fugue state
It's one in the morning, and I have headphones on, backtracking through the last thirty seconds of Depeche Mode's "Personal Jesus", where it's just Martin Gore repeating the chorus, and trying out different layers of transitions: the first 10 seconds of AWOLNATION's "Sail" where it's all just keyboards and before the bass comes in, a loop of guitar vamps from somewhere in the middle of "Lovely 2 C U" before kicking back to the original, the percussive intro to a Florence + The Machine's "Drumming Song". I should go to bed. I have to work in the morning. But this is fun and it isn't work.
Earlier this year, after being invited to DJ the birthday party for a couple of friends, I made up my mind to buy myself a real digital DJ rig. Software for the laptop. A hardware controller that mimics a pair of decks so that I wouldn't be clicking around with a keyboard and mouse. Time to rip a bunch a CDs to MP3. I remember considering this purchase seven years ago, but chose to put my money and time into bikes instead.
I don't regret that for it had, in some way, represented a decision to turn away from DJ'ing because I was hitting certain limits of energy and enthusiasm. I needed a break; but the itch still lingered and there were still people asking me to come out and play. There were a couple of good gigs over the past few months that reawakened this urge. That was followed by promoters who'd hear me play out and ask me to send them a demo. So when the birthday act came up, I chose to go all in.
Since then, it's been interesting having this gear to practice on. It's been interesting practicing at all. The software allows me to record my sets, so that I can play them back and listen to them; revisit every mistake and every awkward transition. I've had a tendency to push my limits around layering songs, getting bored with just fading-in and fading-out tracks, and trying to be too clever. In the past, while playing live, I'd just push through it; realize that something wasn't working but ignore it and let the memory of it fade as I had to focus on the rest of the set.
Now, with recordings it's easy to be reminded that some of my shit is really just shit. It's trainwrecky and jarring, and I shouldn't just ignore it, and work on improving my technique. But, it's also easy to overanalyze, and sometimes forget that between blown out club systems and alcohol and distracted patrons, that some mistakes in a live set will just get lost in the noise.
I've got another set coming up at Ceremony next Monday, and in the evenings I've been practicing transitions, coming up with blocks of songs to play with and juggle. On one hand, it's in the name of being a better performer and ensuring that my friends will have a good time when they show up. On the other hand, it's also just fun. I like the way practice has gotten me to revisit old songs ("omg, I haven't listened to this Cranes song in forever") and also is just an excuse to bop around my apartment with headphones and a silly grin, trying to imagine what Monday night will be like.
I try not to go into any given night with an agenda, but the other night I found a way of pairing this song with an old scene standby that I think will work out awesome.
Earlier this year, after being invited to DJ the birthday party for a couple of friends, I made up my mind to buy myself a real digital DJ rig. Software for the laptop. A hardware controller that mimics a pair of decks so that I wouldn't be clicking around with a keyboard and mouse. Time to rip a bunch a CDs to MP3. I remember considering this purchase seven years ago, but chose to put my money and time into bikes instead.
I don't regret that for it had, in some way, represented a decision to turn away from DJ'ing because I was hitting certain limits of energy and enthusiasm. I needed a break; but the itch still lingered and there were still people asking me to come out and play. There were a couple of good gigs over the past few months that reawakened this urge. That was followed by promoters who'd hear me play out and ask me to send them a demo. So when the birthday act came up, I chose to go all in.
Since then, it's been interesting having this gear to practice on. It's been interesting practicing at all. The software allows me to record my sets, so that I can play them back and listen to them; revisit every mistake and every awkward transition. I've had a tendency to push my limits around layering songs, getting bored with just fading-in and fading-out tracks, and trying to be too clever. In the past, while playing live, I'd just push through it; realize that something wasn't working but ignore it and let the memory of it fade as I had to focus on the rest of the set.
Now, with recordings it's easy to be reminded that some of my shit is really just shit. It's trainwrecky and jarring, and I shouldn't just ignore it, and work on improving my technique. But, it's also easy to overanalyze, and sometimes forget that between blown out club systems and alcohol and distracted patrons, that some mistakes in a live set will just get lost in the noise.
I've got another set coming up at Ceremony next Monday, and in the evenings I've been practicing transitions, coming up with blocks of songs to play with and juggle. On one hand, it's in the name of being a better performer and ensuring that my friends will have a good time when they show up. On the other hand, it's also just fun. I like the way practice has gotten me to revisit old songs ("omg, I haven't listened to this Cranes song in forever") and also is just an excuse to bop around my apartment with headphones and a silly grin, trying to imagine what Monday night will be like.
I try not to go into any given night with an agenda, but the other night I found a way of pairing this song with an old scene standby that I think will work out awesome.
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