I used to be a DJ - a long, long time ago. I was a club DJ - not one of those fast talking radio jocks. The only thing I really miss about being a DJ is that perfect moment when two songs intersect; become one and then split. Life giving way to life. It was beautiful. Mostly, I'd spin records while drunk people "danced" at various clubs around town that would pop up every couple of months, disappear just as quickly and then reappear with a new name and management. I don't ever recall getting paid. I had to spin mostly Top 40 shite or remixes of Top 40 shite. Sometimes I wouldn't, which is probably why they never paid me. . .
Parties were better. I could spin a bit more rock with liberal doses of old school hip hop. At home I would spin house mixes for my enjoyment. Nothing spectacular, all I did was ride a 131 BPM groove for an hour. But who really wants to listen to such repetitive bullshit?
Being a DJ was much simpler back then. Girl Talk's computer chop and paste hadn't changed the game yet. Mash ups were just a whisper on the Internets. All you really had to do as a DJ was beat match. And if you could scratch a little - well good for you. I had the Wheels of Steel but the bulk of my work was done with CDs. From a portability standpoint, it was much easier to cart around. It wasn't vinyl, but I still had to know what I was doing. Now any asshole with a laptop can "DJ." Computer programs will beat match the songs for you, give you built-in effects to make a seamless transition and then suggest the next song you should play based on BPM, harmonics, etc. You don't really have to have any skill, just an overbearing sense of entitlement about your musical taste-making abilities and a shiny shirt . . .
Anyway. I pulled the old rig out last weekend because I was supposed to DJ a fish fry. And by DJ I mean turn my iPod on, put it on shuffle and go drink beer. Having all of the equipment out just makes me look like I know/care about what I'm doing. The gig fell through, which was fine by me, but it did give me a reason to play with my old equipment.
I tried to spin and epic house set like I used to but I ran into some trouble. See, all of my CDs have some strange labels like Electronic Dance Noise 2 (but no volume 1), Degeneration Theory 1, and Choose A Big Fucking Television, Choose Rotting Away At The End Of It All, (10 points to anyone who can tell me what group is on that CD) and that's just the tip of the iceberg. It seems I couldn't be bothered create track listings for most of the discs I made.
While digging through my CD books I happened to find a CD labeled My Milk, a mix by C$. I'm pretty sure its the first mix Mr. $ ever gave me (and he's given me quite a few) because its disjointed and weird but full of little gems and basically lays out C$'s varying musical sensibilities. So here's my challenge to you: How many tracks can you name?
Download My Milk here. And then see how far C$ has come with his latest installment That Boy Needs Therapy.
My Milk - A C$ Mix
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9. Soundgarden - Drawing Flies
10. Radiohead - National Anthem
11. Folk Implosion - Natural One
12.
13.
14.
15.
16.
17. The Gandharvas - First Day Of Spring
18.
19.
20.
21.
22. Hugh Masekela - Grazing In The Grass
23.
24.
Being a DJ was much simpler back then. Girl Talk's computer chop and paste hadn't changed the game yet. Mash ups were just a whisper on the Internets. All you really had to do as a DJ was beat match. And if you could scratch a little - well good for you. I had the Wheels of Steel but the bulk of my work was done with CDs. From a portability standpoint, it was much easier to cart around. It wasn't vinyl, but I still had to know what I was doing. Now any asshole with a laptop can "DJ." Computer programs will beat match the songs for you, give you built-in effects to make a seamless transition and then suggest the next song you should play based on BPM, harmonics, etc. You don't really have to have any skill, just an overbearing sense of entitlement about your musical taste-making abilities and a shiny shirt . . .
Anyway. I pulled the old rig out last weekend because I was supposed to DJ a fish fry. And by DJ I mean turn my iPod on, put it on shuffle and go drink beer. Having all of the equipment out just makes me look like I know/care about what I'm doing. The gig fell through, which was fine by me, but it did give me a reason to play with my old equipment.
I tried to spin and epic house set like I used to but I ran into some trouble. See, all of my CDs have some strange labels like Electronic Dance Noise 2 (but no volume 1), Degeneration Theory 1, and Choose A Big Fucking Television, Choose Rotting Away At The End Of It All, (10 points to anyone who can tell me what group is on that CD) and that's just the tip of the iceberg. It seems I couldn't be bothered create track listings for most of the discs I made. While digging through my CD books I happened to find a CD labeled My Milk, a mix by C$. I'm pretty sure its the first mix Mr. $ ever gave me (and he's given me quite a few) because its disjointed and weird but full of little gems and basically lays out C$'s varying musical sensibilities. So here's my challenge to you: How many tracks can you name?
Download My Milk here. And then see how far C$ has come with his latest installment That Boy Needs Therapy.
My Milk - A C$ Mix
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9. Soundgarden - Drawing Flies
10. Radiohead - National Anthem
11. Folk Implosion - Natural One
12.
13.
14.
15.
16.
17. The Gandharvas - First Day Of Spring
18.
19.
20.
21.
22. Hugh Masekela - Grazing In The Grass
23.
24.
Well, I think it would be too easy for me to compete, but I will say that while I love the title and some of the songs, it's pretty amazing how far I've come. I want to thank you Fresh for this lovely compare and contrast, as well as a trip to memory lane. All these songs are a microcosm of a time I remember fondly. I would say roughly the 1999-2000 C$. Oh what a difference 9 years makes.
I have not listened to C$ mixes yet, but I will say "Put Some Summer Clothes On" was a hell of a mix. How about posting that as well.