Three observations about deejaying
1. The Chemical Brothers' remix of Kylie's "Slow" gets people dancing every single time.
1a. Ok, who am I kidding, it gets women dancing every time, but that in turn gets the men on the floor. Bush should use that shit for a campaign theme, because it is a uniter, not a divider!
2. No matter what you're playing, or where you're playing, someone will ask you if you have "any 80s music." Even if they are French, pronounce it "muzik," and you are already playing house music that's about as 80s-inflected as possible.
2a. Eg, wasn't she listening when I played the other bootleg of Kylie's "Slow," the one that dropped like manna from the heavens into my hands yesterday, the one with four bars of the synth line from "Save a Prayer" grafted shamelessly into the breakdown? I ain't sayin' where I got that sucker, and don't even know who made it, but it is the record of my month -- microgoth microhouse with tinny little Casio tones, an oddly mournful undertone reminiscent of Lawrence, and jittery drum programming straight outta Robag Wruhme/Wighnomy Bros territory. The flip side swaps out Kylie's vocals for a low male voice (akin to the Geili Kylie mix of "Can't Get You Outta My Head") over the most weirdly rutted tracky underpinning ever -- sort of like Joakim's "Come Into My Kitchen," but not really -- and breaks down the most ridiculous interlude of congas, bells, and handclaps in which a woman intones something about "Pa' comer." Seek and be destroyed.
2b. Back to the 80s thing: I blame cocaine. What else would explain the deluge of parties in SF with names like "Bump," promising electro, new wave, punk rock, disco, rock 'n roll, and never a shred of techno -- and never, ever beatmatched? Is cocaine so disruptive to attention spans that people just can't be bothered with mixed transitions any more? (This is a genuine question -- I wouldn't know.)
3. Carsten Jost's mix of Turner's "After Work" is one of the greatest opening songs ever. It also one of the most gripping end-of-night records there is, a huge swirling undertow of loss and promise.