not exactly the same- but this is close... Imagine your the promoter for the biggest nightclub in the city. Now imagine that on a particular night, your headline DJ, who had asked to play from open to close, calls to tell you he's going to be an hour late. No big deal you say, since no one is ever there for the first hour. In fact, you don't even want to bother finding an opening dj since you know it will be that slow, and instead you and your partner (neither of whom can dj) decide to just play some chill records for the first little bit.
So, come opening time, the two of you begin playing some odd minimal slow bleep stuff, fading out one while the next fades in. YOu haven't had time to go home and get your records, so you're just randomly picking from the handfull your partner had in his car. This goes fine for about 30 minutes, then 45 minutes, then an hour, then an hour 15... crap didn't the DJ say he would only be an hour late? now people are starting to filter in. They fill up the seats around the dancefloor first, before slowly beginning to stand in groups facing in your direction. you can tell people are starting to get antsy, so you speed up the tempo a hair and try to perform a mix... failure! your partner decides he better run down stairs and start calliing real djs as the crowd is starting to boo and and occasionally yell things. Alone, with a pile of records you don't know and no dicernable dj skills, you begin to panic. You grab a copy of Speedy J's Public Energy #1 and put on "As the Bubble Expands." As it's grating tabla screech fills the room, you see some of your customers beeline for the door. Others are now openly hostile and yelling obcenities. Your partner comes running into the booth, yelling at you to "play something dancable stupid!" you reply that these are all his records, and "there is nothing dancable, stupid!" several tense minutes later, the headlining DJ shows up, only two hours late. YOu breath a sigh of relief as he walks into the booth. You fade out one last records and fade in the next, trying to act like everything is under control. He leans over and asks... "What's up with the sound system tonight?" You reply, "I dunno, does it sound bad?" At that point, the DJ reaches past you to the mixer (a Pioneer DJM-900) and hits off the blinking effects button in the lower right hand corner. How long has that been on? An hour? Two hours? Wow- now you can actually start to hear the music. You decide it;s time to leave things to the professionals, slink quietly out the back door and go get plastered at the bar down the street. On Sat, 27 Nov 2004 [EMAIL PROTECTED] wrote: > > > > > You're sitting at home with the wife (or significant other, could be a cat > as well if you are single and not "involved") eating dinner and about to > pop a movie in the player when you get a phone call. > It's the guys who run the local techno/dance night in the biggest room in > the city. > They want you to play > > > Tonight. > > Can you be there in an hour? > > You have nothing in your record bags and, in fact, haven't even * touched* > your decks in at least two weeks - except to put on some folky indie rock > stuff you bought the other day (or some weird experimental thing - just as > long as the record has no bpm count to speak of) > > You weigh the situation - you haven't played the big room ever and they're > offering you two hours (start at 9pm). > "Hmmm," you think, "could help get open the door to some more gigs and get > me out of this techno slump." > > You tell them yes (how bad could it be). > > So you pull your record boxes apart trying to remember where you put those > "one records you've been wanting to play out". > You shove about four hours worth of records into two bags because you have > no clue what you're going to do - or even start with. > You leave - go to cash machine - go over to friend's flat as quickly as > possible to see if he wants to get in for free by carrying a bag - get in > car - find parking and walk two blocks to club. All in about a half-hour. > > You finally get into to the club, take off coat, frantically try to find > screw-on adapter for headphone jack, pull it off other headphones, get on > the decks and throw on a record that for some reason sounds slower at home > (even with the pitch zeroed out). In a confused and hurried manner look for > follow-up record, etc. > You proceed, limping through a half hour to forty five minutes of getting > your bearings on someone else's mixer/decks/soundsystem in the big room. > Several pairs of trainers in the wash later you turn around to see your > name up on the screen behind you. Luckily (?) they misspell it. > > Then you've had enough and kill the deck and start over again. With a > slightly more ambient track - that plays for the entire side of the 12". > The second half of your set is better. By the time you're finally getting > into it and figuring out what records you have to work with your time is > up. > They thank you for coming down and filling in (covering some mix-up in > opening times) - then one of them gives you $20.00. > You leave the club rather disappointed with yourself, partly bothered by > the offer being dangled in front of you on such a short notice, and partly > happy that you've got an extra $20 to spend. > > Then drive back home and watch movie until you fall asleep on the couch. > > Anybody have something like that happen? Please share. I'd like to know > that on this Saturday night I was not alone. ;) > > MEK > >
