Three and three quarter hours and one toilet break
First the grumble, the only one, to the random blonde who came up to me and told me not to be “One of those wanker DJ’s suffering for his art” because I said I’d ‘try’ to play a record that I’d played two hours previously, I even helped her work out which one it was, she said “You played the Flute Song by Rae and Christian earlier” it was Rose Rouge by Paris St Germain. How nice am I?
Here’s the science blondie.
The decks went on at 8, people were talking and catching up and easing their way into the evening. I’m not suffering any art; I’m playing records in order to try and make your night a bit better than it would have been if I hadn’t been there. Silence is golden, but at a party it’s really rather shit. Early on, to get people in the mood, there was a little funk, a bit of hip-hop and few Neptunes productions – if you’re going to play Britney, play good Britney. My only indulgence is the odd, very subtle, joke or comment – Justin Timberlake into Britney, or dropping the Porn Kings because it’s a record me and Simon used to hear at Skint on Fridays. As the drinks flowed, people loosened up, the tempo increased through Daft Punk and Ian Pooley – nothing boshy because people were chatting and having a good time. From here you work to a peak that coincides with people entering the enjoyable part of being drunk. This peak goes on for about half an hour; it’s not the point at which you just play a record that’s as laid back as the one you wanted. That’s why it sounded so bad, y’idiot. After that people begin to get too drunk and the functions of their brains slow. So you drop a gear, and finally you’re back to where you were – recognisable and safe pop songs to send people on there way home. It’s not just thrown together you know. I hope you had a good party, enjoying the company of your friends, the venue, the drink and the music. Thanks for calling me a wanker.
For more information, read How To DJ Properly by Bill Brewster and Frank Broughton.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Graham Spankee, and Yipee Dave were going to join me in rotating half hour stints on the wheels of steel, but as joint hosts of the birthday party there was always a chance that my stints would be longer. I hadn’t expected three and three quarter hours (and one toilet break).
Nobody had requests with the exception of blondie, a sign, perhaps that I got it right. It felt right, and I had so much fun getting it right. What’s more, I still got to join in, though if you did talk to me; sorry I cut you off and ran over to my decks every 6 and a half minutes. And happy birthday Graham and Yipee Dave.
For no other reason than my own curiosity and vanity, and this is a vanity site so let’s talk about me a bit more, you can find a rough approximation of the whole set here.
Post a Comment