working with a homeless project in Liskeard, Caradon Housing Youth Project, and also doing some youth work in a local church,” Andy recalls. “One evening, an area youth worker said to me there’s a little youth club on the Waterside, [not a lot] there, don’t get volunteers and they might have to close, so I said I would have a look.”

When Andy arrived, the scene was bleak: “TV with no picture, a snooker table with a massive crack in it. But I fell in love with the place and I fell in love with the young people – this was 1990. They had nothing, but they were brilliant, amazing young people.”

That love affair with Livewire – and with the youth of Saltash – has lasted ever since. In 1997, a full-time job became available to run the club. Andy applied, got the position, and never looked back.

“Thirty-five years,” he says, smiling. “Best 35 years of my life.”

The early days were about survival – keeping the doors open, providing warmth and offering teenagers a place where they felt they belonged. Historically known as the “boys’ club,” the space often attracted those dismissed as “problem kids.” Andy saw things differently.

“Thing is with youth work, I have seen miracles happen where a young person that is so damaged transforms their lives,” he explains. “If you go from ‘I want to die’ to that point where you see the change, it’s brilliant. I’ve seen countless people transform into that awesome and amazing person they always should have been.”

But Andy knew the youth club needed more than just a roof and good intentions. Armed with a clipboard and blank sheets of paper, he began walking around Saltash, asking young people what they wanted. The answer was clear: music.

“I got some dosh from Mick Jagger, Phil Collins, Pete Townsend, other people,” he recalls with a grin. “We created our first small studio and because this was the 90s, DJing was big, so it kind of grew from there. Music became the absolute focus.

“Yes, we still do youth work, not everyone comes for music, lots come to see their mates or because they are having a hard time. Music gave us our heartbeat.”

From those humble beginnings, Livewire grew into a professional-standard venue and recording studio. Over the years, thousands of young people have picked up guitars, sat behind drum kits, stepped into vocal booths and discovered not just a love for music but also a way to express emotions they couldn’t put into words.

“I always say this,” Andy added. “Music is the last magic left in this world. Where does it come from? It’s how people would pass on information in its earliest form – a natural progression. You can pour your heart out in songs.”

But youth work is never without its heartbreak. For Andy, the toughest moment came in 2018 when the Livewire community lost Ed, a much-loved young man he had worked with closely.

“A beautiful young man and I still see his smile walking through the venue,” Andy says softly. “I worked with him one-to-one for over a year on his struggles. Sadly, he took his life. I went through an awful lot of guilt and my own issues over that.”

Andy drove across Devon and Cornwall to break the devastating news to Ed’s friends in person. However, the grief took its toll. “By Christmas I was broken,” Andy admits. “It was the closest I’ve come to saying I couldn’t do this job.”

But even in the darkest moment, Livewire found a new direction. “One of his friends said to me, you have to think of the young people who haven’t [taken their lives] because of the work you do. It was a hard lesson, but from that point everything changed.”

That moment inspired Andy to establish Livewire’s counselling services. He was determined that no young person would face long waiting lists at their lowest point.

Since then, Livewire has provided counselling and one-to-one support for between 600 and 800 young people, in addition to countless casual drop-ins. During the pandemic, the team pivoted within 24 hours, moving sessions and music lessons online, ensuring that support never stopped.

Andy has raised more than £2-million over the years to keep Livewire alive, averaging between £180,000 and £200,000 annually – “peanuts in business terms,” he jokes, “but relentless when you have to constantly do it.”

There have been times when locals weren’t sure what to make of him. “When I first started, locals called me the ‘Cockney b*****d who’s killed the Boys’ Club,’ that was my tag. Five years later, one came up and called me the ‘Cockney Cornish.’ I said, ‘you’ve dropped the b*****d.’ I like to think after all this time I’m now considered an honorary Watersider, and when I die, I’ll get a bench with my name on it.”

But despite the obstacles, the rewards have been immeasurable. “The alumni event a year or so ago was one of the most emotional weekends I’ve had. To me that sums up what Livewire is all about.”

There have been moments of personal salvation too. “I’d say this place, the young people, have kept me alive on more than one occasion.”

As Andy reflects on the future, the question of succession looms large. “I’ve been saying for years I am getting old – and I am old. Two years ago, I started talking to trustees about thinking about the future. I always said I’d keep going until the end, but this year it became more pressing.”

To secure Livewire’s future, Andy has brought in 27-year-old Joe Day as apprentice youth work lead.

“He’s a musician, he understands how we work here, and he’s lived it. It’s daunting, especially when you’ve held a baby for 35 years, letting go is scary, but I know I have to. Joe told me he was nervous, and I said, ‘Good – if you weren’t, I’d be nervous.’”

For Andy, the future of Livewire is not just about buildings, funding or even music. It’s about resilience. “I want young people who are resilient. Life is like that – you fall off a bike and you have two choices: stay on the ground or get back up. Eventually it becomes natural. That’s what I want for them.”

From a cracked snooker table to a cutting-edge music venue and counselling service, Livewire’s journey mirrors Andy’s own – resilient, evolving and utterly rooted in love for the young people it serves.

“This isn’t just a job,” he says. “Never has been.”

And for thousands of young people who have walked through Livewire’s doors, Andy has been more than a youth worker. He has been a mentor, a counsellor, a fundraiser, a cheerleader, and sometimes even a lifesaver.

If music really is the last magic left in the world, then in Saltash, Andy has been its magician-in-chief – creating not just songs, but second chances.