DJ Bluffing

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Second day of DJ’ing did not start so well. In fact, yesterday I had one of those mare of a days everyone has now and again, for no apparent reason. Looking back now, and after being told by my buddy today, I was being a little b**ch. There was a heat wave so it was ridiculously hot, as in about 100 degrees. I had could barely sleep with the heat, so woke up in a little b**ch mood which continued for the day. What am I doing with my life, I worked all weekend and made about $25, homeless bums are higher up on the salary ladder than me, I stayed up trying to find good remixes and ended up downloading about 200 crap songs (paid for them, obviously) and for what… a DJ gig I don’t even get paid for, what an ape I was, am, will ever be. This was the mood I was in when I headed to the gym to DJ. My little b**ch mood.

So I started off with a rock intro, purely because of the assistant manager and me being an ape trying to please her. This did not go down well with everyone else in there it seemed. There was no bopping around, not even fake bopping from the dude behind the counter. I kept trying to save it with more rock, but even as good as they were, I got the vibe that they were not going down well. The DJ booth is located half way up the stairs, so I can’t see as much as I would like. The main entrance, people on the stairs, and the front desk more or less. I was then informed that the assistant manager wasn’t even on that day, the funking job. My little b**ch mood got even worse.

All I could think about was what kind of ape I was – stuck under a stairs, playing songs the people didn’t even like, sweating to death, tired from being up all night downloading these crap songs, and not getting money for any of this ape-ness. And I was wearing headphones that no sound came out of. What a tool I am. Funk that, this music needs to change, and fast. I cut the song that was on short, but changed the entire musical angle too soon. I put on a song that I think, played at the right time, could go down well. Not though, when things are going horrendous to start with. I went from a (savage) remix of a Clash song, to not this song, but a remix of this…

The remix, obviously, is not too bad being honest, its pretty cool. But when you’re trying to save making yourself look like an ape, it is probably not the best song to give you street cred, I actually saw one girl look up at me and laugh. Oh Jesus. I blame it on a rush of blood to the head, what with the headphones being stuck on too tight and all. I half thought of stopping the set short and just leaving, what were they going to do, not not pay me? I gave it one last roll of the dice with a few guaranteed remixes. These got me in a better mood at least. Until I saw the General Manager making a bee line for me. Balls.

“Hey man, we haven’t been properly introduced yet”… Yeah, look I’ll pack my stuff and go… “I just wanted to say, great job, you are really getting the place going” Eh, say what now? “You are definitely better than the last guy we had” Ok, I’ll take that as a compliment that you think I’m better than at least one other person, cheers. “Any more 80’s remixes, we loved the other one you just played?” Rick Astley? A girl laughed at me, are you sure??!!! Here you go so… I put on a gem (At the time, I had put it in the bob hope pile after the reception I thought poor Rick had gotten)

Now I could see people bopping and dancing around, my tunnel vision and little b**ch mood had been lifted! People were even singing along at the top of their voices, it is Hollywood too I suppose so they might have been hoping to get signed up for a record deal at the same time. This even brought one of my fans out of the woodwork from upstairs. I saw his head pop over the banister, squeal, and rush down with a friend in tow to tell me he loves to dance to this song. Good stuff, no I will not dance with you. So the two of them stood halfway up the stairs, where I was situated, and danced along to the song in front of me. Very flamboyantly with each other. Throwing me looks. The whole song.

More and more people were swinging by now to say good job, great work, wuu! One guy rushed out to his car to give me his friend’s CD to see if I would play it next time (I wont, it’s horrendous, for the gym at least). They also seemed to linger around, to watch me do my magic. It was then when I realized that these people thought I was actually remixing these songs on the spot, making it up as I went along. I only mix the end and start of songs. My headphones are plugged into a slot in my laptop where no sound comes out of. When I realized they were watching my hands to see how I was remixing these songs so well, I did what any person would do. I informed them that they were remixes I had found. I wish.

Instead, I did what any ape would do, and pretended to mix, scratch and mash songs together. On my laptop. With no external mixer or sound card. My headphones filling my ears with silence. Making sure to press parts of the keyboard where there were no buttons, pretending to wiggle my fingers around on the scroll part as if I was rewinding the song down or speeding it up. Tapping the side of the laptop as if I was making part of the song repeat and then finally kick in. I can mix two songs I have together well, but these people were convinced I was remixing entire songs, who was I to disappoint! I kept this up until they seemed impressed and convinced  I was doing it and left. It was tiring enough, pretending to be a master remixer.

My fan came back a good few times to tell me “Good job” and give me two thumbs up. Where did he put his thumbs, I hear you say, hardy har. I was going to see if I could get a photo with him for the blog, seeing as he was dressed in a ridiculous get-up once again, but I didn’t, for two reasons. Firstly, my camera has been bust since Mexico, and secondly, aren’t fans the ones who ask you for a photo, not the other way around? Although I presume Larry David is calling over to my house any day now for a quick polaroid. 

I finished the set on a high note, even getting calls for “One more song!” which I duly obliged, with a song I’ll play below. My little b**ch mood had been lifted. It was in the back of my mind that hopefully no other DJ will ever watch me work my magic on the remixing side, notice my headphones are plugged into nothing, or that the remixes are the exact same every time. Plus I remembered that I still was not getting paid for any of this, but I pushed all of that irrelevant stuff way back to the very back of my mind. 

I headed home, chilled out a while, tried to be productive, sweltered in the heat, then decided it was a boring Monday night, I might as well go work out. Which is when one of my roommates asked me where I was off to… the gym. “The gym? Weren’t you there earlier?” Yeah. “You have a fun life, the gym twice in one day! I’m only joking, have fun!” Have fun you say. Twice in one day. I have a fun life indeed. Indeed I do. Indeed. I have no life. Twice in one day! What kind of chump am I? Twice in one day?!!! What are you doing with your life?!! You are a bum, sort yourself out! And what the funk is with this heat?!! Why can’t it be cold and miserable?!!!… And I was back to being a little b**ch again. Wuu.

Here was the encore song that had people doing the zombie dance that goes along to it…

Thriller Remix by Michael Jackson

Being honest, I used this post as a way to vent out the last of my bad mood. Today, in contrast, has been mighty!!! You must be so excited to hear about it next time!!! Re de de!!!

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Oops, I Did It Again!

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Today was a tale of two jobs. With the outcome more or less the exact same – all work and no pay. I have a feeling it will be a looong post, so I will break it up into two, one for each fun job!

First on the agenda, was my DJ’ing debut in the gym. Mucho gracias to everyone on Spacebook that suggested songs for me to play, they were highly appreciated. Even though I actually did not use any of them this time. However, they did lead me down the long tail to finding ridiculously good remixes and bootlegs of class songs. So, once again, thanks for the indirect help. And to everyone on Twitter who might read this and did not bother to suggest anything at all, ye pr**ks, let me down.

With my music sorted, and my new brilliant DJ software in tow, I was highly pumped to get the gym rocking. And, this time, I wouldn’t just be pleasing big gay Jim on his own, I would get to please the whole gym of gay dudes, with the splattering of hot women, orgy on! In I went, confidently striding up to the front desk, unlike the last time. I am here to DJ. The guy at the front desk gives me the nod, I am good to go.

Up to the equipment and set up my gear. Which consists of my laptop, a lead to connect it to the sound system (they have it already, good waste of $18, a lot on my budget) and my headphones. I soon find out only my laptop is needed, headphones are props too it seems. I realize that the slot needed to connect to the sound system is where my headphones go. Headphones are needed for effect at least, so I plug them into the next and only other available slot, no sound comes through them, but at least it looks more legit than being caught with them not hooked up to anything but stuck in my pocket! I would now be mixing using headphones that will actually block out the music, ha, should be even easier now.

However, the minute the first song goes on, I know I am in a different type of trouble. I pick a remix of a well known song, not too left-field and well suited for a gym vibe. The people I can see in my vicinity perk up their ears. I can see the puzzled look of them recognizing the song kind of, they know those lyrics, but not the beat or the music. But their feet are tapping, hips are popping, asses shaking and heads are bopping. Oh no, this has started too well. There is only one way this is going and I am not ready for it after the big gay Jim incident

The song kicks in and the magic happens. Big gay Jim comes flaming out of nowhere “I love this song, pump it up!!!!” No problem Jim, where’s the volume though? Ha, amidst a sea of buttons and knobs, on the sound board obviously, I find the volume and we’re off! Here’s the opener… Smells Like Neon Spirit by Nirvana vs Disco Trash Music

Not one to blow my own trumpet, but I have done well and picked my music wisely. The place is soon rocking. The only mistake I feel is choosing Boyz by M.I.A (“where my boys at”) but going well besides that. I am getting away on the mixing side of things (end a song and start the next one with similar beats, blend, hope for the best, DJ on!) and big gay Jim wont stop giving me the thumbs up. Before I go any further, a Seinfeld joke springs to mind. One of his stand-up jokes is of how people take compliments about their clothes so personally. As in, if someone says “Nice jacket” the person wearing it might take the compliment too much to heart, as if they had personally stitched and hand made the jacket. When, all they did was pick it out and wear it. 

So, when people start coming up to me to compliment me on ‘my’ music, I give a thanks, they’re not actually my songs, I am a great picker though, cheers. The hardest part I found was making myself look busy up there and as if I was doing something. Headphone to one ear held up with one hand, fool around on my keyboard with the other, blend the two songs, look busy. It is all going swimmingly well, until my laptop crashes ruining my mixing, ha. At least two guys starting doing a fake chant “We want more, we want more” and then a big gay “Yaaaaaaay” when it was back up and running. 

The requests for Britney and Madonna are non-stop too, cliche on! A few people are even asking me for my DJ card, eh, what’s that? One guy, however, who is blatantly not a fan, is the guy behind the counter. I notice that when my head is up from pretending to be busy, he pretends to like it and bop a bit. But, when he thinks I am not looking, there is no foot tapping or bopping, until he sees me again, then spoof dances. The song I just put on is a long one, so having nothing to do, I decide to stare him down, to see if he cracks and just admits he doesn’t like it. Stubborn little guy though, he fake dances his heart out for me, I appreciated it.

Surprisingly, even a girl came up to compliment the music as well. Enthusiastic and popping off walls, she comes bouncing up to me, blah blah blah, what’s your name? She asked me this just when a song was changing, so I had to pretend to be busy and mixing. I tell her “Two secs there” as in, hang on two minutes, while I do this, and I will tell you then. She obviously understands me word for word, responds with “Tsector, what an awesome name, good job!” and off she bounces again before I could speak anymore hubbula hubbula to her. Unfortunately too, there was no sign of Bros, so his song will have to remain on ice until the next day.

My two hour set finishes up, I am pumped to the max, head is inflating from the new found respect I have from the gym staff and I manage to get Jim to realize it will never happen. As I am hobbling downstairs from the DJ area  (knee is still dodge), Jim is squealing in joy, balls, I made it too good again. Merrick, awesome, woah, I am sweating after that, and he then starts to tell me how much better it was than he thought it would be (the music and my DJ’ing, obviously). I am concentrating on my hobbling and the stairs and when he notices my gimp limp, asks why am I hobbling. Soccer, crocked, rar diddy rar. “Ooooo, you play soccer? What don’t you do?!!” Eh, men, for one Jim, sorry to disappoint. Ha, even if the guy behind the counter didn’t like my music, he laughed at my joke. In fairness to big gay Jim, he took it well too. The joke, obviously!!!

Song of the day, there could’ve been so many, but here’s a good one to make people think you can mix… Roxanne (DiscoTech Remix) by The Police