DJ Stylus – The Vibe Conductor

Another entry in an ongoing series about the realities, challenges and tactics of spinning records in public for pay…

And now, the smash follow-up to episode 1!

A reminder not to always judge a book by its cover.

F**k breakfast, get money.

This is 100% true, 100% of the time.

#everyoneisaDJ

I’ve done this before and no, sir, it’s not a little thing. It’s the type of thing that keeps your soul from dying.

It wasn’t even a smartphone.

*fist pump*

BONUS TRACK:

They missed most of the classics that will never die, but presented some of the others that I’m less familiar with because of the younger/druggier/bro-steppier demographic. I have gotten the “play something more ghetto” one many times.

Another entry in an ongoing series about the realities, challenges and tactics of spinning records in public for pay…

…wherein I give you an insider perspective into the observations of the people laboring skillfully to make sure you have a fun night on the town.

Shrewd cost/benefit analysis.

Happens all the time.

a.k.a. the CTRL-ALT-DEL move.

File under “aspirational”, “#firstworldproblems“, “integrity” and “perspective”.

Gulf of understanding ever widening. See next tweet.

Planned Obsolescence: The Extinction Agenda.

Focused marketing campaign + high nicotine content = addicted Negroes. Still racist though.

I went. I saw. I overindulged on food trucks. I also survived several nights of this:

It was my first time, and with all things late pass related, the prevailing wisdom is that the best days have passed, despite SXSW 2011 being the most attended in all of the event’s 25 years. Assessments of shark jumping are usually based on the indie spirit giving way to mainstream tastes and corporate control. Or in the words of the homie Phonte:

I can dig it. Kanye threw a massive, “secret” concert on Chevrolet’s dime, Pepsi turned an entire city block into a brand awareness playground and I drank gallons of free Miller Lite. But there were still weirdos who would never have any connection to sponsorship or a record label playing in every nook and cranny of the city. And a festival that started out focused on rock music has gradually been making space for hip-hop as well as DJs and electronica. Regarding how the music game has collapsed changed, the genie can’t go back into the bottle. But if one is looking for a new business model, SXSW may hold some clues.

I also must add that for an event of its size, SXSW was very well run. Being an official showcase artist resulted in some great perks. (thanks, Senari!)

If you’re not familiar with my WMC exploits, SXSW is similar, where one must maintain a breakneck pace to keep up with all the fun to be had and talent to be discovered. Since my rookie status required me to acclimate, I didn’t go as hard as I should have. So this roll call is of Artists I Regret Missing Whom You Should Definitely Support:

The Adrian Younge Black Dynamite Sound Orchestra
Andreya Triana
Belleruche
Chromeo
Matt And Kim
Homeboy Sandman
Los Rakas
Tanya Morgan

As WaPo’s Chris Richards smartly noted:

…in 2011, you don’t go to SXSW to discover your new favorite bands. You go to see if they can do justice to the MP3s you’ve been gorging on all winter.

So I did end up seeing artists I’ve seen before and had long since been stanning for. Missing new folks in order to see Kokayi, Black Milk, Quadron, J*DaVeY and Little Dragon deliver exceptional sets in Austin was worthwhile and scratched my fanboy itch.

But I’d be remiss to travel all the way to Texas to only see folks I already like. The best experience I had seeing someone for the first time was an intimate, front porch performance by Meklit Hadero at an Ethiopian restaurant in East Austin. Her mix of jazz and folk was the perfect set of nuances and depth to balance out the frenzy of everything else happening during the week.

As noted above, DJ’s are gradually infiltrating SXSW. I didn’t get to check out nearly as many as I would have liked, which meant not enough dancing to balance out standing around and watching shows. DJ Jaycee‘s set at the Two Sevens Clash really stuck out for me. I missed DJ Nu-Mark, who was superb from what I heard. But ATL’s own Jaycee told a seamless and funky story with the contents of his 45 case. Very classy, and also my first time seeing him spin.

Also notable was witnessing Cousin Cole, Tameil and Tim Dolla demolish shit at the Baltimore Love Thing. I pretty much abandoned B-more Club once the hipsters latched onto it years ago but observing some masters put it down made me consider re-introducing club to my arsenal.

Other DJ nerd highlights included DJ Yoda‘s live video mixing showcase…

DJ Yoda “Stop Look & Listen” from DJ Yoda on Vimeo.

…and a couple demos from DJ Big Wiz at the Serato booth. Learned a lot very quickly about The Bridge, Video-SL and adding MIDI controllers to your rig from a cat whose chops I’ve been studying for a number of years. I’m proud of myself for not shoplifting that SL4.

As for my actual SXSW gig, it started out slowly with the Sol Power All-Stars rocking to a scarce but appreciative group of early birds, and ended with Nadastrom on some punk rock shit throwing beer, breaking things and setting off mosh pits. In between I was most impressed by DJ Sabo and Toy Selectah. Definitely looking forward to rocking with all those dudes again.

Enjoyed it.

Wrote about it.

In concert: Black Milk at U Street Music Hall – Washington Post Click Track blog

Shoutout to the homie Kokayi who just got back from rocking Paris with Pharoahe Monch and Jean Grae, ably assisted by DC fam Zo!, Jon Laine, Ezra, naturalaw-dp, and Quartermaine.

Seems like a fitting time to share a rare joint I often reach for when on my Kokayi stannery soapbox.

This live recording of Joni Mitchell’s “Free Man In Paris” features Vinia Mojica and Kokayi, when the latter was touring and recording with Andy Milne.

Yes, that Vinia. The “Saturdays/Verses From the Abstract/Climb” Vinia. The original Native Tongue vocal sweetheart Vinia.

*sigh*

*swoon*

Koke did an album for her that never saw the light of day. I wish I could have caught those rare gigs they did together.

Oh well.

And now, the O.G., because it’s amazeballs. Word to Jaco Pastorius.

Re: Phife’s breakdown, it made me emotional to think about some dudes not even out of their teens going on to have such a huge impact on music and on so many lives, like mine.

In the pantheon of popular music, it’s common for groups to reach amazing heights then develop so much internal rancor that they could come to blows, yet still have love for each other, or at least be able to still work together. As messy as the inside view of them must be based on reviews I’ve read, it’s nothing we haven’t seen before. Check Fleetwood Mac for a serious beef/longevity cycle.

I can also understand Tip as the tortured artist, as cliché as that sounds. It’s easy to develop a myopic view of how you’re perceived when you live in your head all the time, and it’s a weird place that great art springs out of as a side effect. I bet for all he’s accomplished, he might have a loud little hater that won’t shut up, like so many of us creatives.

Ultimately though… Phife’s mom. Can’t beat that wisdom.

“You better go and enjoy this, because it’s something that doesn’t happen every day. It’s a movie about your guys’ life and your music and your legacy. The least you could do is enjoy it.”

The world loves these guys and they worked hard for it. I wish they’d smell their flowers while they still can. I bet Phife’s flirtation with death influences his perspective.

A bourgie around-the-way girl intellectual friend who retains a taste for the ‘hood and overthinks music as much as I do passed on an essay deconstructing the popularity of Rick Ross’ “B.M.F. (Blowing Money Fast)” among those who should know better. “But it’s just good, ignorant Negroidian fun,” my friend countered. I can relate, as I’m prone to enjoy a brilliant robbery anthem from time to time, even though I’m no fan of actual robberies. Then I came across an amusing B.M.F. YouTube spoof.

The only thing the original and the parody have in common is they underscored how puzzled I am about the song’s huge appeal.

Yes, I know that you know that I’m no Rozay fan. But in order to slow my descent into fogey-dom, I did give Teflon Don a thorough listen after patently ignoring Rawse’s entire ascent to the top of the rap game. And you know what? There are actually some certified joints. B.M.F. just isn’t one of them.

“Super High” is textbook drop-top music that sounds like DJ Quik at the top of his powers with Dr. Dre‘s Chronic era session personnel. “No. 1″ is what club bangers used to be before the term was rendered toothless by snap music’s anemic spawn. “Maybach Music 3″ is sweepingly cinematic and “Free Mason” displays some conceptual flair. There is occasional decent rapping to be found in all of these songs.

But B.M.F? A tedious dirge at best. The cheesy orchestral synth patch and 808 combo is little more than a tortured droning, but the trend shows no sign of stopping. The verses bore after one rotation. And frankly, after 20 years of rappers adopting the names of every gangster and despot from Pablo Escobar to The Taliban and even Al Qaeda, I think the super criminal nickname swag can be laid to rest.

And the tempo? Can hip-hop get any slower in the 21st century? We’ll have to start measuring it not in BPM’s (beats per minute) but in SPB’s (syllables per bar). I think B.M.F. may average a good 12 SPB at most. Bamma might as well just be doing spoken word. More importantly, how the fuck do you dance to this shit? Would dougie-ing be appropriate?

Maybe I’m just old and don’t understand modern conspicuous consumption, fantasy rap. The simplest explanation is usually the most likely, even though I still love me some conspicuous consumption, fantasy rap.

Another entry in an ongoing series about the realities, challenges and tactics of spinning records in public for pay.

Inspired by a recent check-in on the folks over at Can You Play That One Song, I’ve finally decided to share a few of the missives that patrons have handed to me that didn’t end up jettisoned back at their foreheads in a wadded up ball.

As far as irksome behaviors go, letter writing is far less problematic then singing at me, yelling out track numbers or waving a cell phone in my face. It still exposes some curious thought patterns that we can begin exploring in this space. There are so many layered assumptions and entitlement issues. Let us begin.

Is this chronological or priority order? I guess they were doing me a favor by giving me some options to choose from and opening with a polite salutation. I could have made their heads explode if I played a mash-up of all of these. I’m sure one exists.

A humble approach and a quality pick? Rare indeed so take heed on how NOT to make me hate you.

I’m clearly not hip enough to know what this is. This person was clearly pleased with themselves.

I have no idea what this even means. I’m going to assume the emoticon represents sarcasm.

This must have had no other purpose than to elicit a chuckle. Well played.

I saved the best for last. I love the exaggerated greeting that attempts to mitigate the retardery of what follows. I don’t know who’s going around telling folks that DJs really care about your birthday but you might want to let that one go, unless you’re cutting checks. And there will never be Drake’s “Fancy” at an underground classics party that I’M playing. Not even if a tiddy pops out of your leopard print.

Stay tuned for more of these to come…

Another entry in an ongoing series about the realities, challenges and tactics of spinning records in public for pay.

Party people of good taste and mature bearing, this is really important.

There are douchebags among us. (I can hear a chorus of “No shit!” echoing through cyberspace)

You know who I’m talking about:

- They can’t hold their liquor (literally and figuratively).
- They wear sunglasses in the club.
- They can’t dance without violating all western norms of personal space.
- They badger and often insult the DJ with inane requests.
- They think they can command the DJ because it’s their birthday, they’re wearing a maiden douche-crown (aka “bachelorette veil”) or got their tiddies out.
- They have an urban safari mentality regarding hot spots. They’re scared to go to these places until the folk invested in the scene have turned them into something with a buzz then they drive from far away to overrun these places on weekends.
- They won’t dance to anything that’s not on the radio… at least until they’re drunk.

[can you spot the douches?]

What I’m telling you is… we need these people. They are an important part of the social ecosystem.

Well, I need these people. And other DJs like myself need them.

There are some DJs that play in a different league. They can play deep, progressive, creative music without catering to popular trends. Huge crowds of people will come see them, they never have to compromise and they get paid well. These are your Rich Medinas, your Louie Vegas, your DJ Spinnas, etc.

I’m not one of those DJs and most of your favorite local music obsessives that rock your bodies on a regular basis are not either. We are blue collar and we are in the trenches. We have pro skills but varying paydays. We’ve paid dues for years, even decades. We do this for the love of music and sharing it with others. We do not have the luxury of always having a full room of like-minded folk who trust us 100% to be the artists that we are.

So why do we need douchebags? Because they spend money. They spend lots of money. This is what club owners care about. This helps us get paid, or at least get more gigs and stay off the ho stroll.

[these bammas are probably also douchebags. two related concepts.]

And frankly, with the exception of a core group of you whom I love dearly (you know who you are), a lot of you with progressive tastes are fickle. You don’t buy drinks. You don’t buy music. You’re always texting someone to get on a list. If we haven’t hung out and kicked it or at least spoken, then I don’t hear from you until I have a major gig, you know you’re going straight to voicemail with that “so what’s up with guestlist?” madness. I will not call you back. Now you don’t have to ask why. Some of you do this while I’m in the middle of dj’ing. You are not helping the cause.

But for the rest of you, the people that inspire me to rock with finesse and who are steadfast in your support of real DJs, I need you to increase your douchebag tolerance. I KNOW this is a lot to ask, but it should be easier when you consider the mathematical and psychological aspects.

Douchebags are followers. Some desperately want to NOT be douchebags, at least subconsciously. These precious few can be saved! Some of them just don’t know any better. They’re compelled to follow the social cues of cool folk, but this only works when the MATH is right. If the douchebags greatly outnumber non-douches, they run amok. They’ll step on your feet and spill beer everywhere while doing the limbo in the middle of the club. They’ll come up behind the ladies and grind on their behinds without introducing themselves first. But in my scientific observations, it only takes 1/4 to 1/3 of a room’s population to be composed of cool folk in order for the energy to shift in our favor.

When there’s a nucleus of people on the dancefloor who dance well and express excitement and knowledge about the music being played, others naturally gravitate to them. The socially afflicted want to be part of the “in” crowd. They want to have as much fun as the cool people are having. This is what we call the “Party People In a Can” science. Use this to your advantage. It would help me out a lot, otherwise I’m stuck playing shit songs to drunk assholes until 3 a.m.

I’d like to get paid AND enjoy playing music. I’d like to have more opportunities to play good music for you in nice spaces. Until I can break through the popularity barrier, we must tolerate douchebags for this to happen.

Hard drive failure.

Laptop failure.

Theft.

Ever happened to you right before a gig?

Just a few short years ago it wasn’t uncommon to lose record boxes on flights. That’s a soul killing ordeal. Remember those check-in battles to carry your vinyl as a carry-on? Remember when you’d lose that battle and damn near have a heart attack waiting for your flight case to emerge at baggage claim? Now that most of us are partially or all digital, the convenience of our current tools sometimes makes us forget that tragedy can still strike.

I’ve read that A-Trak tours with two laptops. That isn’t practical for me, but I do have my music drive mirrored on an external that I bring to every gig.

But what if my laptop AND external drive fail? What if your main AND backup laptop get swiped?

Actually, before you proceed, you MUST read A-Trak’s account of one of the most confounding EPIC FAILS that any DJ could suffer, including a stack of dead Lacie drives. I hope no one is still under that illusion that Mac users are immune to this sort of suffering.

I don’t tour as much as many of my peers, but if I did, I’d look into online backup services. Imagine being on the other side of the world and your whole gig bag gets stolen. You can download a full clone of your hard drive onto a new machine and be up and running again quickly.

DJ Tech Tools has a nice roundup of these services with a helpful summary of all their features.

The comments in that article are even more informative. There are many different approaches to emergency proofing your data.

Of course, we all have multiple backups at home, right? RIGHT?!? They’re just no good to you on the road in an emergency.

What disaster avoidance schemes do you all have? There’s no way that any of us should have our asses hanging in the wind due to computer failure. We just have to prepare in advance and not be lazy.