Tag Archives: Kanye West

Milli Vanilli

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Everyone remembers Milli Vanilli and the story of how they go caught being frauds, miming the words to their songs while other people sang the vocals for them, right? Come to think of it, maybe 5% of readers will, seeing as hardly anyone remembered Bros (how could you not know them?), so here is a snippet of Milli in action…

There is a reason to bring this up now, just to keep it in mind later on. Anyways, last night in L.A before I left for San Francisco to do a bit of writing, I headed out for my friend’s birthday. The location was Foxtail, a fairly la de da, pretentious, poser-ish, L.A place. Suited me to a tee, ha. I was told the place has been used on Entourage and the Hills, but who knows. It is usually full of celeb heads and a tough place to get into at the best of times. Apparently this is a hot spot, where you see famous apes stumbling out of. Again, there is a reason that I am giving you more of this useless information. 

Usually, 5 guys going up together would have bob hope of getting in, there was a big long line, mostly just hot women been ushered in to fill the place up. Thankfully my friend knew the guys who were promoting the place, who, as it turned out, also DJ’ing in there that night. In we go, no boring line or queue, happy days. The venue itself is two floors, by no means huge, but savage decor, looks cool. And all this comes at a fairly expensive price. Particularly for someone on my budget.

My original plan was to have a few pre-drinks at my place, then stroll to the club and go to the bank en route. For some reason, all this went out the window and I ended up boozeless and penniless in the club. No ATM in there, so my buddy gave me a loan, far money than I had planned on. One of the other guys buys a round of shots, 5 tequilas, happy birthday kind of thing. Down the hatch, and people disperse for a look upstairs. Coincidentally, it is just my birthday buddy and I left by the bar. Might as well buy him his birthday drink now, seeing as we are just standing here. Nothing to do with the fact the others have conveniently disappeared. Up for a shot boss, my round! “Sounds good, I’ll just pop to the toilet and be right back” Cool, see you in a minute. The cost of those two shots alone sent me reeling, big time.

Unfortunately, it got worse. While I was waiting for my buddy to come back so that we could do the shot, the guy who had bought the first round was after re-appearing. “Cheers Merrick, is that mine?” pointing to the other shot. Eh, yeah, I suppose, balls, cheers. Toasted him, after giving away the birthday shot, and the other 3 re-appear from different directions. “Hold on, we’ll do them all together, Merrick got this round in guys!” Balls. Balls some more. “Where are the other shots? Did the bar girl bring them over yet?” Hang on, I’ll go check, balls. Mosey on over to the bar, 3 more tequilas please, why do I feel sick and I haven’t even taken the shot yet.

The next few minutes were a whirl wind and a blur. Money that I did not have was handed over, tiny shots given in exchange, down the hatch, head spinning, stomach felt sick, and none of that was drink related. My next few days’ budget was just poured into 5 little shot glasses and handed out. Oh God, what was I doing?! The round was so expensive, especially when you have no money!!! Whatever you think it was, I’d say add another $20-$30 on to that figure, more or less, it was bad.

Panic attack symptoms and dizziness started to get hold of me. Thankfully when I went outside to get some air, my buddy, who was late coming in, rang me. Told me not to worry, he would ease the pain, bringing a shoulder in with him. I presume he meant one for me to cry on.

While waiting for him to come in and ease the pain, I headed upstairs. As I walked up, I noticed every second song that they played was good, then bad, and so on. While I walked around the upstairs part, a remix I frequently play at the gym came on, these DJ’s might be good after all, birds of a feather! My buddy was over by them, watching them work their magic, and called me over. This, this, was when all respect was completely lost for them. I thought I was doing a bit of bluffing at the start, they were Milli Vanilli!!!

A big mountain of equipment was mounted in front of them. Turntables, mixers, flashing lights, knobs, pedals, speakers, and a laptop. When I was standing by them, watching the crowd go nuts for the remix, I noticed that one was twirling knobs, turning discs, pushing buttons, and mixing his little heart out, while the other DJ was clapping to the crowd and pumping them up. What nobody else seemed to notice about the mixing DJ, was that he was actually doing absolutely nothing! As in nothing! None of what he was pressing or twirling were having any effect on the song. It was simply a remixed song! He was claiming the remix as his own, as if he was doing them live, on the spot!

I know, I know, I have documented it here that the first time in the gym DJ’ing, when I was completely clueless and winging it, I pretended to be doing more than I was. Thankfully, that has stopped. Like sober dancing, I copped on that more than likely there was not a big spotlight focused on me, and that more than likely nobody was staring at my goings on. And, if they were, I didn’t want to feel like a fool and be caught out.

The song which I watched him “remix live”, and which the crowd were giving him kidneys and babies for being able to do, was a Kanye West remix which I can’t find a Youtube video for, but it is full of bits that would be easy to bluff, volume going missing, vocals only, beat getting faster in places. Similar to this…

And the dude was taking credit as if he was doing it there and then, the both of them were, I could hear them tell my friend it was them remixing the song! I watched them for another 2 or 3 songs, they would swap duties every song, but the same thing every time, pretending to be pressing buttons, swirling knobs, speeding up the tune… all bull, I knew the remixes they were playing. The crowd did not seem to care that neither were even good at mixing the end and start of two songs together, they might have well been pressing stop… start.It was then when I realized that the club might be built up to be more than it actually is, a blow-in. You can’t beat a crowd full of drink and who knows what else though, I suppose. If they can get away with it, who am I to criticize.

Now that I am writing about it, it does not read too well from my point of view. However, the reason it shocked me so much at the time was because of this… I always got the impression that it would be the cream of the crop DJ’ing in a top, hot-spot, ritzy venue in Hollywood! A few of the places I have been to, the DJs have been savage. But at the same time, seeing as this place was billed as so good, I suppose I expected more. After DJ’ing for about a month now, these dudes were doing the exact same, if not worse. It was all smoke and mirrors, all they needed was their laptop. (Neither were the DJ who remixed the songs originally either, in case you think one might have been, they were just complete bluffers).

Thankfully, I realized at this time that I was being a complete ape by bothering to get annoyed at the DJ’ing bluffing, like a DJ snob, like I had any clue at all myself. After all, I was DJ’ing in a gym, while they were here, in a supposed top club in Hollywood. Supposed.

I left them at their bluffing and went off to find my buddy and his shoulder. Thankfully, his shoulder saved the night!

One last music related topic… The song If U Seek Amy by Britney Spears, how is that controversial? A load of people talk about it if you play it here. Originally I thought she wanted to fight Amy Winehouse. Then I was told to say the title of the song quickly, and I still don’t get it. At most, it sounds like she is saying vasectomy? Anyone  else think the same? Or care? No? Shut up? Ok.

Song of the day, is this mighty remix, which I am actually remixing live, as you listen to it, I am that good! Part of Me (Discotech Remix) by Chris Cornell ft Timbaland

I’ll Have A Diet Coke, A Muppet And… An Orgy?

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Friday and Saturday night were full of hits and misses. Friday started off with me being in a “funk the recession, I’m on a session” mood. I had devised a plan for myself… blog -> book -> sitcom -> movie, ha, every man needs a plan! Plus, I was back in my embracing L.A, going with the flow, don’t turn down random invites anymore, frame of mind. Not as clever as I thought it might be.

First club I went to, once again, was full of girls with a thirst for Coca-Cola, Pepsi must be freaked. My new response is to tell them no, but I have some Diet if they want it? This is met by puzzlement and being asked if it is good? Yes, you ape, its lovely. It’s funny as well to watch girls flock over to your table if there are bottles of vodka or the likes on it, not that that they were mine or anything, obviously. The minute the last drop of the last bottle is finished, the girls disperse like gay magicians, poof, disappear. I waited for the girl I was talking to to come back, to give me her number, but she obviously got lost, or found a can of Coke in the toilet to keep her occupied. 

The next bar on the list was the first bar in Hollywood I have seen hit by the recession, it was not on a session, it was funking dead. Cool bar too, but just dead. And there was an absolute ape on the door, an Irish ape as it happens. As I’m stopped at the door, I notice the bouncer, about my age, has a hybrid American/Irish accent, like the gimp I met on the plane. I don’t mean either that he was American with Irish parents. He was fully Irish, putting on an American accent. When he hears my accent, for some reason, he thinks I’m taking the p**s out of him. “Where are you from?” Ireland, you? “Who sent you up to me? You’re not Irish, where are you from?” Cork, you? “Belfast, but you’re not Irish, who sent you up to me to talk like that?” I am Irish, what are you on about? “Say something Irish so…” You’re a muppet, can I go in now? This actually gets me in, but not before he has given me a high five, and told the other bouncers of how we belong to the same clan, he’s Gaelic too, and out comes the Belfast accent. Sure we are, because Irish people often call each other Gaelic, you muppet.

The next day, I decided to give up booze. At least until I start to be productive. So, until I got a definite yes for a job, no more boozing, these are recession times we live in after all. At least when people in L.A hear you’re off the booze, they do not look at you like a freak they don’t want to get stuck talking to for the night, as they might, say, in Ireland on a night out. In L.A, they save those looks for when you tell them you actually don’t drink Coke, so to speak.

So, anyways, I decide to head out on Saturday for a while sober Joe, to a going away party in a bar close to my house. About half one, I get a text asking if I want to go to a house party, which is on in an apartment close by. The text is from a random girl I met before, a European like myself. She lures me to the party by telling me there are lots of “hot European girls here who would love to say hi” How could I resist?!

I get to the apartment, she opens the door looking all bohemian like, tells me to come in, have a seat. The minute I cross the threshold, I get a weird vibe. No music at the party, but that is the least of my worries. There is also a fire on, for some odd reason, so the place was roasting. Again, not a major worry I would find out. The apartment is a sitting room and kitchen in one, plus bathroom and bedroom. I have been fooled with false promises. There is only one other girl here, and four guys. The guys are sitting on the L-shaped couch, the girl is sitting on the floor. The hostess tells me take a seat, there is only room on the floor, so I sit next to the girl, who is French it seems, and quite hot. Just as I sit down, on the floor, and notice I am sitting right with my back to the fire, the job, a guy comes out of the bathroom, the girl next to me stands up, goes over to the guy, they hold hands, and both leave, all in one foul swoop. Ciao, ciao, nice to meet you, eh, where are the other hot European girls?

The hostess comes in, sits between the guys on the couch, and starts smiling at me. I notice the dudes are kind of doing the same. I am on the ground, giving them all a dopey, uncomfortable, what-the-funk-is-this, smile back, feeling like I am being interviewed with the set-up going on, and feeling the heat rip into me from the fire. Then the random questions are thrown at me by the dudes, who I now see are probably, max, bicentennial, max. “Want a beer?” No, thanks. “Are you on anything?” No. “Want to be on something?” No. “Are you single?” No, I’m married to God. “You’re funny. You should relax, this is a good place to be, we’re going to have fun”. Oook, this is not the party I was promised, where are those hot European girls again?

Trying to change the subject, and getting sick of the stares from some German dude, Klaus, I ask the girl where the funk are all the hot European girls she was on about to me. “Hey, chill out Mark, you need to relax on that, it’s not always all about the women you know” What the funk are you on about. What the funk is this. “Yeah, you need to relax, want to be on something?” Klaus, funk off. It is now when I realize I am no longer sweating because of the fire. I think this is lined up to be an orgy. With one girl, four dudes, and, if their plan goes well, me. 

This is the first time I have been in this situation, so I did not really register what exactly was going on at first, it was not something I expected, as a normal person wouldn’t I presume. So, I asked again, are there any women coming, and got the same reply. Why is there no music either? Oh, there’s music in the bedroom, want to come in and help me pick a song? I wasn’t asking you, Klaus, funk off. In reality, I didn’t tell him to funk off at all, I was planning my escape route and trying to play it cool. So, after having sat down only a few long, long minutes earlier, I jumped back up, time for me to leave. “Oh you can’t leave, you just got here, we’re going to have a fun night, you’re not leaving” Of course I’m not, I’m just going outside to make a quick call, I’ll be right back, chill out Klaus. 

For some reason I didn’t want to risk the elevator, so I hurtled down the three flights of stairs and briskly walked (half ran) home. To top it all off, I actually got a text on the way home from the girl asking why I just disappeared like that, some of the guys thought it was very rude, I should be more open, maybe next time? Hopefully, hopefully, she understood my text calling her a muppet. I’ll have to start screening the random invites from now on!

Song of the weekend is Gifted (featuring Kanye West, Santogold and Lykke Li) by N.A.S.A