Archive for November 2011

Oppurtunity Knocks For The Laptop DJ

November 30, 2011

Every second Thursday, Downtown Sanford hosts Alive After Five, an outdoor event involving merchant booths and entertainment.  Also, local artists set up on the sidewalks and sell their work.  The event happens between 5 to 9PM.

Taken during Alive After Five

One Thursday, I received a call from Little Fish-Huge Pond, my Tuesday and Wednesday night gigs.  A band was scheduled to perform during the event.  I forgot why they weren’t tongiht.  Yet, I was asked did I want to DJ in their place. I was going to perform outside in front of the bar.  Each Alive After Five contains a theme.  Because the evening’s theme was Motown, Motown music was what I was going to play.

With no plans for the evening, I accepted.

Flash forward two months later.  Little Fish-Huge Pond scheduled another band to perform outside.  Agreeing to show up at five, the band didn’t appear until 6:30.  Then, after setting up for an hour, they didn’t start performing  until 7:30.

Fed up with bands, Little Fish’s owner asked me to DJ future Alive After Fives.  Of course, I accepted.

As I write this blog, I think about DJ friends at The Peacock Room in Orlando, dudes who either showed up extremely late for scheduled gigs or didn’t show up at all. As for the late-comers, after one DJ spun for about two hours, the other DJ was just now entering the building.  For some reason, this rubbed folks scheduling the events the wrong way, especially when the late-comer was the organizer for the event.  Then, there’s the guy whose always behaving hip around The Peacock Room.  He acts hip.  Talks hip.  Dresses hip. Yet, twice didn’t show up for his own gig.

I guess reliability and talent is why I’m receiving more and more gigs, especially gigs usually reserved for those longer in the game than me.  Again that’s just a guess.  For right now, I’m enjoying the ride.

Photo by Joe Austin

Old School Friday at The Peacock Room

November 28, 2011

Last Friday at The Peacock Room, I played an old school set, 80s/90s hip hop and soul.

Because it was the night after Thanksgiving, I was forewarned business might be slow.

To fit the theme, I decided to wear a hoodie.  I wanted to look my 90s Ice Cube best.

Photo by Joe Austin

Last time I DJed a Friday night at The Peacock Room, some patrons worked on my last damned nerves.  One dude kept shoving his cell phone in my face, showing me his music request.  With others?  After playing their request, they returned and made another request.  Then, after that song, they made another request.  On and on they went with that bullshit, playing the DJ like a jukebox.

Tonight, as I played old school, two separate requests approached me for current artists. One dude wanted to hear David Guetta.  After telling  him tonight’s theme, he later requested Stevie B.  For him I played “Spring Love.” A young blonde wanted to hear A Tribe Called Quest and Kanye West.  After telling her the theme too, we settled on A Tribe Called Quest.  For that I played “Award Tour.”

The two women in the following pic requested Latin Freestyle.  For them I played “Fantasy Girl” by Johnny O.

I decided old school for several reasons.  For one, you can hear the current hits in any other bar or night club.  Two, when it comes to The Peacock Room, it’s wise to DJ with a theme.  Before you know it, patrons start requesting songs and genres you definitely had no intentions playing.  Another reason?  Many Peacock Room patrons are in their thirties and forties, a group who would appreciate 80s and 90s music.

Just like I was told, the crowd remained small.  Still, something surprised the hell out of me.  Normally, I would play The Peacock Room on a Sunday.   After word got out I was going to be here on Friday, some  of the Sunday night crowd showed up.  A small town DJ from Sanford, Florida achieved what some big city Orlando DJs only wish they had, a following.  And does my small following pull an attitude about me using a laptop?  Hellz no!  They are more focused on the music versus my equipment.

When it comes to old school, the only thing I’ll do different next time is playing 80s funk and soul first. Beginning the night with hardcore 90s hip hop can almost clear the bar.  In a bar’s first shift of people, folks just wanna talk.  Cypress Hill telling people to throw their sets in the air is not good background music for chatting.  Next time, just like with Miami booty music,  groups like Wu-Tang and NWA might have to go on after twelve.

Too busy worrying about my mix and heading to the bathroom, I didn’t take any photos until towards the night’s end.


Double Booking Events Sucks

November 25, 2011

When I hear I have to share my night with another party, I often cringe.  From my hosting poetry nights in the 90s and on up to my current DJ gigs, rarely have I ever witnessed a positive outcome from double booking two different events.

Often times, miscommunication happens. Already prepared for  my evening, I find out at the last minute something else has been included.  Most times, it’s a band or bands.  Other times, it’s a birthday party.

As this goes on, you never know who told what to whom. Sometimes, you may think a member of the other party disrespected you when it wasn’t even intended.   One night at a local bar, after being told the stage would be free after eleven, another band was setting up at exactly that time. All this time, I’m thinking the bands are being disrespectful.  I’m thinking the organizer for the previous bands promised the bar owner a clear stage at eleven. Now they were going over that promised time. Then, after their performance, a member of the last band mentioned he thought they had the stage until TWELVE!   Like I mentioned before, you never know who told what to whom.

Something similar happened between Steve Roberts (a local tattoo artist) and I. One night, I did a DJ gig at Little Fish-Huge Pond in Sanford, Florida.  This was during the nights I played music behind the bar  counter.  I would connect my laptop to the stereo system located behind the counter.

Anthony Girardi and Steve Roberts

The bar became packed.  As this happened, Steve handed the bar owner his cell phone and requested the owner to play a metal group’s whole album.

What the fuck? I’m thinking. Did this motherfucker just go over my head?

After two or three songs, the bar owner and I decided to hand Steve the phone back.  One or two songs were okay.  But playing the whole album was pushing it.

It was at this time, I found out Steve was having a birthday party in the place.  That I didn’t mind.  Still, I never forgot the phone incident.

As time passed, I eventually started Djing on the stage versus behind the bar counter.  Then, as everyone called me “Stone Crazy”, Steve began calling me “Crazy Stone.”

Damn, man! I thought.  First that phone shit.  Now this crap!

I figured this wasn’t a battle worth fighting. There were more things to worry about versus some dude who can’t get my name right. Despite my views towards him, I decided to be cool with Steve anyway.

I never had anything against his taste for metal music.  I just thought some of it was inappropriate for the evening.  Still, because he requested it, I had to play it anyway.

Yet, Steve tipped more than some people.  Also, he didn’t always pick metal music. Some song requests were appropriate for the evening. Another thing, after someone corrected him, he did start calling me “Stone Crazy” and wondered why I never said anything.

Still, my mind  kept focusing on that phone incident.

As more time passed, Steve disappeared for awhile.  During his absence, my DJing evolved.  Sick of being played like a jukebox, I quit going online for songs and stopped taking every request.  Because I wanted a more woman friendly atmosphere, I upgraded my play list to current dance songs and past dance songs.  I still play rock.  Yet, just like with other music, I watch out for songs that may ruin the evening.

I didn’t think much of Steve until two of his friends (drunk white womenz) aggravated my ass one night.  Seeing how funny it was, I blogged about the incident in the now infamous “I Need To Hear Britney Spears ASAP”.

On that same blog, Steve commented my description of him, something he didn’t like.  He apologized for the name confusion and began riffing my past DJ skills.  He wasn’t aware I stopped going online.  When his comment labeled me a jukebox with a face, it proved why I definitely needed to stop going online for song requests.  Instead of a DJ, folks began seeing me as a jukebox. Then, when his comment said, “Know your role”, I steamed.

Seeing Steve and I arguing on Facebook, Chris V stepped in and explained Steve was referring to my role as DJ.  Still, “Know your role” appeared, if not racist, but definitely elitist. To me that sounded like “Know Your Place”.

After talking through e-mails with Steve on Facebook, I began seeing things differently.  His handing the owner the phone wasn’t intended as a slight.  After hearing he could have a party at Little Fish, I assume Steve had no idea a DJ was scheduled that night.  Even if he did, Steve’s deal was with the bar owner not me.  Naturally, because he made the agreement  with THAT person, he’s going to hand his phone to THEM.  Plus, I didn’t know anything about a party until that night.

I understand bars attempting to make money.  Also, I still got love for Little Fish. Yet, see what happens when you double book two different events?  Some folks walk away with unnecessary beef.  Because of that, I make a personal public apology to Steve Roberts.

Negro DJ Exposed As Racist and Sexist!

November 22, 2011

Dear White Bitch,

I cringe using the words “white bitch”. Yet, that’s who you identified yourself as on my last blog. Speaking of my last blog, let’s show reader’s the ridiculous comment you left. (Click on the pic in order to read it.)

Now I shall address it.

“Reading through your previous posts, all you write about it white people this, and white people that.”        Well, if I don’t pick on white people, who will? On the serious tip, your statement is bullshit.  Of all the diverse things I post, my “race” posts are what you choose to focus on.

“You’re basically a racist.”   You’re right.  I don’t like white people.  Yet, I pose with white women in photos and play “white” music at my gigs in predominately white bars.   Still, you cold busted me.  Only black bigots like myself would own Britney Spears music. Pat yourself on the back for exposing my racist nature, White Bitch.  By the way, Obama 2012.

“You also say nothing good about women.”    You’re right again, I don’t.  Especially when it comes to drunk white women who annoy black DJs.  Instead of pulling the race card, you’re pulling the gender card.  Don’t you love the irony?  According to you, I can’t use race.  Yet, you can pull gender out of your ass.

“Playing songs off a laptop in a shitty bar in sanford does not make you a di, it makes you a loser.” According to who?  You?  Do you even know the definition of the word “DJ”?  Look it up and you’ll find something like this: a person who selects and plays recorded music for an audience.  According to that definition, I accurately fit the description of a DJ.  When it comes to criticizing a DJ’s equipment, I know two types of people who talk like that: other DJs and groupies who will follow anyone they see as important or popular.  I don’t think you’re a DJ.  I think you’re some kind of groupie.

As for the “shitty bar in sanford”, I suspect you’ve been in that place plenty of times.  Why?  Because why would someone call the bar shitty if they have never been there before?  Talking about a place you’ve never been in looks stupid.

Oh yea, Sanford isn’t the only place I DJ in.  I also DJ in Orlando.

“Get off your high horse.”  Okay, White Bitch, let me lay something on you.  You do not tell me what to do.  If I choose to ride the high horse, that’s my decision.  Not yours.  Are you trying to put me “in my place”?

“Looks like someone’s mad they didn’t go to college.”   I honestly do not know where this came from.   Yet, let me point something out.  When you call someone mad, you are referring to mental illness.  The proper word you’re searching for is angry.  You speak better Ebonics than I do.  Are you sure you’re a “white bitch”?  As for your statement, I am angry with myself because I didn’t FINISH college.

White Bitch, I see mostly jealousy in your statements.  What ticks you off about me and my laptop is that I’ve gotten gigs. Me DJing in Sanford, Florida is irrelevant.   You don’t like the fact that what I do works. Incidentally, I know a Lake Mary resident who used to riff about laptop DJs just like you do.  She writes for a local magazine.  Despite your IP address being tracked to Lake Mary, I’m not accusing you of being that woman.  For all I know, you could be one of the drunk white women in my last blog.   A buddy of mine told me one of those women lives in Lake Mary too.

What motivated you to write your statements, White Bitch?  Did you think I was going to stop calling myself a DJ just because YOU said I wasn’t?  Who the hell are you? Did you think labeling me a racist, sexist was going to strike a nasty chord and cause me to cry?  That’s what you were trying to do, weren’t you? You aimed nasty words in order to hurt me.

Deal with it. I’m a DJ who uses a laptop, rides a high horse and talks plenty shit about drunk white women who annoy black DJs.  If you don’t like it, go finger-fuck yourself.

Yours truly,

DJ Stone Crazy

I Need To Hear Britney Spears ASAP!

November 18, 2011

During a Wednesday night DJ gig, two young ladies began annoying me with song requests.   When folks make requests, I attempt finding a spot where the song fits in the mix.   The song could go next or it may go after one or two songs.  But the two young ladies couldn’t wait.  They wanted the songs right now, as if the whole world centered around them and their music choices.

Britney, bitch!

They attended my nights before, a blonde and a brunette.  When I posted photos of my events  on Facebook, Miss Brunette complained about not being in the pictures.  Also, when I took Blondie’s photo, she always complained about how she looked.

Also, they used to attend my nights with guys who always requested angry rock music, the kind involving the lead singer growling the lyrics.  Instead of “Stone Crazy”, one of their male friends kept me calling me “Crazy Stone”.   I never understood that.  As everyone called me by the right name, he called me something different.

After nights of tolerating their male friend’s angry music, Miss Brunette and Blondie now wanted to dictate my play list.

“I need to hear Britney Spears ASAP,” said Blondie.  “I was crying earlier.  I was in tears.  I need to hear Britney.”

As for her tears, I didn’t give a shit.  Just like I wouldn’t care if it was her birthday.   Like everyone else, she had to wait.  The minute you give some people leniency, they take advantage of it.   Before you know it, I’ll be playing Blondie’s requests ASAP all night

After searching the song, it appeared as if the Britney song could go next.

“I’m playing it,” I said.

Then, I physically turned Blondie around and moved her out of my booth.

Miss Brunette kept it up with more requests.  All were songs I didn’t have, which ceased the constant requests.

What annoyed me the most?  After requesting all those songs and demanding them ASAP, these two didn’t even have the common decency to tip.  People are always talking about black folks not tipping.  Yet, apparently some white people possess a tipping problem too.

Next thing I knew, I saw drunk Blondie outside… falling down on the street.  Miss Brunette had to pick her up.  People sitting outside watched too.

“That’s how I like my white womenz” I said.  “Drunk.”

Miss Brunette walked Blondie towards the parking lot located across the street.

I went back inside continuing the evening’s mix.

I can’t make this shit up, one of the reasons why I blog.

Another Last Minute DJ Gig At The Peacock Room

November 14, 2011

Last Sunday, as I enjoyed Rise of the Planet of the Apes in a cheap seat theater, my cellphone ranged.

Knowing how movie goers feel about cellphones, I went, “My Bad.”

I walked to the lobby and answered the phone.

“Hello,” I answered.

“What are you doing,” Joe from the Peacock Room answered.

“Watching a movie.”

“You wanna come in tonight around 10 or 10:30?  We have no entertainment tonight.”


I got there and they did have entertainment, a one man band guy who plays many instruments.  Yet, just like me, he was called at the last minute.

I played most of the night as One Man Band played for about thirty minutes and left.

Here’s some photos.

Oh yea, at the end of the night, Danny got on the mic.

Broke-Ass Friday: Jive Ass Turkey Edition

November 8, 2011

Another Broke Ass Friday happened last Friday night at Little Fish-Huge Pond in Sanford, Florida. The night focused on 70s funk and soul music thus the name Jive Ass Turkey.  Nobody dressed the part. Still, folks had fun.

Most patrons appeared in their twenties, more than likely born in the eighties. Yet, they still enjoyed the music I played.

As I played the likes of Issac Hayes and Labelle, Peter Frampton’s “Do You Feel Like I Do” wound up in the mix too. Actually, the latter was the only rock song I played.  Yea, I played Kiss’s “I Was Made For Lovin’ You.”  Yet, that isn’t a rock song.  That’s disco.

Caught up in the funky moment, I didn’t take photographs until the last song, Chic’s “Good Times” mixed with “Rapper’s Delight” by the Sugar Hill Gang. The only rap song I played.