Something Special

Thoughts from behind the booth. Jes Grew. May 23rd. Atlanta, GA.

I admire the smiling faces set aglow by the flashing lights. I smile at the admiration everybody shares as they sway and jive and shuffle and dance. For the last two hours, Byron The Aquarius dragged dancers into the deep end, weaving everybody who came into one cohesive body. Whether they came alone or in groups, by the time Byron was done playing, everybody on that dance floor moved together, flowing gracefully and uniformly like a school of fish.

I check my watch. 1:15 a.m. I’m set to follow up. Tough act to follow. I’m on closing duties, which means playing the delicate game of keeping the party going whilst steering the party to its inevitable end. Naturally, the closing DJ ends with fewer people than they started with. Feet begin to grow sore, and stomachs begin to growl; thus, people begin leaving. It’s paramount that one does not take that personally and even more important that one doesn’t ramp up the energy as a last-chance effort to make people stay. Convincing aching bodies to move is a balancing act. Whereas opening is convincing people to begin to move, closing requires you to convince people to keep moving until the end.

I begin with ‘Even In Your Heart’ by Reek0—an even-keeled deep tune with a thick bass line and playful percussion. There’s a snappy clave that perforates through the mix and sits above a steady synth melody. It’s also quite a long song, so I have lots of time to think about my next selection. There’s a loose idea in my head of what songs to play, but I first have to get a feel for what is going to keep people moving for the rest of the night. A foundation needed to be set before I even tried to breach higher energy levels, so I look for another track with light percussion and heavy bass to pulsate through the dance floor.

I land on ‘In the Spirit (83 West Vocal Mix)’ by DJ Romain. The track before had a bouncy bass line, but this one is a bit more bubbling. ‘In the Spirit’ has a gospel organ lead that sends waves of energy as a voice preaches about a spirit reaching deep into his soul. I take a peek at the crowd, and they’re moving with authority. Teeming with energy. I’m two tracks away from bursting them at the seams. The first needed a bit more swing and melody to it. The second needed space and bass to shake ’em loose.

I choose ‘Bump ‘N’ Hustle (Mount Rushmore Attack The Track Mix)’ by Metropolis for the first track. It’s a classic ’90s house track composed of a funky chord progression on a fuzzy synth and swinging percussion that provide the movement I’m looking for. The percussion is steady enough to keep a groove but loose enough for it to not feel formulaic. The crowd was into it, but I wanted to send that surge I had been planning. I cut the bass from the first track and bring in the booming kick drums of ‘Mary Mary’.

‘Mary Mary’ by Grand High Priest is a track that needs ample time to breathe. The ‘Ha’ sample is featured in it and, whenever played, typically generates a nice response from the crowd. Including tonight. A few hoots are made in response to the call of iconic ear candy. Then the bass of ‘Mary Mary’ elicits some hollers. The cherry on top comes from the voice of a gospel singer. Blue lights flicker and strobe as the crowd goes into a frenzy. The hoots and hollers follow the rhythm and become an added element to the track.

We’ve reached a peak. I decide to stall before leaving the summit. Let’s enjoy the view for a beat. Soon I’ll have to begin the venture back down into deeper valleys. The party ends in an hour, and even though the energy is mighty high, I can tell the edges of the dance floor are beginning to thin, and I need to begin a gentle descent to send everybody off gracefully.

I want to tease some disco to test if that direction is desired by the remaining dancers. I play one of my favorite Jamie 3:26 songs, ‘BeeSting’. The core groove of ‘BeeSting’ is steady and locked in, but it has these sampled vocals, pianos, and flutes that fly in and out. Almost like a bee buzzing by you. People are stomping militantly along to the beat. I cut the low end and let the marching feet replace the kick drum.

We’ve stayed at the summit for long enough. It’s time for a comedown. So I choose the aptly named ‘Sweet Cum Down’ by Mr. K’Alexi Shelby. The song is layered with sounds of a thunderstorm, and the babbling flute mimics the sound of the running water that’s also sprinkled throughout the track. I think about letting it play a little longer, but as I’m scrolling for tracks on the CDJ, I see ‘I Think of Saturday’ by Moodymann, and instinct tells me, “Play it now.” The brief lull from ‘Sweet Cum Down’ gives ‘I Think of Saturday’ the chance to send another surge through the crowd. ‘I Think of Saturday’ has a post-disco, synth-pop, Prince-esque feel to it, and I want to use that as a starting point to go into a classic disco track. I had tagged Donna Summer’s ‘Could It Be Magic’ some minutes before but knew I needed just one more song for it to have its full effect.

I use another Jamie 3:26 favorite of mine—‘Magnifique’—as the glue to stick the two songs together. A transition to set up another transition. Using a track for the sole purpose of transitioning into another track is a trick I picked up on from hearing Ron Pullman play. He, and many other deep house DJs (especially those in ATL) frequently mix in songs that act more like segues than stopping points. It isn’t long into ‘Magnifique’ until I begin mixing in ‘Could It Be Magic’. I cut the bass from both songs to allow for Donna Summer’s sweet voice to ring through the mix for a few beats before bringing in the low end of ‘Could It Be Magic’. As soon as the bass booms through, the room is filled with magic. Orange lights glow and illuminate all of the smiling faces that I smile back at. I take a beat to enjoy being here with people before I retreat back to the screen of the CDJ to look for another song.

I’m indecisive. Not sure which way to go. I check my watch. Just over 30 minutes left in the party. I assess the crowd. Not enough people to uphold more energy. At least not this type of energy. I need to keep this groove but shift the battlefield to something less dramatic than disco. I find it’s more fun for both myself and the crowd to go through drastic jumps in energy rather than prolonged periods of high energy. That’s how you plateau.

I like to use juxtaposition to exaggerate the jumps in energy, so after ‘Could It Be Magic’, I play ‘No Place Like Home’ by Scan 7—a textbook Detroit techno song whose crisp percussion, gargling bass line, and arpeggiated synths pull the energy down a few notches while still whipping dancers into shape.

The track is coming to its end, and as I look up, I can see the back of the venue through the crowd and know firmly the night is quickly approaching its end. I also realize I’ve only played four-to-the-floor tracks the whole night, so I throw a slight curveball in the form of a broken beat edit of Stevie Wonder’s ‘You’ve Got It Bad Girl’ titled ‘Got It Good Brukt’. The skippy drum pattern is a brief relief from the constant groove that has been going on and there’s enough bass to shake the room. Too much bass frankly. It’s overbearing for the thinned-out crowd. There aren’t enough bodies in the room to absorb all that low end, so I turn the master volume down before mixing into the melodic and calming deep house track by Rick Wade titled ‘Summer Nights’, which samples ‘Summer Madness’ by Kool and The Gang.

I began with roughly 100 people on the floor. Now only 40 or so remain. I want to firmly ground people in the moment to make leaving seem like a not-so-appealing option. The song I choose to play next can dictate if the remaining dancers decide to stay or call it quits. I play ‘Je Ka Jo’ by Joe Claussell. The entire track is lined with diasporic drums—no bass line, no synth, no vocals; just straight percussion. Percussion grounds people.

As the drums get more frantic, the lighting guy, Zep, cuts all lights, and for a few moments, I can’t see the few faces in front of me. I feel like I am in the forest. Suddenly, a few cheers and shouts start coming from the crowd, and what was supposed to be a moment of grounding ends turns into another surge of energy. A smile draws wide across my face because I know those stomping feet are firmly planted in that room.

Everybody there, including myself, has poured everything they had into the previous hours. There is nothing left. I feel it. I need to fill everybody’s soul with something soft but energetic to subtly distract them from how tired they are. I play ‘As The Sun’ by John Beltran next, and as the guitar plucks at everybody’s heartstrings, the lighting guy fills the room with pulsating orange lights.

Earlier in the night, I instructed Zep to bring in orange lights for soulful tracks and blue lights for deeper and more electronic tracks. He looked at me with a confused understanding and nodded. I nodded back at him but left the exchange unsure if he knew what I meant. I begin to hear the oh’s and ah’s and wow’s over the mix while ‘As the Sun’ floats on. People are in awe of how in sync the lights and the music are. I guess he got the message.

We are entrenched in the moment. I drive us further into the deep end with Trinidadiandeep’s ‘Balls Deep’, using it only as a transition track before going into ‘Like Ours’ by Tom and Julie—the first song to include any words in the last 15 minutes. ‘Like Ours’ plays for what feels like hours before I transition into ‘Faithful’ by Kerri Chandler. Unintentionally, this is the third gospeldelic song I have played thus far, and in recognizing this, my eyes grow wide because I know the time has come to play the song I desperately wanted to play. I almost let out a maniacal laugh. I probably do.

That song I’ve been foaming at the mouth to play is ‘Proto Rhythm 2’ by Modern Analysis. I heard Titonton Duvanté play it a few months ago (shoutout to Bloom for bringing him), and it blew my mind. I had been patiently waiting for the right moment to play it myself ever since he shared the track ID with me. It’s a stripped-down, acidy house track that is layered with gospel like vocals. It’s so rich and so simple that when I listen to it, I shake my head, not to the beat, but in disbelief of how a song could pack such a punch with so little.

As ‘Faithful’ comes to an end, I begin mixing in ‘Proto Rhythm 2’, and my heart races. I scream. I shake my head in disbelief again. Now because of how perfectly everything is going. I jump back from the decks with excitement as if I’ve been electrocuted. I squirm with joy. The two tracks play in unison, complementing each other. I lift my gaze from the mixer to the people, and they are as happy as I. This moment is ours. The vocals in ‘Proto Rhythm 2’ (sampled from ‘Life Is Something Special’ (Special Edition) by the Peech Boys) chant affirmations.

“You’ve got to take it. Dream it. We are something special.
You’ve got to take it. Dream it. Feel it. Touch it. Think it.
Try it. Sing it. Say it. Music is something special.”

I’m gifted with the chance to gift people music that can change their attitudes towards life. And thus change the remaining parts of life. There’s no doubt in my mind that the message of the music is transmitted losslessly into the minds of everybody here.

The clock is ticking, and only a few minutes remain. I want to end on a lighter note than ‘Proto Rhythm 2’. As uplifting as the vocals are, the acidy bass line is a bit dark. I need a break between it and the grand finale, which I had chosen to be ‘We Are Children’ by Fruitcake far before I got behind the decks. Before I even got to the venue. As loose as my plan of what to play was, I knew I wanted to end with ‘We Are Children’.

But before that, I need a song with lots of percussion. Lots of runway to mix out of the current song and into the last song. I need the perfect segue. I need ‘The Break (Remix)’ by Kat Mandu. I play it. The loose disco drums fill the mix as the vocals from ‘Proto Rhythm 2’ keep going on and on until they fade into obscurity. Then the horns come in. And the cheers start back up. Then the whistles in the song come in. People begin clapping along to the song, and I playfully tamper with the low end, bringing it in and out like a call and response.

‘We Are Children’ is locked and loaded, ready to go, waiting to be unleashed. I just have to wait for the perfect time. There’s not much runway for a nice blend in ‘We Are Children’, so the transition needs to be swift. A simple fade in and fade out as the two pass each other like ships in the night. That’s what needs to be done, and by the grace of God, that’s what happens. I let out a sigh. It feels like the first time I have exhaled in the last hour, hell, the last few weeks. Planning, promoting, and playing a party is one of the most taxing things somebody in the nightlife can do. The stress of ticket sales, posting and praying people come, compounded with the logistics of the party and planning a DJ set, wounds people into tight balls of anxiety for weeks on end. All this for a few hours of fun. And fun tonight was.

I look up as the music ends. The same 40 from before are lit up in front of me, and we’re closer than we’ve ever been. Even if some walk towards the exit. A brief second of silence ensues before the void is filled with faint cheers and shouts. Hugs are shared and hands are shaken. Goodbyes are exchanged. I smile, again. Wider. I breathe, again. Finally.