It's who you know. Or: Everybody hates The Drake
Sunday night, I went to visit a DJ friend of mine about 30 minutes south of me. I'd been blowing him off for the past month or so, partly because I think he's too interested in me to want to hang with him alone, but also because I don't feel like wasting the gas to make the drive. However, I happened to be in the area that night, and since I did feel a twinge guilty over said blowing off, I made the point to drop by. (Besides, there was someone else hanging with him.)
He mentions to me that he's spinning at one of the more prominent lounges on Thursday night, and he really wants me to hang.
"Depends. What's the damage?" I asked.
"No damage. I'm putting you on the guest list," he said. Ah, the magic words! Of course I'm game to go. Then he adds, "I'm DJing with The Drake."
I cringe. "You know how I feel about The Drake."
"Nobody likes The Drake," he said. "But it's a necessary evil, you know? He's helping me to get the gig."
I understood. Here's the deal with The Drake--and you'll find out why I call him that in a moment. See, The Drake happens to have a residency in one of the bars I hang out at on Clematis Street. Quite frankly, to say he sucks is to pay him a major compliment. I'm not saying this merely to hate--I thought he was horrible before I even met him.
As for why The Drake and I don't care for each other: About a month or so ago, The Drake called me up to his booth, chatted with me for a minute, and was impressed enough to ask me to hang with him at an afterparty for a couple of bands I've barely heard of. Everything went as well as it could. The next afternoon, I texted him as to what time I should come down. The Drake replied:
Please don't come really.
Um..what?
So this began a round of texting of my telling him if he feels that way about me that I could make it on my own without his help, thanks much, and his reply that he's never liked me, I should just lose his number and stay away from the club because he's going to get me banned.
That last one sent me into major snorting. Unless a DJ is on the level of Paul Oakenfeld--and in many cases not even then--it's a known fact he's got no say in who gets banned from the club. It's a known fact that the DJ is on the same level, if not below, that of the waitresses and bartenders with having that kind of power. As it was, I was supposed to meet friends at the club that night. So I went, got into the club without incident, and had a great time. Especially when I told them about the texting incident with The Drake, who mixed into one of his usual trainwrecks. To amuse myself, I kept track of how many botched mixes he pulled thoughout the night. I believe I lost track after eight.
Back to the present day, DJ R.F., as I shall call him, lets me know that I won't have to be near The Drake; they won't be in the booth at the same time. Fine by me, because I'm not one to start drama.
"Has The Drake improved any?" offers R.F.'s friend.
"He's getting better; he's practicing," was the answer.
But it pisses me off that while I'm still working on getting that elusive foot in the door, untalented asshats like The Drake get gigs left and right. "It's who you know," offers DJ R.F. Ain't that the truth?
Meanwhile, I keep throwing demos left and right and plugging away. I just hope something breaks through soon.
He mentions to me that he's spinning at one of the more prominent lounges on Thursday night, and he really wants me to hang.
"Depends. What's the damage?" I asked.
"No damage. I'm putting you on the guest list," he said. Ah, the magic words! Of course I'm game to go. Then he adds, "I'm DJing with The Drake."
I cringe. "You know how I feel about The Drake."
"Nobody likes The Drake," he said. "But it's a necessary evil, you know? He's helping me to get the gig."
I understood. Here's the deal with The Drake--and you'll find out why I call him that in a moment. See, The Drake happens to have a residency in one of the bars I hang out at on Clematis Street. Quite frankly, to say he sucks is to pay him a major compliment. I'm not saying this merely to hate--I thought he was horrible before I even met him.
As for why The Drake and I don't care for each other: About a month or so ago, The Drake called me up to his booth, chatted with me for a minute, and was impressed enough to ask me to hang with him at an afterparty for a couple of bands I've barely heard of. Everything went as well as it could. The next afternoon, I texted him as to what time I should come down. The Drake replied:
Please don't come really.
Um..what?
So this began a round of texting of my telling him if he feels that way about me that I could make it on my own without his help, thanks much, and his reply that he's never liked me, I should just lose his number and stay away from the club because he's going to get me banned.
That last one sent me into major snorting. Unless a DJ is on the level of Paul Oakenfeld--and in many cases not even then--it's a known fact he's got no say in who gets banned from the club. It's a known fact that the DJ is on the same level, if not below, that of the waitresses and bartenders with having that kind of power. As it was, I was supposed to meet friends at the club that night. So I went, got into the club without incident, and had a great time. Especially when I told them about the texting incident with The Drake, who mixed into one of his usual trainwrecks. To amuse myself, I kept track of how many botched mixes he pulled thoughout the night. I believe I lost track after eight.
Back to the present day, DJ R.F., as I shall call him, lets me know that I won't have to be near The Drake; they won't be in the booth at the same time. Fine by me, because I'm not one to start drama.
"Has The Drake improved any?" offers R.F.'s friend.
"He's getting better; he's practicing," was the answer.
But it pisses me off that while I'm still working on getting that elusive foot in the door, untalented asshats like The Drake get gigs left and right. "It's who you know," offers DJ R.F. Ain't that the truth?
Meanwhile, I keep throwing demos left and right and plugging away. I just hope something breaks through soon.