dj snobbery

i am just going to go ahead and admit it. i am a dj snob. unapologetically so. i don’t care if a place is empty, if i’m loving the dj, it’s a great night. i have lived in arizona for almost three years now, and i have yet to be impressed with any of the local disc jockeys. that’s right, i called them by their full names, isn’t that what your parents do when you aren’t acting right? because these folks are not (acting right).

i always know when the dj is good because i don’t leave the dance floor, i pass out from exhaustion when i get home, and my body hurts the next day from working it out all night. if i hear an entire song, it had better be something so hot that it’s going to blow up the air waves in a month (because good djs play music you haven’t heard on the radio) or it had better be the end of the night! if my hips stop moving or i have to pause and catch the beat, you, mr. dj, are NOT doing your job! and the cardinal sin of djing is dead air. not the “oh no, the speaker went out” or “the power just died” dead air, the “i waited too long to cue up a record, and the previous song has come to and end” dead air. a dj should not just be a glorified record player, he (or she!) should be an artist, like the french say it.

i want to hear more than 2 songs in ten minutes, i want to hear songs i forgot existed but love so much that i dance too hard on some random dude and then have to escape when he asks for my number. i don’t want to have to ask the dj to “play my song,” because i want to be too busy having a good time to notice that he hasn’t. my hope for the summer, is to find that elusive great night. the one where i walk to my car with a happy glow (you know, the sweat sheen from dancing too hard), shoes in hand because my feet hurt so good, and on my way to some late night after the club food because i have burned enough calories to earn a post game meal. i’ve got two months, let the quest begin…