My time as Little Lexi on Defected has come to an end since my return to SA. It was a totally rad experience being the girl with the ‘clubbing dirt’ and blogging about it every week on the site… See below all my posts over the 8 months I was stuck in… Big love to the boys at Defected HQ in London- them lucky bastards sitting in their office grooving to the freshest house music all day- tough life eh! :) You can get a dose of the latest Defected wordsex here.
BPM MAGAZINE 2008
I love Jo’burg. There I said it. And I’m not going to water it down by defending its crime statistics, peak hour traffic jams due to badly planned road systems and lest we forget; that little electricity issue that picks on the Northern Suburbs. No, I’m not. I’ve come to terms of late, with the fact that I am a city girl- and a Jo’burg city girl at that. Sure I appreciate the wind in my hair and the sand on my towel as much as the next coastal creative; I might as well admit I was born in good old Durban an ‘all- I’m even a Shark supporter when the occasion calls- but my years in the city have long washed away any fantasies of being a Roxy surfing champion and I’m okay with that.
Driving around the City of Gold is my ultimate in ‘Hometown Appreciation’. The equivalent of sitting on the rocks and paying homage to the roar of the ocean; that mixture of warm summer night, blinking lights, unrelenting energy and perfectly timed reverb from the cars speakers as you cruise, quickens my blood and gives me that ‘Wow, I’m alive and life is beautiful!” feeling (Rare, but most commonly found at Psy-trance parties in the bush). In fact, I could drive around in wonder all night; see the art in rusty pipes, rubbish strewn roads, and abandoned warehouses; peeking through broken windows in ‘Old’ Newtown and picturing the disheveled spaces as our hot new dance den in the concrete jungle! (See how I wasn’t kidding about the city girl thing?).
Okay, I may be slightly obsessed; in fact, I’m told my city crawl craving is just bizarre… I think it’s just ‘car bar’, good company and a rock-solid playlist- the perfect set for the perfect city surf! After all what would it be without that background beat?
Whether it’s mood music for a road trip or to take you to the party ‘round the corner, there’s much to be said about the music you drive to. In general, music speaks volumes about you’re personality- and remember, that we’ve all had some epiphany the ‘rockers’ haven’t (-although we don’t tell them this, they’d hate to realise they’re not as intelligent as their emo lyrics have them believe). While driving, the music that moves you is that same personal expression fused with your streetwise instinct and self awareness- a very powerful combination indeed, and on that level, a good reason to get you’re travel tunage to a T!
Some say there is nothing worse than arriving somewhere and realising the mix you listened to in the car on the way over is better than the music being played live. Ouch. Recent experience, however, made me decide there’s nothing worse than being in the ‘wrong music’ car- no matter the location situation!
See, mostly I’m a ‘can do it all’ kind of Dance loving city girl. I don’t passenger DJ- or drive for that matter- you could say I’m an easy rider! But then there’s that occasion where you’re made to listen to that music and every beat infiltrating your ears makes you’re soul cringe so desperately you need to hug yourself and promise it will be okay. I don’t exaggerate: A two hour drive to aforementioned Psy-trance bush party with an Alberton Hardstyle head of note (Please! Even 5fm with its three Rock, two Pop and one Kwaito rotation would be more driving than this repetitive drivel!). A polite reminder why sometimes it pays to be your own designated driver!
I like to ease into the road with sounds akin to that of the destination; be it house, techno or anything in between. Maybe a little lighter or a dash deeper- nothing too ‘hit the pedal to the metal’ mad- I’m told Dance lovers have a tendency to speed? (I know! What? Place dramatically shocked expression here!) But the music is a great way to up the ante; a test drive to wrap your head around the sound- indulge in a total temperament tune-in- and be immersed into and more appreciative of the music when I get wherever we’re going. It’s simply a headspace thing!
Yes. I’m told girls from Jo’burg are a wee bit complicated, but to make up for it, the intelligent ones (without that ridiculous Grayston Drive drawl) are a mighty adventurous bunch. We can dig a bit of dirt and appreciate nature’s natural dancefloors; lap up the anxious anticipation of a ‘we-own-the-night’ mission into the pulsating darkness of City Deep (that is not an electricity joke) and find solace in a road trip that strays outside norm- just add the rhythm to compliment the ride!
BPM Magazine 2007
Did you know: If you spend an average of 10 hours per week dancing in clubs, every week for a whole year, you would have spent 21 days in total of that year shaking your bod non-stop? How awesome!? –And you only need two 9pm-2am benders each week to full fill this quota- not bad eh? And to think; people say our generation is lazy! Tsk tsk!
Keeping nocturnal hours like these, whilst working out from my pole position on the dancefloor- that’s front-right of the DJ box- I’ve had much time to study (and by this I mean “suss out” before dropping suave moves to the left, to the left!) what I’ve come to extensively term “DJ Etiquette”.
Friends laugh at my peculiar invention and obsession with the “Science of DJ and Dance Culture”- although; house heads and DJ’s alike will nod in recognition at the respect and decorum one must dutifully give the man mixing the music. As much as he- or she- is “living the dream” and to the untrained ear, is just banging out the tunes, a DJ’s mix is a creative process that cannot be interrupted!
But it so often is; time and again I’ve seen people, and yes, they are mostly giggling girls, descend on the DJ box with the intention of requesting a song. (I mean seriously… is this happening?) The DJ can probably feel their breath on his hands as they yell “Please can you play Rock Your Body by Bob Sinclair next?” or something just as ridiculous! Their timing normally coincides with the pivotal point of his demonically creative possession: as he’s mixing in the next track, thus providing the perfect moment for what can only be described as a total fuck up! They grin and bat their eyelids expectantly for an equally excited response, maybe; “Sure babe! Hey, should I play Heaven by DJ Sammy after that?”
They don’t even realise they’ve interrupted an artist at work! But the DJ, who has an Etiquette all of his own, says nothing. He may smile weakly in return, but for all they know, they may as well have dumped his entire vinyl bag on the floor and taken turns jumping on his prized collection. I can literally see his heart sink as he’s yanked out the zone, a fireball of eclectic energy dissolving into the thin and smoky air of the club, never to be known or felt by the aching souls and feet on the dancefloor. I can feel his pain- talk about Buzzkill!
If you watch closely, a DJ’s set, while somewhat preplanned, simmers and sizzles accordingly to the vibe of the venue and the eloquent “buckness” of the crowd. The challenge of successfully dropping that one track that makes the entire dancefloor heave in unison is the only confirmation a DJ needs to know that he has rocked the house- and what a moment it is to view from the front row! -And to experience, uninterrupted!
He builds up the ante as he prepares to drop the beat; you can see he’s feeling it! His head is bopping wildly; his hands are flying, patting the vinyl and tweaking the knobs with passionate deliberation. Right before it happens, the sound scatters and whines, and the dancefloor almost halts in anticipation of “something big” about to go down! You know that moment; where the music is almost stagnating as it’s become so teasingly slow? You can hear the voices of the floor inhabitants around you and they’re starting to wonder if something went wrong with the sound system. The DJ holds a mysterious grin… Ah yes, only he knows what’s coming… People, the artist is about to deliver his masterpiece; a mere moment in time, etched into the souls of your ears for eternity: Priceless!
What then becomes thee track of the evening rips through the ebbing beat of the previous one, an edgy but smooth transition that creates an eruption of euphoria throughout the club. It’s amazing to stand back and watch the crowd go wild- no conscience, no problems, no concept of time. Nothing but you, and your body’s uncontrollable distortion. This is what I live for: that moment where I feel there is nowhere in the world I’d rather be than right here! And you must be one hell of an artist to create that kind of satisfaction!
Roger Goode’s husky nurse says it best: “No Requests- Trust the DJ”.
Trust the DJ, take the ride his way and be transported 21 days away from living another average year of your life!
Portfolio Blog of Holly Jade. Freelance Writer and Music Industry PR. *Likes long dances in the dark.
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