There’s a small meet up in my town, called "Coffee With A Cop," in which bootlickers can sit down with fascists and discuss things that affect the community, like how to reduce the amount of paraplegic black teens who were accidentally mistaken for an armed gunman. It’s a good way for the average citizen to be able to shoot the shit with a cop. So, I went and had a discussion with one of them and here’s how it went...
"Well, in my line of work, every day could be our last. We’re essential to the community, but most folks hate us. They call us sellouts, accuse us of relying on stereotypes and prejudice to do our job, claim that we’re all unqualified and power-hungry... shit, sometimes they even accuse us of stealing drugs and money. This is a thankless line of work, that only gets harder and harder with each year that passes. Plus, we have a ton of new blood, that can’t navigate without their cell phones and don’t know the difference between 65 and 100 on their dashboard. Anyways, what’s it like to be a cop?" He didn’t reply, so I kept on...
Aside from acting as a filter—in terms of what music does and does not make it into nightclub rotation—a good DJ is also responsible for blending, mixing and ordering an often on-the-fly playlist of songs, many of which have little to nothing in common. Often times, you can’t "read the crowd" in the traditional sense, so the crowd ends up reading you—"does this guy have the stones to play Tyga at a wedding? Let’s find out." For example, I did a private gig for medical school students, ages 19 to 65, with incomes ranging from "free clinic desk clerk" to "cancer ninja." The theme was "Outdoor Adventure" and it was held indoors, in a large ballroom above another event for an old person gang (Elks or something like that). When I opened up the floor to requests, literally every person wanted something radically different—one request for Shania Twain, another for dirty rap, followed by a demand from a drunk girl for ‘80s and then her clearly-thedesignated- driver date insisting on "swing dance-ish electronica." There is no Spotify playlist in the world that can cater to this group of savages.
So, what do you do? Learn the tempos for songs, keep a log (some software will do this for you automatically) and hope that you can find seven genres worth of music that falls into the 110- 115 BPM range. Pretend that you "just don’t have" (insert Soulja Boy song here) and internet service is bad in the $1,000-per-hour venue for some fucking reason. Embrace ska if you have to, but learn to say "no" with a smile, when it comes to Smash Mouth. Your job is to please the majority of the crowd and make it look like I meant to blend "Any Man Of Mine" with "A Bitch Is A Bitch." Oh, and this is usually when the father/husband/brother of the girl who asked for dirty rap comes up and tells you that you’re really pushing it by playing stuff with bad words. As Lincoln once said, "You can please some of the people some of the time, but usually that requires playing Journey at full volume and driving away the only black people that showed up."
While technology has all but outpaced civilization—in terms of making damn near anything possible for users who have an I.Q. above freezing— the "analog-versus-digital" argument has taken a special interest in music. Whether we’re talking about Metallica and U2 suing their own fans for Napstering their music (and, then, years later, not even being able to give their own music away for free...oh, the irony), or the "everyone is a beat maker" era of FruityLoops-inspired producers, music geeks are anything but in agreement, when it comes to the role of digital tech infesting analog skills.
This brings us to the "vinyl-versus-laptop" DJ argument, which I’ve covered before and will summarize as follows: when a drunk patron comes up to you with free drugs and/or a wad of cash, insisting that you play a specific remix of a brand-new song right now, and pounds his fists down on the table that your equipment is on, please explain to me how your six crates of fragile, bendy discs are going to be of use. This is where the pro-laptop argument comes in. "Sure, Chad, I got your Chris Brown up next. Give me that tip and have a great night!" On the other end, if you are using a laptop or software of some sort, you have no excuse, at all, to not be up-to-speed on beat matching, juggling and all that fun stuff. A bad laptop DJ is the worst kind of DJ, as they have everything they need to hone their skills, right there in the browser window search tab.
So, to summarize, a DJ with a physical mixer and a digital collection is, without argument, the ideal one for your club. But, right now, some asshat who works community radio in his 40s is reading this and writing a misspelled, cocaine-covered letter right now, in between spinning crusty Elliot Smith records for free. This guy not only exists, but he is still delusional and thinks that real DJs only use vinyl. Sure, he’s in some weird poly relationship with a gender-neutral vegan who trades Bitcoin for cannabis stocks, but goddamnit, he’s a man of tradition and won’t be roped into this neo-liberal Virtual DJ nonsense. This is the DJ equivalent of Stevie Ray Vaughn Guy Who Works At Guitar Center or Drummer Who Always Brings Up Rush—if you’ve ever been in a band, you know exactly how these guys feel about "kids these days." Fuck them and fuck their Woodstock stories (they didn’t actually go, by the way).
Aside from strip clubs, rare pizza places that host drag shows and weddings— which require actual planning, orchestration, microphone skills and renting something other than three subs and a tweeter—most DJ gigs at bars and nightclubs these days are sought after by scabs and amateurs, who will run their Pandora playlist for two drink tickets and some Red Bull swag. Plus, the gigs are often paid for by people who don’t understand why it "costs so much just to have someone play songs from their laptop." This makes charging any more than minimum wage for your skills somewhat of a chore. Sure, you can do a free gig or two, impress the bar staff and land a paid slot, but then you’ll be asked to justify the pay. "How much of a crowd can you bring?" Well, if I had a huge following of loyal fans, do you think I’d be trying to start an ‘80s Night at Bob’s Pub & Grub? "Can you promote the event online?" Sure, because Facebook algorithms are totally catered toward that sort of thing and "Hey, come to my DJ night" isn’t already a burnt-out phrase. "The show starts at 9pm. Can you be there by 5pm to set up?" Yup. And, I’ll wait in the parking lot until 8:45pm or so, when the opening bartender finally arrives for her shift, hungover and without any idea that we were doing a DJ night. "Do you have your own equipment?" By that, I assume you mean speakers, cords, four walls, a bar well, a portable stage, lighting and a fog machine?
Yes. And, the six regulars who were actually informed of the show will love the whole setup.
Now, this may be somewhat of an aside, but it applies to all gigs that are tangentially related to entertainment— the phrases "can you bring a crowd?" and "do you have a following?" are gigantic red flags. If you hear them, run. These questions translate into the following: "We have no regular clientele, so we must rely on importing a customer base from the talent we hire. Our shitty bartenders, bad food and nasty reputation for inconsistent service have driven everyone away, which is why we’d love to pass this vibe onto the group of people who supposedly rely on your skills and talent to provide them with a good time." This is always a lose-lose situation—even if you do end up packing the bar or club with friends and fans, they’ll be subject to an under- staffed nightmare, that includes all the shitty bells and broken whistles that drove out the regulars in the first place. Put simply, a good bar or nightclub should have a consistent crowd and your job, as an entertainer, is to help retain that crowd, while helping it grow. Do you promote the gig? Of course. But, that’s a bonus—the best gigs I’ve attended were supported by my friends because they were good gigs, not just because I was there. This goes for bartenders, house bands and anyone who is suspiciously offered a weekend slot, immediately upon contacting a bar—any "following" you have is a perk, not a requirement. Imagine if a medical assistant applying for a gig at a hospital was asked, "So, how many sick people can you bring us?" Same shit applies to any other skill.
Remember those old school DJs I was bashing a few paragraphs up? Well, back in their day, they did have a purpose. From radio DJs to house party hosts, original disc jockeys were crate-diggers—seekers of undiscovered music, who would enthusiastically introduce new bands to dance floors. And, for a while, this worked. Pretty much anything on MTV in the early ‘90s was a result of the underground rising up. This is how Nine Inch Nails, Pharcyde, MC 900 Foot Jesus and Ween made it onto the airwaves. But, alas, all good trends come to an end and the "alternative" genre now includes such hard-to-discover acts as Slipknot and Nickelback. Is there good shit coming out of the underground? You bet your ass there is! But, unlike strip clubs, Lyrics Born and Beatnuts don’t really fly on "Hip Hop" Night (quotes emphasized). The crowd demands Lil’ Ratchet$ and Kid Uzifacez. Do I like Cardi B? Fuck no. Do I spin Cardi B? Every...goddamn...gig.
Even at genre-specific nights that cater exclusively (and, often literally) to the underground, such as "goth night" events, it’s all about what the younger kids think is cool. When I DJ at the spooky kid events, Skinny Puppy gets about 1/8th of the people on the dance floor as Combichrist does, which is not only criminal, but more depressing than anything either band has written. I’ve attended EDM festivals that feature the world’s "best electronic DJs," but somehow, they all ended up playing the same Deadmaus and Kid Cudi remixes. We’re talking thousands of crowd members, high as shit on molly, ready to absorb new music and DJ Famousguy Supermixxx playing...Sandstorm? It’s tough to push new stuff on a crowd of selfproclaimed outcasts and free thinkers— go ahead and try introducing a drunk mob of college students at the bar, to anything that doesn’t feature Drake or a remix by that fat dude with the beard, who isn’t actually a DJ, but just screams his name at the beginning of the track.
You can make a lot of money as a DJ. Or, you can make it your passion. But, you can’t do both, at least not without embracing the worst elements of lowest-common-denominator consumerism, alcohol glorification, hookup culture and Rihanna (sorry, she’s more overrated than Lenny Kravitz). If you’re looking to have fun, you’re gonna have a bad time. But, even I just wrapped up mixing "Pour It Up" with "Umbrella," because I do have a price—$100 per piece of soul, er...excuse me, hour.
