Djing Quotes

DJing for people is fun until someone comes up with a phone screen that has 'PLAY SOME RIHANNA' written on it. I prefer to play older songs because they're the ones I personally enjoy dancing and singing along to and modern dance music bores my brains out.

HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOUR WORK? I’d say it’s like…that’s always the toughest question to answer…I’d say it’s like John Updike getting felt up by Clive Barker at a party thrown by Norman Mailer, with Aphex Twin DJing the event.

The back garden is like an unkempt jungle, with huge old trees, half-dead branches hanging like skeletons, and suspicious mushrooms lying around. Pretty sure a few aimless ghosts fly overhead, moaning about having a subpar location and few to no visitors on a daily basis. The moonlight plays hide-and-seek with the clouds and night owls scream in the distance, adding some DJing to the whole creepy vibe. Four out of five. Would recommend it for satanic rituals.

This nomad life isn’t exactly conducive to relationships and I’m getting sick of DJing my own party.

I looked into her gray-blue eyes and saw myself in them, as clearly as looking in a mirror. Building a miniature record player for my dollhouse long past bedtime. Teaching myself to code a Web site under the covers, so my dad wouldn’t come in and tell me to go to sleep. DJing alone in my bedroom in the dark. These things could always wait until daylight, but I wanted to do them in the night.

How has a failure, or apparent failure, set you up for later success? Do you have a “favorite failure” of yours? There was a period when I was drinking at every show, and I was DJing a lot, maybe four nights a week, playing local shows in Los Angeles. I had a couple of Dim Mak parties, and we were on top of the world! We had cornered the market with our sound and culture, and I was just getting booked left and right. I was the ambassador of this new culture that was burgeoning in electronic music called “electro,” and my ego was flexing a bit. I was drinking and having fun. It was a great feeling, but then you forget about the most important things in life because you’re in that fog of self-indulgence. My mom was coming to visit me, and she never flies in. This was one of the few times she had. I was supposed to pick her up in the morning. I had a big night the night before—we had a party, I drank, and I stayed out super late. The next morning my mom landed around 7 A.M., and I slept through it. I woke up at 10 A.M., or something awful like three hours later. I saw a text message from my mom—she barely even knew how to text! I don’t know why, but she waited at the airport for three hours, sitting outside on a bench. My poor mom. Once I got to the airport an hour later—making it four hours she had been there—she was just innocently sitting on this bench, and I broke down. She was still so sweet about it. It was at that moment that I felt like this whole life of partying and drinking was all bullshit, especially if you can’t maintain your priorities of valuing and taking care of your family. That was one fail I will never forget. After that, I stopped being caught up in that Hollywood bubble where everyone parties and drinks every single night. You can live in that bubble and forget about the realities of your family and relationships outside the bubble. But those relationships are vital to who you are and are important in your life. Eventually, I quit drinking, which I am happy about, partly because of this major fail.

The very subjects and activities that rappers rap about today are exactly what Hip Hop was created to avoid and even overcome. The point here is that knowledge and overstanding were also at the birth of Hip Hop right along with b-boying, MC-ing, graffiti writing and DJ-ing. However, the desperate quest to exploit Hip Hop’s artistic elements for profit (in Hip Hop’s later years) buried the principles and life skills that accompanied Hip Hop’s early artistic elements.

Just outside the main door of the hotel, a man with an Irish accent asks to borrow my phone. ‘I was DJing up in the mountains and now I have to call me mother.’ It’s not the most convincing story I’ve heard. ‘I’m really sorry, I can’t give you my phone,’ I reply. ‘I’m going in this door now, sorry.’ He tells me to piss off (which is surely what I’m already doing?) and to go and have sex with myself (on my list).

FALLIERE WAS TWENTY-EIGHT, with the dark, Gallic looks of someone who seemed like he’d be more at home DJing trance music in an underground Paris nightclub than poring over reams of printed computer code during a commute on the Métro. In reality, he was fairly shy and reserved, and sifting through dense computer code was in fact a much bigger draw to him than spending sweaty nights in a throbbing club.