What do DJs do it for, and would you trust one with your sister?

"In November 1987, Danny Rampling and his wife-to-be Jenni threw a party in the Fitness Centre gym near Southwark Bridge, just south of the Thames. "Sensation seekers, let the music take you to the top," declared the invitation... (Rampling recalls) "The first night was quite nerve-racking. Carl Cox played with me, and another guy that played funk, so it was a real mish-mash really."

"There was a funk crowd and a house crowd and it just didn't work. It was shaky but it was fun, hence the enthusiasm to do it again."" – From Altered State, by Matthew Collin, published by Serpent's Tail, 1997.

Matthew Collin's insightful Altered State entertainingly detailed the British experience of "DJs and disco biscuits" from its roots in the clubs of Chicago, the beaches of Ibiza and the degenerate warehouses of South London, all the way up to the commercial empire we see today.

It's nice to remember that the likes of Danny Rampling and Carl Cox were once just pimply kids spinning tunes in disused old buildings, rather than the cashed-up style leaders we see today.

DJ culture is an odd hybrid of musical culture. Indeed, while many may rightly claim that the British were just responsible for adding hype and a price-tag to what had its roots in Philly disco nights, San Fransisco gay clubs and Harlem street corners, the truth is that London in the late 1980s wrote the rule book for the modern-day cult of DJ-dom, for better or for worse.

Had he been alive to see it, cynical rock journalist Lester Bangs would have had a few angry things to say about the whole thing. How did music go from the visual feast of lights, costumes, guitars and leather that the rock concert gave us, to a packed crowd waving their hands in the air at one sullen looking bloke in a t-shirt, playing other people's records??

We have become strange. All manner of explanations are possible, from the earnest ("Now it's all about the music, man") to the desperate ("It's the chicks, dog") to the downright greedy ("This way I don't have to split the cash with the band, bro").

And as I sit here typing this, recovering from my own little gig (Thursdays at Attica) and anticipating my next "Big Night" (James Lavelle, Zouk, 18.9.04), perhaps a more interesting question is, what spurs people to play "other people's" music in a live context? Why, when most would rather just go out with their friends, drink and dance, would you instead lug 200 records or CDs to a smoky club every week, sit isolated from the world in a booth and risk the wrath of drunken strangers and a musical genius who requests "Sing Hallelujah" every week? Fools, I say.

I often turn to the idea in the art world of the "Perfect Installation", whereby the artist is giving a darkened room, and can install each and every element from light, sound, smell and temperature, to bring the participant to whatever new level of experience they like. Playing tunes is like that; you are controlling the joy-stick on a room full of potential mood-swings. By mixing the music of so many great artists in a particular order, you take people on a "shaky but fun" ride where you alone write the rules.

Which explains sod all, I know. It really is just for the chicks.

But I think when you dig down, the other important thing that DJ culture expresses is just how safe and trite the commercial music world is, and how controlled by music's lowest common denominator. In a situation where terrible-crap-from-the-80s-never-dies-it-just-moves-to-Singapore, it's no wonder people will pay $35 bucks to go and hear what's actually possible in the global mosh-pit of musical expression. It's because the radio is so crap here – or more to the point, it's because the taste of a mass market needed to run a radio station here is judged to be so strictly middle of the road. If it continues, Phil Collins will still be considered a star in Singapore when he's singing live from a rest home with his collostomy bag hanging from the mike stand.

Back in November 1987, Danny Rampling and Carl Cox decided it was worth playing their music to their mates, and henceforth Shoom! nights heralded the dawn of Acid House. The party had started. In London, radio in time caught up, and now in any given living room in England, house parties are breaking out to the back-drop of clinking Absolut bottles and Radio 1.

What if radio here became more about style-leading than demographic slavery? Certainly it would be interesting. But is this hard-working nation ready to handle un-zoned celebration breaking out in the suburbs? Would Pasir Ris ever be the same again.

Time will tell, and it'll soon be put to the test. That's the one thing I can guarantee you in my play list. And another is, if you think good radio is ever going to replace DJs, just remember who's going be back there somewhere in a darkened studio, twiddling those knobs. Bahaha.....

You've hit it right on the head there. What makes us (DJ's) do it? I'm nodding emphatically in agreement with your 'perfect installation' theory and I've got a couple of things to add to it. I think DJ's are born, not made. Obviously they have a passion for music. But it comes from some deeper instinct to share something you love with people who's opinion you value.

When I was a kid, I would tape my favourite tracks from the radio or 45's and make copies for my friends. But only for my friends who 'got it' like I did. For me, it's always been about that feeling - 'getting it'. You could say it's the old hairs-on-the-back-of-the-neck sensation. You feel it deep inside. And you want others to feel it too. When you're playing at a club and people throw their hands in the air at exactly the right point, you know they're feeling it too. It's just an extension of making a tape for your best mates!

I could go on about this all night.

Spence

Spot on Spence! That's how I feel about DJ'ing as well, it being an extension of making mixtapes for close friends. Luke man, great piece. You guys really got me pondering now and digging deep down to my DJ roots..

I remember back in my day I also used to spend sleepless nights making mixtapes. Putting together tunes from records, tapes, cds and even excerpts of ads and interviews on the radio, capturing it with that magical 'pause' button. Take after take after take until I got it all right. Whatever I thought was cool, fresh, interesting, funny, banging, thoughtful would go on. When it was all done, I'd be pretty damn happy with it.

Here's the thing, that feeling was nothing compared to the thrill of actually passing the master tape onto someone else, having them listen to it and seeing them get all excited and hyped up about it as well. So I'd feed off that, and go off to work on the next tape for my other mate. That's what I think its all about, having that desire to share something you think is special with others as you know how, through music. It doesn't matter if there is only one mate who actually likes the stuff, or thousands. So long as there are others who are in tune with your music, you're in tune with them.

The mix-tape warriors!! Great feedback guys, you've cut right to the chase.
My own "early days" story consisted of sitting in a small room in our school, tuning up reel-to-reels for the morning radio show. The "station" was called Radio Crisis (for some reason), and essentially consisted of a mixing desk, two tape decks, a turn-table, reel to reel, big speakers, and lots of speaker wire. I can recall bringing in new Prince, Milli Vanilli, Public Enemy or Bomb The Bass 45s, piping hot from the record store, brimming with anticipation at sharing my new discoveries. In some ways, the DJ is like the archeologist, digging in music bins, garage sales and websites, looking for those unique gems that can be unearthed at that opportune moment during a set.
It's that "Wohhrrr, coool..." moment you describe so well, Spence. That sense that other people are "feelin' it". If you read this and you too go see a lot of DJs, ask them later to identify about your favourite track in your set. They'll quietly get as much of a kick out of it as you will when you get into a new "stream" of music and lables.
My friend Richard was with me at one of my favourite live gigs, Fatboy Slim, and said listening to it was like being back at school, as he dropped in some of the old school rap and reggae we'd grown up with. DJs that play to the crowd and both energise and are energised by people around them, are the ones doing it for the right reasons, the love of what good tunes can do to a room full of people. It was the closest to enlightenment that I've had sober.
Like you say, I too could wax lyrical about this one for ages. Cheers, lads!