Jon was always very driven and very confident. Certainly on the outside. He was positive and outgoing — a good person to have at a party, a real character. He was very easy to talk to, a good listener, sensitive and passionate. We used to fight a lot — we'd wind each other up about the smallest details — though there was real respect there. But as it turned out, I obviously didn't know him as well as I thought.

I was 16 when I met Jon. We were both in bands in Newport, Wales, where we grew up. When I was 20, I moved to London. Jon moved down three years later, and we formed the band that became Feeder. We were young, we worked hard and made a lot of noise. We got our record deal when we were both 27.

In 1998 we spent a year touring the US. Jon met the woman he would marry, a Brazilian model called Tatiana, in Miami. The day after he met her, anyone could see he was totally in love. Within two years — just after she had their first child, Cameron — they got married. He was so happy. He bought a house in Miami and it all seemed to be working out for him.

Pressure can get to you in a million ways, and Jon could hide it well.

But travelling back and forward to Europe to be with the band was wearing him down. I could sense when he was finding it hard to be away from his family, or when he'd had an argument with his wife. It can be hard to sort out a problem when your wife is on the other side of the world. And when you've got children involved it's even more difficult. I knew how much Jon loved his kid.

In December 2001 we performed on a TV show. As soon as it finished, Jon took a taxi motorbike to the airport to catch a flight to Miami. He had all his Christmas presents with him and seemed really happy. I think he'd just found out that his wife was pregnant with their second child. That was the last time I saw him.

On January 7, around 6am, Jon's brother called, saying: "Jon's hung himself." It was horrendous. I found out later, from the police records, that he'd called me twice the night before. I'd been out having a pizza with a friend. It was just a normal evening. The first call I didn't answer because I didn't know it was from him — he wasn't calling from his mobile. The second time, he left a message, but I didn't check my messages until I got in and by then it was too late. It was along the lines of: "Hi, it's Jon, how's it going?" He didn't sound desperate. I found out later that he made this call 20 minutes before he hung himself.

I've tortured myself for not taking that call from Jon. That thought will always be there. But what could I have done? I don't know. And if he'd killed himself after I'd spoken to him, I'd have felt even worse. Maybe I wasn't meant to take the call.

The night Jon died, his wife was out and he was home, cooking dinner or something. The police report stated that he'd made a call to her that night, saying: "Come home, I need to talk to you."

I think any human being could put two and two together and work out it was his private life that was the problem. All I know is, he was madly in love, it probably wasn't working, and he found it hard to accept. It probably wasn't the first time he'd made that kind of call.

There are things I know, the gruesome details, which are horrendous. How he did it. How it looked. His body was flown back to England soon after. Me and Taka [Hirose], our bassist, went to see him. Seeing him dead made me believe what had happened, but it's taken a long time to come to terms with his death. He was so full of life, had a wife, a child, another on the way, parents he was close to, a brother who loved him. He was a popular guy. It wasn't like he didn't have anybody.

At first I couldn't sleep or do anything. I thought it was the end of the band. I didn't know if I could still write music, but I had to do something to take my mind off it. About six weeks after Jon died, I went into a recording studio. I worked so intensely the engineers thought I was having a breakdown. Then I played the stuff I'd done to Taka. He loved it, and we decided to give the band another go.

Today I think about the person Jon was and what we achieved. I'm just pleased he tasted a bit of that success before he died. He always believed in the band. If we had a bad review, he didn't care, but it still kills me. I take things a lot more personally. He always had faith.

Jon's death has made me more focused, more confident, maybe more grateful. It's also made me more sensitive. Horrible things happen to people all the time, but it's only when they happen to you that they change the way you feel. Such a heavy thing.

Feeder's new single, Shatter/Tender, is out tomorrow. They tour later this year