New Year's Eve: From the Other Side of the DJ Booth

“Can’t you play something… better?” yells the overly made-up girl amidst the pumping bass line from Billie Jean. “This music sucks!”

It’s New Years Eve. I wouldn’t ever want to ruin anyone’s night, but since this is such a special occasion to many, I’m especially careful not to offend. I take a deep breath and slowly gaze up from my cluttered booth. “Well I’m sticking with a bit of retro right now, but I plan on changing it up a few times tonight, so don’t worry. Do you have any suggestions?” I ask politely, mimicking the furrowed eyebrows of my adversary.

“Something GOOD like Justin Timberlake or Rihanna. As long as it’s not ‘old people music’ like this!” she stammers, with her finger pointed at a speaker. “Play it in the next 5 minutes and we might stick around, okay?” Before I can retort (or throw something at her), she storms off. I release the clench on my lower lip and try to remind myself why I’m still doing this.

Look, I’m waving the white flag. It’s a gigantic, glow-in-the-dark, titanium white banner. I formally surrender to the will of the people. I’ve had my fun playing the music I love to hear. I used to be in denial about this, but I’ve faced facts and realized that terrible pop music (whether old or new) is what people really want to dance to.

Being a DJ is still the best job in the world. I meet new people, learn about music, mangle sounds with cool gear and keep your asses shaking. I get the pleasure of watching people be themselves and caricatures of themselves all at the same time. I wouldn’t trade this job for anything.

But being a DJ is neither glamorous nor easy.

It’s my job to play what people want to hear. Even though I try to express the silly art of playing music I didn’t compose in a creative matter, I have finally matured enough to know that the night isn’t about me, or the music for that matter. It’s strictly about making people dance. For if they dance, they drink. And if they drink, they spend their money. The drunker they get, the more they dance. Rinse, repeat. Everyone’s happy, and those who count the cash at the end of the night are especially pleased.

I am a human jukebox at the mercy of the unrelenting public and my bosses’ choice in musical direction and sometimes this balance is tricky to maintain. It’s always somebody’s birthday or bachelorette party or something, but especially festive nights like NYE can be particularly annoying. An ultra-celebratory night can bring out the worst in people when it comes to what they feel should be blaring over the speakers.

Before I continue, let me set the scene:

It’s the hyped-up party to end another dull year in which you accomplished absolutely nothing and yet seem so excited about celebrating it. You might find yourself drinking copious amounts of champagne (or Red Bull and something), smoking your favourite pollutant and partying like it’s nineteen … never mind, Prince might sue.

With all due respect to Halloween, this is when the clowns really come out. It’s a good thing I couldn’t care less about going grey because a few more of these and I’ll be sporting a ‘do that Bea Arthur would be proud of. And let’s not forget the confetti. Whoever invented confetti is in trouble once my pesky time machine is finally built… but I digress.

Based upon my clinical research, bar patrons fall into one of the following 2 general categories when it comes to how they celebrate the end of Boxing Week:

• The seasoned partier who yet again gathers the troops for a raucous, blurry, $35 a head, vomit-inducing, drug-dabbling, liver-decimating, fear-and-loathing-esque night at the usually drab (yet hastily decorated) watering hole. Kissing (and going home with) a total stranger is frowned upon, yet customary. Chances of knowing a single KISS song: 0%.
• The one for whom NYE is one of the only times that a trip to the local discotheque is appropriate. Once the clock strikes there’s really no point in hanging around, resulting in an early exit to ride the bus home or get food. Besides, introducing your ethnically inept friends to something called a Shawarma is so the thing to do right now. Chances of requesting Cyndi Lauper: 100%.

Go on, decide which group you belong to before we continue.

Now, talking about NYE forces me to think of every rude and mentally taxing bar patron I’ve encountered while working. You probably know who you are. More than this, it reminds me of all the terrible music I’ve had to play while we celebrate good times. If the ending bit of that last sentence made you hum Kool & The Gang, don’t be (too) ashamed - you’re my target audience! For the love of God, keep reading.

In the hopes that some of you may actually be swayed by my whiny rant about being a DJ, I’m going to arrogantly dole out a few of my house rules for NYE. Some of these definitely apply to any bar night, and since I spend my weekends getting requests, I thought I’d make a few requests of my own. This is my way of trying to keep the peace between you, the dancer, and I, the poor bastard who has to watch you dance to Abba.

My guidelines:

• If it’s someone’s birthday, you’ll be inclined to request a special song for them. That’s fine. I’ve finally gotten over the futility of this activity. But for the love of all that’s decent, stop referring to 50 Cent’s “In Da Club” as “It’s Your Birthday”. That’s not the name of the fucking song!
• Along the same lines, someone raise their hand and tell me what’s wrong with the following question: “Hi! Could you play ‘Save a Horse Ride a Cowboy’? Can you request it out to Jenny?” Read that again. Did you see that? It’s “DEDICATE”, not “REQUEST”. I REQUEST that you all stop doing this. It happens about 10 times a night. To those of you who called foul on the choice of song, I give you half points.
• I’m not your iPod. I’m not going to play your song “RIGHT NOW”, or even at all, if you treat me like your iPod. Ask politely, and I shall be polite as well. If you don’t hear your song, don’t take it personally… I don’t play requests when there isn’t enough time or when the music is at odds with the flow of the evening. If this ruins your night, you have some serious issues.
• Widen your musical horizons. There’s a line in a famous song that goes “Some people won’t dance if they don’t know who’s singing”. It’s not totally your fault. Shitty radio is really to blame, but respect the fact that someone in the establishment might actually like Chaka Khan, no matter how strange that might be to you. Get out there, shake your ass and just go with it. If you don’t know who Chaka Khan is, you just proved my point.
• I don’t mind if you don’t like what’s playing, but please, give me something to work with when you come up to the booth. “I don’t know! Just stop playing crap!” doesn’t convince me that you know better. It just proves you know nothing.
• If you can’t tell whether a girl wants your cruddy face pressed against hers at midnight, it’s best to move on to someone (or something) else. If you’re going to do something naughty in a bar, do it only when you have the green light, and preferably only as Genuwine’s “Pony” rattles the PA.
• Resist the urge to sing along to “Auld Lang Syne” like you know the words. You don’t know the words. Nobody does. It takes away from the beauty of the song. Much more than this, it makes you look like the clown you are. Okay, that one has nothing to do with me, but I don’t care.

In the end, I love seeing people have a great time. It’s what drove me to be a DJ. I enjoy being in the middle of it all and getting a buzz from the crowd (plus a few rye and gingers). You can make NYE a blast without resorting to watching Ryan Seacrest at home on the tube, and hopefully I can help things along with some music.

Look, NYE is a special night. For some it’s about missed opportunities and for others it signifies new commitments. Everyone suddenly decides they have only one more chance to go nuts and create another lasting memory. Despite my sarcasm, I love seeing this collective celebration. So get out there, be careful and enjoy yourselves. Don’t waste your time obsessing about music.

…And yes, I’ll play the new Britney song and pretend to like it… I know someone out there actually does and I begrudgingly respect that. Let’s keep the peace!

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