Ladies and gentlemen – I am pleased to announce that as of today, I am celebrating exactly 20 years in this business! That’s correct. my delusions of grandeur began August 21, 1993. So, since I love of storytelling… I give you my Top 5 most memorable moments of the time I have spent as an artist, a DJ, producer, and showman (in no particular order).
*** WARNING: NSFW!! ***
#5: Gay Pride F*ck-up
Mark Bell gave me my first true solo residency playing for the masses of University of Georgia alongside Dangermouse at Athens Music Factory and Boneshakers in the late 90s. During that time, I was asked to close out the annual Gay Pride Week at Boneshakers.
After a lengthy but fun drag pageant, I started my DJ set at the end of the night with only two hours until last call. The place was stuffed elbow to elbow. Spirits were high. My dance floor was packed. So far, I couldn’t have asked for better. Thirty minutes later, I paused and got an idea to really put everybody into a frenzy. I reached in my bag and pulled out a rare brand new vinyl only bootleg remix…threw it on the decks…and then maxed out the volume.
When the vocals hit, I started jumping to the beat, shut my eyes and was fist pumping like a madman. Hell yeah! WOOOO HOOO! No sooner did this happen, I hear my lighting and video tech start screaming obscenities at me. “WHAT? What the F*CK do you think you are DOING?!” He yelled at me a few variations of the same thing until I stopped, opened my eyes and noticed that the dance floor was parted like the Red Sea! Everyone in the club was posted up on the wall mean-mugging and snarling at me! The DJ booth was surrounded by a couple dozen queens who clearly wanted to beat me with their stilettos.
I was totally confused. I started thinking, “Ok. Things were awesome a few seconds ago. Why is everybody…?” Then it dawned on me what I did to piss them off and stop the party. The super-awesome rare remix I pulled out to play was a House rework of “Hey, We Want Some P**sy” from 2 Live Crew. In a total panic, stopped the music and immediately played Whitney Houston’s version of “I’m Every Woman” to save my ass. Luckily, it worked. Everything was fine after that.
#4: Bloody Dancer
Around 2002, I used to frequent a local underground rave spot known as The Globe Theater in Atlanta. One night I grabbed my music and gear to see what was happening. As my luck would have it, there was a locals only party at The Globe complete with a sign up sheet for anyone who wanted to DJ on the rear patio could simply grab an hour time slot and run with it.
A couple hours passed and the party was mostly happening inside, not out back. As usual, everyone on the back patio was simply smoking, drinking, socializing and stuff. Occasionally, you might find someone nodding their head to the DJ outside or shout a quick “Woo!” toward the riser where the decks stood. When my time rolled around, I stepped up on the riser, plugged in my headphones, and played the hardest, most aggressive remixes I had on me. It wasn’t long before a lot of heads turned my way to encourage my ‘go hard, or go home’ performance style. Conversations fell by the wayside. The familiar crackle of glow sticks being activated would be heard now and again like a toddler playing with a sheet of bubble wrap. Heads bobbing soon gained momentum to become a full one-on-one dance off as I sent a barrage bass riffs grinding out of the speakers. I glanced up from the mixer and saw one random guy wearing flip flops do a backflip to finish his routine and punctuate his dominance as a harder partier than whoever it was that squared off as his opponent.
My set was soon over. I packed up my things and made my way from the rear patio to the parking lot out front of the venue. A few people who were outside complimented me on my set. I humbly thanked them as best as I could over the loud music that was overpowering our brief conversations. I weaved through the crowd inside to the front door so I could emerge outside to figure out where I parked my truck. Halfway to my parking space, I heard footsteps behind me gaining speed and get closer. Then I heard, “DUDE! HEY! You! …Mister DJ! …Holy crap! What is your name?” I slowly turned around thinking, “Who is this guy freaking out about? …Wait. I’m the only one out here.”
A bit out of breath and limping toward me he asked again, “Dude…who are you?” “My friends call me B-Naut.” He continued to hobble around me very enthusiastically like a cheerleader with a sprained ankle. “Dude. I caught your set. It was AMAZING! …And check this out! You did THIS!” He pointed down and stuck out his leg. My ears were still ringing from my prolonged exposure to the loud music a m0ment earlier. My eyes followed his finger pointing out this big wad of napkins soaked in blood that he had secured to his toes with duct tape. The look of confusion and disgust was all over the look on my face. He backtracked, “No no no no. It’s cool. I’ll be okay. I just wanted you to know that out of all the DJs tonight, YOU were totally off the chain! YOU did THIS!…I can’t thank you enough.”
Finally, it dawned on on me that this was the same guy who did the backflip earlier. It turned out that when he landed the flip, he slammed his toes directly into the concrete and he was either too high or too happy be in pain.
[NOTE: Due to preparations for my upcoming gig at Dragon*Con 2013, PART 2 to this will be completed and posted at a later date. STAY TUNED, TRUE BELIEVERS!]