It took me a few years but on Saturday night I finally fulfilled a long-term, if loosely-held, ambition: I DJ’d at a friend’s flat party.
Now I know my mixing was haphazard at best and my track selection nonsensical to all but myself, but I genuinely believe I have found my new favourite pastime. My destiny, perhaps.
It was a small-scale party in a modestly-sized living room. No-one else besides my friend and I appeared until ten o’clock and at its peak the ‘crowd’ numbered a meagre nine good souls. There were no pills, no security and no strobe effects involved. But this was the perfect, homely environment in which my fledgling DJ skills could take root without fear of angry recriminations for playing an AC/DC-Billy Joel mashup or for that 30 seconds of silence during which I had to make a lager-replenishment dash to the fridge.
But despite my mistakes, I feel I can now relate in some small way to The Chemical Brothers, DJ Shadow, 2manyDJs or any other turntablist extraordinaires you care to mention. I get it, you see.
When you play Johnny Cash people nod their appreciation but continue chatting away, engrossed in their silly little conversations. But then you drop something like ‘Don’t Stop Til’ You Get Enough’, you watch those bums leave sofas and you think, ‘I did that.’ You get to take all the credit. Hell, you might as well have recorded the song.
So that’s it, I must purchase my own decks. I have already convinced myself that such an investment would be eminently sound.
“Ah yes but vinyl collection before decks must come,” as Yoda (not the DJ) was once quoted as saying. I could just raid the old man’s shelves for some dog-eared dad-rock ‘classics’. But if I want a collection that doesn’t stop resolutely in 1976 I may have to splash some cash.
So charity shops here I come. Get your tastelessly-covered, long-forgotten, under-appreciated 45s out and let’s be having them…