For years I spent all my evenings DJ’ing, while I was spending my days working at an office, sitting in a cubicle and staring at a computer screen. At some point I decided it was time to make the transition to DJ’ing full time. Before I founded Beat Train Productions I approached several DJ companies and asked them to allow me to come along and observe them DJing at weddings and other private events, so I could learn from their experience and expertise.
So, without further adieu, let me share with you my enlightening adventures mentoring with some of Boston’s “top” disc jockey agencies. (and please note, ladies and gentlemen: the story you are about to hear is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent.)
Bozo The DJ
So my first apprenticeship was with one of the most experienced and successful DJ’s in the biz (who also was voted “Best DJ in New England” according to his website, which curiously, does not cite which publication actually awarded him that distinguished honor). So when I was offered an opportunity to observe him in action, I was looking forward to seeing a good example of a DJ that really has mastered their craft and who’s able to make DJ’ing seem effortless. What actually transpired turned out to be quite different.
I arrived at the gig, in Arlington, Massachusetts, about an hour and a half early (I am compulsively punctual, and I have no shame about it). After spending the next hour wondering where the DJ was, DJ Bozo finally showed up a half hour before the gig (An hour for the DJ to set up is generally considered the bare minimum for any responsible mobile DJ). He was visually flustered and profusely perspiring.
As Bozo stumbled out of his SUV, I extended my right arm, in what I perceived to be the typical human being greeting ritual, and said “Hi, my name is Ari, nice to meet you.” Naively, I was expecting him to reciprocate and shake my hand. Instead he put his hand on my face and interrogated me about when I had last shaved (I hadn’t shaved since I went to sleep the night before, a whole 9 hours earlier).
At that point, DJ Bozo, along with his DJ assistant (who happened to be a 15 year old girl who splits her time between school, cheerleading, and working as a DJ assistant), did a splendid job setting up and managed to finish a whole 5 minutes before the gig was scheduled to start. At that point, he told me it was time for us to go into the Men’s room and change up. I was a little surprised that he felt it necessary for me to change, seeing that I was wearing a very nice suit (anyone who’s come to see me DJ has probably noticed that I put a considerable amount of effort into dressing sharply and having my suits custom tailored), but I reluctantly agreed. As if things weren’t already getting awkward enough, Bozo went over his philosophy of DJ’ing with me while he was changing his clothes (unfortunately, while I could have probably learned profoundly valuable lessons on being a DJ from his speech, my utter state of shock prevented me from properly soaking up all his knowledge). He then told me that wearing a suit jacket was totally inappropriate attire, and it would be necessary for me to change into official Bozo DJ Inc. sanctioned clothing. Reluctantly, once again, I agreed. While Bozo seemed oddly aroused with my new sparkly vest and clip on tie, somehow I did not feel like such a stud.
Over the next four hours, while I prayed that no one would show up that I knew, DJ Bozo proceeded to dazzle the crowd with his mildly proficient DJ skills, comedic hyjinks (which would definitely be good enough to warrant him getting his own late night public access TV show), and inspired instructional dance moves (seriously, this dude can do it all-it’s a shame he hasn’t been given to opportunity to audition for American Idol). Well, actually, to be fair, he dazzled about half of the crowd, which was bumping and grinding like they were auditioning for the newest Richard Simmons dance/weight loss DVD (Dry Humping to the Oldies, Volume 5). The other half of the crowd, curiously, seemed rather turned off by the mix of tacky music and unapologetically cheesy MC’ing.
To be fair to DJ Bozo, I definitely might have misjudged why half of the crowd was utterly alienated. We live in a complex world and sometimes people’s actions are due to factors that are not immediately apparent. Perhaps 100% of the people loved the mix of tacky, played out songs. Maybe everyone was utterly enchanted by Bozo’s stale attempts at comedy. And it’s conceivably possible that everyone found the trail of sweat that followed Bozo wherever he went, to be somehow reassuring.
So in that case, what was the big turn-off for these otherwise would-be non-stop 24-hour party people? Well it definitely wasn’t our clothing. We were all decked out in the finest sparkly vests and clip on ties that money could buy. But maybe people found it slightly uncomfortable that DJ Bozo was constantly verbally abusing his Cheerleader/ DJ Assistant throughout the night. And Perhaps people found it unsettling that he yelled at her when she refused to play “YMCA” or when he flipped out and confiscated her cell phone when he caught her text messaging. But who knows, maybe the crowd found their dysfunctional relationship to be entertaining. Maybe, after all, they just might have been turned off by his severe body odor (which, unfortunately, couldn’t be tamed, even with his constant use of spray on deodorant). Or maybe they didn’t mind the smell of BO mixed with deodorant, but just found it to be rather unusual that he was spraying himself with the deodorant while DJ’ing at the same time.
I’m sure I could have learned countless valuable lessons from Bozo, but sometimes a man has to trust his gut feeling. My gut feeling told me it was time to say “sayonara” before things got weirder. So, with a tear running down my cheek, I took off my favorite sparkly vest and headed back to Cambridge, never to see Bozo again.
Over the course of several bizarre hours I learned many invaluable lessons that I will forever cherish. I’d like to dedicate this blog post to a man that inspired me, the great DJ Bozo.
Anyways, this post is the first installment out of several true stories, recollecting the several months I spent shadowing some of Boston’s (apparently) most successful DJ’s. Stay tuned, they’ll be more to come soon.
