There’s a well-known story about  blind men describing an elephant. One grabs a hold of the trunk and says the elephant is like a great, hairy serpent. The second feels a hind leg and says the elephant is like a thick, sturdy tree. The third touches a tusk and declares the elephant is obviously very hard and smooth. To each of these three blind men, their perception is reality. Of course this holds true with how a Mobile DJ is perceived. In the following fiasco, the client perceives me as the guy who will keep his attendees entertained, the banquet captain and his staff as an obligatory inclusion mandated by the client, but making no contribution to the overall performance of their job, and then, there’s my perception. My perception of the elephant is a whole lot more, shall I say . . . perplexing.  After this particular incident occurred, I didn’t rant and rave, or grab a hold of the wall gasping for breath, but I did devote myself, into the wee hours of the morning, to composing a letter for the Conference Services Manager, in an attempt to diffuse the situation, be conciliatory, and remain in good graces with an important account.

My services were retained to provide the entertainment for a three hour, midweek, luau-themed celebration. The client expected me to follow up on my assurances that their conference attendees would be treated to a fun time. The format was simply a short cocktail reception, a buffet dinner, a period of interactive entertainment, followed by open dancing. I arrived plenty early and straightaway encountered my contact person with whom I had spoken so many times over the phone. She was engaged in trimming the stage area with luau decorations, and after a smiling exchange, I started to load in my equipment. While I was setting up, the Conference Service Manager, who had referred the client to my company, wanted to acquaint me with a “little bit of a touchy situation.” It seems the hotel had scheduled another meeting in the adjoining room who were having an awards presentation, and would it be okay if I kept the volume down during that time. Hearing this made me swallow hard, and I’m sure I looked awkward, but I agreed to comply the best I could. She assured me that their program would be over pretty early, probably before my client’s festivities would start, and we just left it at that.

As folks entered our room, they were presented with fancy leis. The majority of the people were middle-aged and older, and I greeted them with an unobtrusive cross section of “Island-flavored selections, adjusting the volume and tempo after delivering an informal announcement that they could proceed to the two-sided, double buffet at their convenience. During the meal, I casually walked around the room, cheerfully visiting with various tables. There was an overall comfortable feeling in the room and I felt confident and relaxed.

I heard about a somewhat impressive incident that was orchestrated by a fortunate mobile DJ—a great example of excellent timing. He describes how he spent several hours setting up a complete uplighting system in a fairly large room to demonstrate to an individual “what pictures cannot describe.” The effect was so impressive, she summoned the hotel manager and regional manager, who just happened to be in town, to check it out. They were both so happy with how their hotel’s banquet facility had been so beautifully transformed, they wanted to take pictures. Photos were taken to be shared with interested clients illustrating what could be done when employing creativity and skill. Of course, this fortunate mobile DJ would be referred to these clients as the source of this exquisite lighting, plus recommended as a proficient Disc Jockey for their event.

Here’s another incident, one that’s not so impressive. In the late ’90s, I had arranged to set up my newest lighting in a banquet room of a posh Myrtle Beach resort for a private photo shoot. I had enough of an “in” with the property to have them accommodate what was supposed to be a completely unobtrusive afternoon session. I hired a skilled photographer to take pictures and it was going to look GREAT with the lights dimmed and with fog accentuating the multicolored beams. Though I had been given the impression from the maintenance department that the smoke detector-alarm system was temporarily disabled in this particular room . . . it wasn’t. The unexpected and surprising result was fire alarms, a loud, authoritative, mechanized voice instructing everyone to leave the building, a large, in-house group involved in their afternoon session having to interrupt their proceedings and vacate the premises, fully-clad, equipment-laden, scowling, and overtly annoyed fire fighters arriving on the scene, one even carrying a huge axe. (Talk about intimidating.) AND, then the Hotel’s General Manager along with the brand new 6′ 6″ Food and Beverage Director, who I was yet to meet, bursting into the room with disbelief and fit to be tied! Embarrassing? Put it this way: I was so confused, shaken and scared, I must have resembled a whipped puppy with its tail between its legs. Though obviously irritated, The GM and F&B were somewhat relieved that it was ONLY me. But, man! Those fireman were peeved! And I never did get those photos.

I’ve been all for this since the mid 90′s. I predicted then that this day would come. No one wants to listen. Here is a post I wrote about this topic last year.

I had a Vision

In 1997, a few of us local deejays formed an association called tampaprodjs. This was before the merger with The ADJA.

In 1997 I stated to everyone in our organization that if we invited more Deejays to join and learn to become better Deejays, while it will help the deejays become better, it would also create a slew of new blood and the pricing war would begin. You can’t tell me that you learn a slew of new games, introduction techniques, etc and your calendar is open and bride calls you and you rave about all your new talent and offer a price of $500 to work one Saturday night when you just made that working a 40 hour week. You’d laugh all the way to the bank.

This is all due to the fact that No-ONE in our industry needs to be licensed and education is readily available for FREE!! Add all the tradeshows, lower priced equipment, DJ forums, free internet advertising, the popularity and coolness of being a jock has ruined the entire business when it comes to making a living. You take all the above add thousands more deejays and you simply have too much supply for the demand of business.

History Lesson – Here’s proof!

In 1982 while I was fresh out of high school, I begged a local company to hire me. At that time, there were only 2 companies. They were Sunset Entertainment and Sound Entertainment who later became the Pros who later split up to become several other companies including the FAME owner Rob Smith Productions.

They had to have a talent booking license to run an operation. Their primary source of advertising was the Yellow Pages. Remember them? Well to advertise your business in the directories back then, you needed to have a business telephone as well as an occupational license and state talent agent license which cost $1,200. In other words, you needed to spend a couple grand just to claim to offer a service. To drum up business, you advertised in the yellow pages at rate that was several hundred per month.

Guess how much we charged back in 1985? $400 to $800. You know how much I made per gig back then? $40. The Company I worked for (Sunset Entertainment) had 40 deejays working at least one gig per Saturday while the better ones worked several every weekend 52 weeks a year. I did this work because I loved it. Heck I had to buy all the latest 45’s to keep up with the music. I probably spent more money on records and gas then I did receive in pay. Now that’s doing it for the love.

This was long before Dual CD players, compact discs, Mobile Beat, ADJA, NAME, and everyone else pushing a product. Today they are charging the same and struggling to survive!

Changes Are Coming

At some point in the early 90’s, states eased the regulations and eliminated DJ companies from being required to have a talent license. Instead of $1,200 for a talent agent license, all you needed was a local city license for $50. Enter more deejay companies!

Fast forward to 1997; 10 years after I left the industry, I decided to get back into Deejaying. I needed gigs and I didn’t have any connections. The yellow pages would be my answer. To advertise in the books, I needed to have a business telephone (not cell or home phone) which costs more than a home line, a business license or corporation records. Once I got in the books, my phone was ringing and I booked hundreds of gigs the next 3 years. In 1997 I attended my first DJ conference. WOW! That was an eye opener! I realized then while watching Mark Weinstock that I was way down the scale compared to everyone else. I was in the audience in Vegas when Mark Ferrell was introduced. I took his MC workshop, I bought Randy’s 1% series. I have purchased Scott Favor‘s DVD’s; I attended the Minnesota, Dallas shows. But you know what? So have thousands of others!

The Internet

Take all these ideas and add the internet age and you now created a whole new animal. If you don’t believe there is more supply then demand, then type in your city and DJ. You now have 1000’s of self proclaimed disc jockeys ranging from bedroom hobbyist to fulltime professionals trying to make a living all wanting a prospect to click me. The vast majority are charging the same range. What’s a bride to do? Geez, go to craigslist and you can find a DJ for $250. He advertises he has 20 years experience, has 50 gazillion songs and questions them why pay more. What’s a bride to do?

A Fisherman’s Dream

The oceans are filled with millions of fish (deejays) there are only so many fishing lines being tossed into the waters. Unfortunately, you have starving fish begging for food and taking what they can bite into. However, since (part time) deejays don’t need a lot of money to survive (wife works-they work during the week, etc.) they continue to hang around in the waters and every once in awhile they catch some food.

Vendors – Are we really good enough?

I’ve asked vendors what they thought of us and most say were good. They will reference the occasional horror story but they are less frequent. My question to them is…what qualifies as good. Most answers are…be professional, show up on time, do what the bride asks, don’t piss my staff off. Don’t eat before the guests, have neat equipment, dress professionally. Notice they never mentioned talent.

Whose To Blame

So here we are 12 years later. We now have local and national organizations who want to help grow your business. We have access to chat rooms where you can get all the latest trends, games, and so much more all for free. We have access to trade publications, tradeshows and several sources for music including free ones. While we have grown by leaps and bounds as an industry, we still have along way to mature. Just read the mentality of most of the post on the chat boards.

What We Don’t Have

Is Protection from ourselves. Let’s face it; we all do this for the love of it. Otherwise we wouldn’t exist. Didn’t we all start doing this for fun and to land that first gig we gave our service away for next to nothing. Wasn’t it cool to say you’re a DJ? The fame the buzz the excitement after a gig! The problem we all face is now we realize we can make money at this and were all divided like sections of a pie as to how. Solutions?

Many of you including Drax will disagree with me.

I suggest two solutions:

1. A national certification that is beyond DJ101 like FAME offers. This would be a requirement to obtain a state license. Continuing education would be a requirement to stay licensed.

2. States get back to recognizing we are a legit business and start requiring and charging a realistic business licenses fee like that of a talent agent.

My guess is you would have the serious ante up to stay in business and the remaining 60% or so get out. Finally, Deejays would be forced to have a business plan and charge accordingly. Now the ocean isn’t filled with so many fish.

Will It work?

Twelve years have gone by since I thought of this. With the good Lord willing and the creek won’t rise…Ask me again in 2021.

Generally speaking, the most commonly held conception about a mobile DJ is: someone who sets up some speakers and then plays music. Hey, I hear some music. Oh, over there near all that sound equipment stuff. That guy must be the DJ. This isn’t difficult to understand. Why should it be? Sure, folks like us making a living in the Mobile DJ Profession, might refer to ourselves as “Trained Music Hosts,” “Party Facilitators,” “Disc Jockey/Master of Ceremonies,” “DJ Entertainers,” “Skilled Motivators,” etc., etc. We  live and breathe all the multifarious facets that contribute to our professional presentations. But, the average person, doesn’t. Even the average, intelligent person doesn’t. They don’t think about, music programming, mixing, staging, or the ebb and flow of a room’s energy and response. They don’t think about effective placement of equipment, sound quality, or optimum levels of volume. Nor do they think about microphone skills, or what goes into serving as a professional and proficient Master of Ceremonies.

Some years back at a bridal show, I met the Food and Beverage Director for the new, five-star Myrtle Beach Radisson Convention Center Hotel. I would have been eager to make a good impression on anyone in this position, but especially on this particular individual who was strikingly beautiful—a tall, captivating, blond woman with a confident bearing, sparkling blue eyes and a warm smile. I introduced myself, gave her my card and asked if it would be okay to call for an appointment to, so to speak, “show her my wares.” She graciously agreed and said she looked forward to meeting with me. Our meeting started out with general chitchat, and I was instantly impressed with her enthusiasm and with her insight into the challenges and possibilities she faced as the F&B of such a large hotel. She was such a stunning lady too—beautiful-looking and intelligent. Additionally, she was very easy to talk to, the kind of person who gives the impression they are genuinely interested in what you have to say. After the initial, friendly, getting-acquainted-session, I felt it was time to segue into a presentation of the ways my company approaches DJ entertainment. At the outset, she revealed she already had some experience with another company in the area. (Ouch! I knew this company and they fit Bill Limbach’s Bottom Feeder description to a Tee!) She then proceeded to pretty much lay out what she liked about them. They arrived on time, seemed to sound okay, and she never received any complaints. Of course that summed up the most simplistic standards and minimal expectations possible. But, okay. I was there to share, and I proceeded with a slide show presentation which was aimed at educating folks about what we provide from an entertainment standpoint, and how we go the extra mile to assure clients will be well-pleased. I delivered the presentation with joyful enthusiasm, replete with photo illustrations, edifying explanations, and glowing testimonies. I went the whole nine yards and really felt I was articulately expanding new Disc Jockey-related horizons for her. My perception was, she was happily drinking it all in. I left feeling I had made an attractive friend who was eager to use our company as her prime DJ resource. Nope. To this day, though she’s at an entirely different and much smaller venue, she continues to refer her clients to the guy who “seemed to sound okay,” and also another guy who, at least in my opinion is, at best, just mediocre. I still think she’s intelligent and a wonderful individual. The guys she refers are nice guys, and we’re on her vendor list too. Some of our company’s associates have performed at her venue and report she was appreciative. But to her, it appears the DJ is still merely there just to set up some speakers and then play music. C’est la vie.

I’m a skinny guy. Spindly. The only muscles I have come from lugging, and setting up my DJ gear, which at the time of this writing, I’m happy to report, I’m still young and fit enough to do without hiring a roadie. As long as I can remember, I’ve been impressed with the big, heavyweight, wrestler types. Man, if I looked like that, I bet it would enhance my ability to command and maintain folks’ attention as an M.C. Well, anyway, it wouldn’t hurt.

Some years back, while bringing in equipment for a wedding reception, at the Grande Dunes Ocean Club in Myrtle Beach, I met one of the guests who had arrived early. This guy was huge. He looked like he could effectively wrestle a bear, and like usual, I was impressed. Seeing me, he asked if this is where the reception would be, and we entered into a short, casual conversation. I found out he was from Chicago, and inquiring what he did for a living up there, I commented how he looked like he could be a wrestler or a bouncer or something. He just smiled and said he worked in an office for some corporation or other. Through the years, I’ve found most big, muscular folks to be really nice—mostly soft-spoken and polite. Generally, my impression is they’re also often kind of reserved at parties, not much into dancing. Later, as I expected, when it was time for open dancing. this big guy just stood on the sidelines with a bottle of beer and watched.

Overall, the guests responded to the music with enthusiasm, and the dance floor remained well-populated. Much of the music was programmed to appeal to a large percentage of the dancing attendees who were in their late thirties and early forties. We had just gotten through the Village People’s “Y.M.C.A.” (126 bpm) which was on the bride and groom’s “Must Play” list. From “Y.M.C.A.” I overlaid the Gap Band’s “You Dropped a Bomb on Me (126 bpm) and the dance floor was filled. While the Gap Band was playing, three things occurred to me: 1) the groom had requested that I make use of party props to enhance the fun during open dancing. 2) I hadn’t as of yet played AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long” (126 bpm), also on the “Must Play” list. 3) Our large friend from Chicago would be a perfect candidate to utilize as a really cool contribution to the excitement. Quickly, I pumped up a full-sized, inflatable guitar. Grabbing it and a pair of Blues Brothers sun glasses, I rushed over to the mellow giant, looking on from the periphery. Hurriedly, I let him know that coming up next was some AC/DC, and that he should put on the shades, take the guitar, and when the song kicked in, just hit the dance floor and do whatever he liked. All I knew was he took the props giving me a shy, noncommittal smile. I had no time for gentle persuasion, because “You Dropped a Bomb on Me” was nearing the end and I had to rush back over to my console.

Grande Dunes Ocean Club, Myrtle Beach

Like I expected, as I segued into AC/DC, a joyful response could be felt from the dancers. What I didn’t expect were the excited cheers erupting from the side of the dance floor which enjoyed the addition of the hulking rocker, enthusiastically playing the air guitar along to “You Shook Me All Night Long!” The great, big guy really seemed to be having a lot of fun, and his performance on the dance floor was definitely a great, big hit! You never know.

Here in the Myrtle Beach Area, January is a notoriously slow month for disc jockey engagements, so when in October of ’06  I got a call for a wedding to be held right in town at Wild Wing Plantation on the first Saturday of January, I was eager to pursue a booking. Happily, the Father of the Bride seemed equally as eager to retain my services, and arrangements were made to implement the planning process with his daughter, Madison, who lived out of town. In the weeks ahead, I enjoyed several telephone consultations with Madison, finding her to be sweet, enthusiastic, and very easy to talk to. Before the start of the Christmas Holidays, what she chose to include and the sequence of events for her reception were well-defined and clearly laid out on the pages of the Reception Planning Form. The blueprint for her wedding celebration bore all the signs of a fun-filled, fine time, and I looked forward to assuring her agenda would flow smoothly and her guests would be entertained in accordance with her wishes. I was in for a little, unexpected surprise.

On the day of the wedding, I arrived early at Wild Wing and proceeded to get myself positioned and ready. While setting up, the banquet manager came over to say hi and cheerfully commented how she wondered what it was going to be like to have the film crew from “Bridezilla” at this wedding. “What!?” No I hadn’t been told that WeTV’s production team would be shooting an episode for “Bridezilla!” Shouldn’t someone have let me in on this? As I was finishing my setup, about eight guys dressed in black arrived and started positioning tripods around the room. They seemed harried, like they were under the gun or something, and their presence in the banquet hall made me feel a bit unnerved. Adding to my uneasiness, a minute later, a lady approached me, introduced herself as one of the coordinators for the filming, and informed me that I was required to come with her so I could sign a release, giving WeTV permission to shoot me. I obliged her, though I was steadily growing increasingly leery. How is all of this going to effect the atmosphere during the reception’s festivities, and how is it going to effect . . . me? Oh well, nothing to do now but go with it. What would Madison be getting out of this anyway—besides being on television? The coordinator let me know: she’d be winning a free honeymoon in Jamaica.

As the guests started to arrive and settle into cocktail time, I identified the minister, Jack, who had served as the officiant and who, according to the planning sheets, was the individual giving the blessing. Jack was very happy to meet me. He wanted to know if he could get a microphone and say a few words before the Grand Entrance? I was okay with this. What could the wedding ceremony’s officiant and Madison’s family’s minister possibly say that would be inappropriate or counterproductive? With the playlist of background music on autopilot, and for the moment, putting the still bustling film crew out of my mind, I proceeded to station myself in the lobby overlooking the building’s entrance. This way I could catch the immanent  arrival of the bridal party in their limousines, be there to welcome them, see if there was anything they needed, and eventually position them in readiness for their entrance.

As limousines pulled up and folks in gowns and tuxedos began to emerge, cameramen and sound technicians descended on the scene. The first thing I noticed was how the bridesmaids appeared to be on edge. Their faces were drawn and they hovered together nervously by the rear door of the limousine where Madison was still seated. Apparently, she was upset about something or other and seemed to be refusing to come out. When the door did finally open, there she was, with tears rolling down her cheeks, peering out at the cameras and her bridesmaids. After what appeared to be a measured pause, she tightened her lips stepped out of the limo and huffed over to her mother, demanding to know if the cake was decorated the way they wanted. I’m thinking to myself, this is not the same person I’ve been speaking with, and this is just some kind of act on her part for the benefit of the show. I gently got her attention and let her know I’d be lining everyone up just as soon as she is ready. She gave me the go ahead and in accordance with the planning sheets, I assembled everyone by the entrance, got them in order and started my coaching process, detailing how to enter, where to go, and what to expect. All the while, two large cameras and an enormous microphone on a long, handheld boom are catching everything that’s taking place. I then inform the assemblage that after some special remarks by the minister, I’ll be getting the room ready to receive them and welcome everyone to the wedding celebration. I continue to explain that soon after, they’ll hear a whole lot of cheering. When they do, they should listen for their names and make their entrances as we planned.

Back inside, I ready the music for the Grand Entrance and present Jack with a microphone so he can say what he planned to say. While he is speaking I decide to make a quick, final check on the bridal party and discover they’re all in a dither. Seeing me, Madison, true to her Bridezilla role, frantically blurts out that we’re making some changes. We need to change the order! In my hands I have the Reception Planning Form, which is opened to the Grand Entrance. I take out a pen and ask what I need to adjust. She then proceeds not only to change the order, but give me additional people as well. Mind you, I’m already sweating under my arms because of all the tension I feel, with the cameramen stationed in six different parts of the banquet hall and Jack delivering some kind of unexpected speech. Now I have to hand write changes on the concisely-formatted page containing everyone’s phonetically-spelled names, which are neatly aligned for exact pronunciation and a precise presentation. After crossing out this one’s name and moving it to a different part of the page, and drawing arrows to pair this individual with a different person, and even squeeze in a new couple as a last-minute addition, the once clearly-presented page of names with corresponding titles and descriptions resembles a cross section between a doodle pad and a complicated road map. As I try to read this frightening-looking paper, I attempt to maintain my composure, which I feel quickly slipping away. While reading out the names to line everyone up for the second time, to my shock, I hear Jack loudly informing everyone inside, “We will now introduce the wedding party!” But Jack! No! Not ready yet! I’m not even inside! In dismay, I tell the confused-looking bridal party to just wait for their names to be called.

I have to confess, what happened next is kind of a blur. I know the experience of a long, untimely, pregnant pause like this one is not conducive to any kind of reassuring comfort or favorable impression. I know that in front of those TV cameras and the attendees, I was visibly shaken, that as I took the microphone, my mouth was disconcertingly dry and my voice was thin and practically devoid of expression. I honestly don’t remember how back at my console, clutching that sheet of names with all its sloppy alterations, I got through the introductions. What I do remember is hating to think how this could or would ever be featured on national television!

Ouch! While using squeaky clean, “school-edited” material, is it possible to feel like a programming genius and God’s Gift to School DJs, and suddenly be commanded to immediately stop what you’re doing and drastically change your approach?

Most mobile DJs love what they do and feel they have a wonderful profession. I concur. However, sometimes this job is just plain crazy—seriously crazy! Here’s a description of an event for a gathering of students from three Florence, SC area high schools who were members of a YWCA-sponsored service group. This post is not so much a story to entertain folks outside the DJ Industry, but to share a particular incident that mobile jocks might find both interesting and peculiar—one that makes me wince when I recall what was said to me, as I shake my head in disbelief.

After a a 90 minute drive, I arrived at my destination, a rather ramshackle high school, with plenty of time to get the lay of the land and set up. Backing my van into position by the entrance, I entered the old gym to case the space and ascertain what gear I’d need to bring in to make this work. The first thing I noticed was what had been placed as a cover over practically the entire floor—rubbery, plastic tarps, connected together and held in place by thin strips of black duct tape. This, of course, was the dance area, and this was the only way the athletic department would acquiesce to allow 300 high school kids to have a dance on their gymnasium floor. Back in the 50′s and early 60′s, these kind of gatherings were called Sock Hops and attendees would take off their shoes to preserve the gym’s floor. Well, this was no Sock Hop, and I’m scratching my head. How are folks supposed to dance on these spread-out tarps which were bound to slide and give way when subjected to a lot of movement? Oh well, not my concern. I just hoped the way the floor was covered wouldn’t be a deterrent to the students allowing themselves to dance. In case you’re thinking that’s what was crazy, no. Participation on the dance floor wasn’t the problem. Well, not exactly.

The staff from the ‘Y’ running the dance were friendly, though, not surprisingly, wanted to reconfirm that the music would be “clean.” I assured the head lady that the selections were edited, even beyond the versions the kids hear on the radio. (After all, this is the Bible Belt.) Judging from what they saw at their last dance, they remarked how the students love the fun line dances, and I told them we’d undoubtedly get into all that after most everyone arrived and the dancing commenced.

Like most teen parties, the students started slowly, dribbling in, getting a feel of the room’s layout and congregating with small groups of friends. I just played some incidental, slow dance, R&B ranging from as far back as three years ago to current,  providing a little background until more folks arrived. After 15 minutes, about 1/4 of the students had arrived. A small body of girls, about five in number, tentatively walked over to me. I greeted them, letting them know I was very approachable. Their collective query was whether or not I had any, what they referred to as, fast Hip Hop. I told them sure and wanted to find out what they specifically had in mind. They asked for “Low” by Flo-Rida. I proceeded to fade out the slow background music, got on the mike and welcomed everybody to their party. I told them who I was, that it was my pleasure to be there, to let me know what they’d like to hear, and that we just had a request for this. I then turned up the volume, went into “Low,” and a throng of about 20 girls proceeded to giggle and dance out in the middle of the gym. To me this was a promising development. With this kind of initial action, and at this tempo, we were in a very happy place to work up a mounting room-wide response. I figure “Low” is at 129 bpm, which puts it right there amidst a slew of modern dance selections that are, or were recently, huge hits (at the time of this writing)—very well received and lots of fun! Usually, with dances like this, it takes me a bit longer to get the  dance floor substantially populated, and the little throng was steadily growing. Cool. So measuring their reactions, I mixed into, the Black-Eyed Peas, “I Gotta Feeling” (128.5 bpm). Immediately there was a welcome response. They were even singing. I then went into Sean Paul’s “Temperature” (128.5 bpm). More excitement and the throng’s becoming pretty large. A girl is running over and excitedly asks for, Miley Cyrus’ “Party in the USA.” Well okay, why not? This is a four hour engagement and I’ll have plenty of opportunities to get back to that slew of tempo-related party songs. “Party in the USA” kicks in and the girls erupt into cheers and now there’s about 100 folks out there dancing and singing. Going well, right? Okay, it was.

Looking back at the Log File from this event, I am able to see what was played, and when. At 40 minutes into the party I was back up to 129 bpm playing PitBull’s “I Know You Want Me,” leading into a request for Jay Sean’s “Down” (132.5 bpm). We were having fun. There was a good representation of modern selections and the students were happy and impressed, obviously a really good group. After responding to a request for one of “the fun line dances,” I mixed in Casper’s “Cha Cha Slide” and the dance floor was totally packed out. The group’s advisor came over to me and remarked, “What a great job you’re doing.”

The party continued to go exceedingly well. An hour and fifteen minutes into the engagement, with the proceedings moving merrily along, I was programming viable dance music requests into the mix. The following sequence of songs lead up to a scenario that’s got to be about the most befuddling and unpredictable of any I’ve encountered in over thirty years of entertaining.

It started with a request for Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Sweet Home Alabama” (98 bpm), quite a departure from the previously requested New Boyz “You’re a Jerk” (99 bpm). Half way through, something indecipherable began to swell in volume from the dance floor—some kind of chant. One of the student’s approached me and let me know what the clamor was, “Sandstorm! Sandstorm!” Interesting idea, so during the last instrumental interlude of Skynyrd, I segued into Da Rude’s “Sandstorm” (136.5 bpm). This was instantly met with robust cheers. When the percussion kicked in, I set the LED Par Cans to a strobing effect, and a hundred guys and many of the girls started a joyful jumping to the beat. As the percussion subsided, I overlaid the intro to Quad City DJ’s “C’mon Ride the Train,” (136.5 bpm). They took the cue and started their own high energy party train! Next programmed request was for Sugar Hill Gang’s “Jump On It” (“Apache”). Since I thought it would be cool to overlay the percussive intro, even though there was a good deal of disparity between the two tempos, I pushed up Sugar Hill’s bpm and started punching in forecasts to where we were going. Some of the gals caught this and started squealing approval. After kicking into “Apache” and sliding the tempo back down to 116 bpm, it was impressive to see the extent these teenagers knew the “Jump On It” routine. They even joyously yelled out some of their own words, in unison, during the two instrumental measures leading up to the “Apache, jump on it” lyrics. On the request list was Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” (119 bpm) so after three “jump on it” choruses, I brought that in. With the girls in the YWCA service group, we had a whole chorus line of well-choreographed dance moves—very entertaining! This party was sensational, and my obvious intention was to ride upon and perpetuate this wave of high-energy fun. So, in order to give it a further boost, I looped the first two measures of  Ying Yang Twin’s “Shake It” (119 bpm) towards the end and on top of “Thriller,” and when the song kicked in full tilt, the energy reached a fever pitch. From the most dense area in the middle of the dance floor, every now and again you’d see a smaller male student lifted over head and passed around, but something else must have been brewing amidst the thicket of teenage revelling in the middle of the gymnasium. I had been leading up to the last of the requests of this dance segment, Ke$ha’s “TiK ToK” (120 bpm), and I perceived a surge of appreciation when it was added to the mix. Whatever went down out there, as the dance floor continued to percolate, must have happened between Ying Yang Twins and Ke$ha, because during the very last song of this segment, Flor-Rida’s “In the Ayer” (129 bpm), I was approached by the group’s advisor with a rather stern injunction to stop playing all this back to back “grinding music.” When she said this, I pointed out that currently, the assemblage had their hands in the air, and no grinding was going on. She explained that something needed to stop and I needed to change the music. I responded that all I was doing with the music was maintaining the level of participation and excitement, i.e. the fun, and if it would help, the next song I was going to play was “Carolina Girls” by the Chairman of the Board. She walked away, seemingly perturbed, and during this innocuous Carolina Beach Music selection, the floor was still thickly packed with teenagers either dancing the SC State Dance, “The Shag” or just moving happily to the music. I was soon approached by a different advisor. She said, we gotta do something to get the students to quit being in one big group in the middle of the gym, and that I should put on a slow song. Bewildered, I asked her if putting on a slow song would keep them from being out there or would they just be out there dancing to a slow song. She walked off and the first advisor came back. This time she let me know it had been reported that one of the girls out there had removed her panties! Flabbergasted, I stated that it wasn’t because of the music. I was just playing what the students would respond to. She retorted with, ” The students aren’t paying you. We’re paying you.” You need to play something they won’t respond to so much.” My reaction was to ask her if she actually wanted me to play songs that would keep the kids from getting out there and dance. She said something to the effect that that wouldn’t be a bad idea. Experiencing what we refer to here as a major DJ Disconnect, I then told her that she should have hired an entry level guy who didn’t know what to play from one moment to the next. I was sorry that some girl had removed her undies, I would put on a slow song, and then play The Village People’s “Y.M.C.A.” She kind of chuckled when I said “undies” and told me to, yes, play the Y.M.C.A. and walked away.

The staff commenced to patrol the floor. I carried on, still playing requests, though endeavoring to stay away from playing a back to back series of the more “risque” though thoroughly school-edited versions of hip-hop. We later went into the “Electric Slide,” “The Chang Wang,” “The Mississippi Slide,” “The Cupid Shuffle,” and “The Macarena.” There were no more panty-removing instances, (that I knew about) and though the level of energy never did quite return to its zenith, we did have a rather energetic response when I replayed another request for Miley Cyrus’ “Party in the USA.” (See the very top photo taken at that time.)

Generalized, Mixed Crowd, Mean Age-Range 25-35 Years Old

(“Hip Hop”)

Usher’s “Yeah” (105 bpm) /

Petey Pablo’s “Freek -a-Leek” (105 bpm) /

Run DMC’s “Walk This Way” (105 bpm) /

Nelly’s Hot in Herre” (106.5 bpm) //

Generalized, Mixed Crowd, Mean Age-Range 25-35 Years Old

(“Hip Hop”)

Lil’ Jon’s “Get Low” (101 bpm) /

DMX’s “Party Up” (101.5 bpm) /

Ying Yang Twin’s “Salt Shaker” (101 bpm) /

Ying Yang Twin’s “Whisper Song” (102 bpm) /

Missy Elliot’s “Work It” (102 bpm) /

ODB’s “Got Your Money” (103.5 bpm) /

Wrechx-N-Effect’s “Rump Shaker” (103 bpm) //

Generalized, Mixed Crowd, Mean Age-Range 20-35 Years Old

A Small Slew of Modern “Hip Hop” Selections (Including Some “Old School Hip Hop”) in the High 120′s and Low 130′s BPM

Flo-Rida’s “Low” (129 bpm)

Sean Paul’s “Temperature” (128.5 bpm)

Pitbull’s “Hotel Room Service” (127 bpm)

Black Eyed Peas’ “Boom, Boom, Pow”  (130 bpm)

Flo-Rida’s “In the Ayer” (129 bpm)

Fergie’s “Fergalicious” (129 bpm)

Fergie’s “Glamorous” (131 bpm)

Jay Sean’s “Down” (132.5 bpm)

Tag Team’s “Whoomp There It Is” (129 bpm)

Pitbull’s “I Know You Want Me” (129 bpm)

David Guetta’s “Sexy Chic (131 bpm)

Baha Men’s “Who Let the Dogs Out” (130 bpm)

Missy Elliot’s “Lose Control” (126.5 bpm)

Black Eyed Peas’ “I Gotta Feelin’”  (128.5 bpm)

Run DMC’s “It’s Tricky” (128.5 bpm)

Generalized, Mixed Crowd, Mean Age-Range 30-40 Years Old

Sugar Hill Gang’s “Apache” (116 bpm) /

Vanilla Ice’s “Ice, Ice Baby” ( 116 bpm) /

Young MC’s “Bust a Move” (117 bpm) /

Ton Loc’s “Funky Cold Medina” (117.5 bpm) //

Generalized, Mixed Crowd, Mean Age-Range 35-45 Years Old

Kool and the Gang’s “Get Down On It” (111 bpm) /

Sugar Hill Gang’s “Rapper’s Delight” (111.5 bpm) /

[Chic's "Good Times" (112.5 bpm) title lyric periodically superimposed on the 4th beat]

Rob Base’s ” It Takes Two” (112.5 bpm) /

Aretha Franklin’s “Respect” (112.5 bpm) /

Cheryl Lynn’s “To Be Real” (115 bpm) //

Generalized, Mixed Crowd, Mean Age-Range 35-45 Years Old

Elvis Presley’s “Can’t Help Falling In Love With You” (66.5 bpm)/

Temptation’s “My Girl” (104 bpm) /

Bee Gees’ “Stayin’ Alive) (104 bpm) /

Marcia Griffith’s ” Electric Boogie”  (109 bpm) /

Wild Cherry’s “Play That Funky Music” (109.5 bpm) /

Commodores’ “Brick House” (108.5 bpm) /

Will Smith’s “Gettin Jiggy With It” (108 bpm) //

So, okay, now where should we put the DJ? Wait a minute. Do we have any room left? Gees, I wonder how much room he really needs? Does he have to be near anything? Hey! Here’s a place. We can put him behind the refrigerator. There’s not a whole lotta room, but he’s got a socket to plug into. Okay. This should be fine. Hey Madge? Are you done with the veggie trays?

On our contracts, we have a little clause in the Special Instructions that reads: “The Artist will be set up in direct proximity to and with an unimpeded view of the dance floor.” I remember one particular backyard wedding reception that stands out, though the Purchaser was in complete compliance with this simple directive. There was nothing between the outdoor canopy where I was to set up my table, and the dance “area,” a patch of lawn about twenty feet away. The house was right near the beach and though the ground I was on was a little soggy and uneven, the setting was really quite pleasant. But, there was one, teeny-tiny distraction. Three feet away from the canopy, someone had scattered heaps of what could only be the remains of hundreds of shrimp that had been peeled in preparation for the wedding feast and was now merrily decomposing in the sun. It stunk. It stunk continually. In other words, they assigned the DJ an area that reeked of rotting seafood garbage. Well, one consolation was, the stench didn’t always permeate the DJ area with the same overwhelming severity. Occasionally, a welcome, little breeze would blow from the opposite direction, dissipate the smell, and provide a moment of relief.

Editor’s Note: The routine described (for those who care to orchestrate it) can work really well. The photos included herein are a transparent attempt to pretentiously brag about this, as well as testify to the routine’s apparent success. Things can backfire, so please read on.

As a mobile DJ, I admittedly love to provide the grounds for folks to participate in the entertainment and get out there, allowing themselves to have fun. I assume to varying extents, when serving as a party host, many of us DJs feel some semblance of pride when we can “get it on” at a party—control the room, maintain the focus, pack the floor. Whenever I can do this well, obviously due to some form of basic insecurity, my ego notoriously rears its head and endeavors to stake a claim in how wonderful a thing this is. It shouts out to any and all, “Look what’s happening, Look what I’ve accomplished! Acknowledge me! I am undoubtably a phenomenal success! See me! Agree with me!  Whoopee! High five!”

click images for larger view

Nowhere in my repertoire of interactive routines does this manifest as noticeably as when I can stage a well-executed “Shoulder Rub Party Start.” I learned this from the DJ industry’s good friend, Scott Faver. With all the various techniques employed to get folks from their seats en masse up on the dance floor, to me, this is about the quickest way to create a big splash and make fun happen. Essentially, what this process accomplishes is getting everybody to share a rather unique opportunity wherein they all stand up, make one big circle and then are charmed into participating in a room-wide conga line which is subsequently “knit” onto the dance floor. Like all worthwhile routines, bringing off an effective “Shoulder Rub Party Start” requires preparation, careful staging, confidence, and lots of practice. But, even when you think you’ve covered all the bases, a facilitator might still encounter hidden pitfalls, which can throw monkey wrenches of various sizes into the works!

I remember it well, Saturday, January 10, 2004, at the brand new Myrtle Beach Marriott Resort. My services were retained by Ryan’s Steakhouse for their annual, regional meeting. This was only the second function this beautiful hotel was accommodating, and I really wanted to make a big impression on their staff, and especially on the Food & Beverage Director who was empowered to make decisions regarding what direction to take for their outdoor pool side entertainment. It’s been my experience that trying to impress a potential decision maker, while he’s on the job working for the venue where the event is taking place, is blatantly a hit or miss proposition. Most of the time they’re way too busy to take in anything that definitely portrays your presentation in a positive light, or whenever the event is going exactly the way you’d like them to see it going, they’re out of the room and miss the whole thing. This was not the case that evening!

Myrtle Beach Marriott, 1/10/04

There he was, leaning against the wall at the front of the room, right near where I was set up, and right on time to observe how I was going to get the party started. I was thinking how cool an opportunity this was. What great timing! My intentions were to display how smoothly and impressively I was going to single-handedly transform the room from a scene where the 150 attendees were at their tables chatting with one another, into a major party where the overwhelming majority of these attendees would be up on the floor dancing. And so I proceeded with the “Shoulder Rub Party Start.” And it was going well. Everyone was up in the circle, not knowing what to expect, and we went right into the routine—massaging the person’s shoulders on the right and left, dropping arms and turning to the right, and putting hands on the hips of the person in front of you. I remember the Food & Beverage Director was taking it all in. Great! Now to start the conga line! As the music kicked in, I broke into the circle and would now lead everybody around at the head of the line, veering off, out of the circle and onto the dance floor. I’m thinking, just wait until I have them all woven onto the dance floor! What an impressive scene that’s going to be! I caught the eye of the man I wanted to impress, and he’s still keenly looking on with interest, but what’s this? He’s starting to look a little confused, even embarrassed. Why is he turning away? That’s when, to my chagrin, I realized that the only person following me was the lady who I broke in front of. The gal who had been behind her had nervously continued following everybody else, all of whom were still in one gigantic circle going nowhere. To make matters worse, when the two of us caught up with that gal, who was now about ten feet away, she stubbornly refused to leave the apparent security of the circle and follow the person behind me. I finally approached a guy nearby who consented to break away from “the herd” and those behind him followed suit. Whoa! Not the impression I wanted to give.