Archive for February 2012

Usual Playlist Gets Kicked To The Curb

February 26, 2012

I ain’t going to front.  Tuesday nights has been suckin’ recently. Fewer and fewer people have been attending.

So, for the hell of it, I stopped playing my usual chill music, music featuring the likes of Portishead and Tricky.  First, I played “I Don’t Mind”, a drum-n-bass number by Urban Soul Selective featuring Elizabeth Troy.

At this time, a white couple was sitting at the bar counter, a couple who looked thirty-something.

I handed both of them a copy of recently made flyers.

I played UB40’s “Falling In Love” next. The woman began tapping her feet to it.


A white guy who looked fifty-something walked in.  After ordering his brew, a woman walked in and joined him at the table. Both dressed somewhat professionally, as if they were lawyers.

I gave these two flyers also.

The first couple left. Yet, as the dude left my flyer on the bar counter, the woman kept hers.

Next, I played Incognito’s soulful version of “Tin Man”, a song originally released by folk rock band America.

But Oz never did give nothing to the Tin Man/ that he didn’t, didn’t already have…

I stayed on this vibe for the next couple of songs.  When I landed on Des”ree’s “You Gotta Be”, the woman from the second couple kissed the guy on the cheek.

You gotta be cool, you gotta be calm/you gotta stay together…

Three more people entered and sat at the bar, two white guys and a white woman.  All three looked to be in their thirties.

As I continued on my vibe, two more white guys and a woman entered. These folks looked to be in their twenties. One of them (Kyle) was a regular.  His friends began singing along with Roberta Flack’s “Killing Me Softly With His Song”.

“That’s the original version!” I yelled.  Many people may recognize the Fugee’s version.

I gave these three flyers too.

Sung by Obama

About three songs later, I played Al Green’s “Let’s Stay Together”.

“Sing it, Obama!” I yelled.

Every since The President sung it, I’ve been playing the song a lot more.  I am very damned proud to have a President who can sing Al Green.  It’s the best thing since having a president who played the sax.

Because they seemed unamused, the other three people at the bar worried me.  Yet, their ordering another round quieted those worries.

Soon, I drifted into faster paced music.  Yet, these were mostly sounds from the 80s and 90s, folks like Soul II Soul and Michael Jackson singing “Scream” with his sister Janet.

The sing-a-long trio had already left. So, did the couple. A guy from the other trio requested “Two Princes” by the Spin Doctors.  (And where the fuck is that group now?)  The same guy requested two more songs: “Who’s Johnny?” by El Debarge and “I Get Around” by Tupac.

Yet, as him and his two friends left, it was the other guy of this trio who thanked me and left a ten dollar tip.  The dude who requested three songs from me didn’t tip me shit. Also, unlike his two friends, he left the flyer I gave him on the bar counter.

Here’s something I’m starting to notice. The more hip-hop and soul I play, the more and better tips I receive.  This happened during my 90s hip-hop gig two weeks ago.

Also, I noticed folks seemed to have a better time versus my previous Tuesday nights.  As long as people know most of the songs, they don’t mind listening to chill music.  Another thing, contrary to popular belief, you don’t always have to play the current hits.  Sometimes, it’s best to leave that to spots who cater to douche-bags and bimbos.

I don’t know about turning Tuesdays into a full soul and hip-hop night.  Yet, I do know I’m playing more if it.

Exploitation Night: Chained White Woman, Stuffed Wild Bikini and 80s Teen Sex

February 23, 2012

Last night’s DJ gig contained ups and downs.  After taking a walk to the riverfront and back to the bar, I joined the rest of the patrons in viewing Black Snake Moan.  Now, that’s my kind of movie for Black History month, a black man chaining a white woman. 

“Chain that white woman!” I yelled.

Apparently, by the look on his face, this upset an uppity gay patron, a fifty-something white  guy I never liked.  All I did was yell testing in the mic one night, and this idiot looked at me and left the bar.

When he left during Black Snake Moan, I said this to a patron, “He’s just mad because Samuel L. Jackson didn’t put him in chains.”

As I enjoyed the movie, tonight’s low attendance worried me.   Earlier,  rain heavily poured all over Central Florida. Media thunderstorm alerts happened too.

After the movie, I started playing 80s new wave/punk.  Actually, it was a sixty minute mix I had playing.  Because we had five people in the bar, three patrons with the owner and I, I didn’t feel like doing anything.  So, I played one of my mixes, a mix including New Order, Yaz and Erasure.

Around ten,  things did start picking up.  By this time, How To Stuff A Wild Bikini was showing, a sixties beach movie starring Annette Funicello.

With the music, I stayed 80s. Yet, when a Hispanic group including dudes and ladies walked in, I shifted into 80s soul.  As I did this, I found out one of the ladies was a Prince fan.  Oh yea, some of the folks in this crew were friends of mine.

After the beach movie, a teen tittie movie played, one involving the typical teen male trying to get laid as the movie shows plenty of tittie scenes . These movies were extremely popular during the eighties.  Because I was under 17 at the time, I had to wait for these R-rated beauties to hit the video store.  Plus our apartment complex didn’t have cable yet.   Presently, all you have to do now is turn on Netflix and presto! Instant tittie movie!

After that movie, another tittie movie showed, one I never saw but I recognized the title: Hardbodies. Matt,a dude around my age, requested this.  Daniel, our twenty-something friend, sat next to Matt at the bar counter.

I mentioned something about Matt corrupting youth.

“Hey, I’m just introducing him to Hardbodies,” Matt said.

For awhile, I went to 90s hip-hop, something I overdid.  Then, I played current hip-hop and shifted to what is now called Electronic Dance Music, the same thing folks used to call techno.

Before the night was over, I was told the Prince fan wanted to have a birthday party during one of my gigs.

At the night’s end, I closed with Afroman’s “Because I Got High.”  I was going to close with “Buy U A Drank”.  After playing it, I felt I had to sneak in another song.

Every Wednesday, the bar features obscure movies like Dark City.  After next week’s feature, I might request another teen tittie movie from the 80s.









Dirty Hip-Hop and 90’s: A Night With No Fighting

February 20, 2012


Two Saturdays ago, I DJed a birthday party at Little Fish-Huge Pond in Sanford, Florida.


It was my buddy Chris Valladares’s 33rd birthday.


As the main event was Chris’s birthday, the night was advertised as me playing dirty hip-hop and 90’s music.

Because I play old school, the 90’s part didn’t surprise me.  The dirty  part definitely did.  Truth be known, I do play some of the raunchiest music in town: “My Dick” by Mickey Avalon, “The Whisper Song” by The Ying Yang Twins and Missy Elliot’s “Work It”.  I just never saw it as a genre.  I play nasty music because women dance to it.

During this weekend, a film festival centering around short films took place, Sanford’s Show Us Your Shorts.  I assumed this contributed to the night’s packed house.

Even Sanford Mayor Jeff Triplett came by.  That’s him on the left posing with my buddy Eliot.


Speaking of the 90’s, Barrie Freeman showed up.  That’s her on the left.

Back in the 90’s along with William Waldren, Barrie owned Yab Yum coffeehouse, a Downtown Orlando spot where I once hosted poetry readings.

In this next pic, a regular showed up with her mother.


I played 90’s hip-hop during the first half of the night.  A white guy who looked a young twenty-something began making an ass of himself.

“Play Joe Budden,” he went.  Then, he started naming other current hip-hop acts.

“I’m playing 90’s, bro,” I said.

Then, he started naming 90’s act.

“Hey, is Ol’ Dirty Bastard back in jail?” he asked.

“Ol’ Dirty Bastard is dead,” I said. As of this writing, he’s been dead for over seven years.

“For real?” the guy went. “Ol’ Dirty Bastard is dead?”

“Yep,” I said.

I noticed the irony: down with hip-hop, but didn’t know Ol’ Dirty Bastard was dead.  What’s even more ironic?  These are the idiots who get jobs writing about hip-hop.  Or even worse, wind up owning hip-hop labels.

As the night went on, I noticed something else: a hip-hop night with no fighting.  Another Downtown Sanford spot always play hip-hop, and that place always have fights.  Before you get it twisted about race, mostly white people hang out at that joint.  On this night at my spot, none of that bullshit happened.