The World’s Last DJby World's Last DJ / Images by Two Eyes / 24.03.2014
Vinyl. A beautiful way to collect music and great for sexual innuendo (“what’s big, black and twelve inches?”, etc), but perhaps more importantly – flaunting your vinyl knowledge is a great way to piss off DJs who are younger, hipper, and better than you. To be totally honest, if I’m on a dance floor and the music selection is as dangerous as Oscar with a handgun, I couldn’t care less if a DJ is using Pioneer CDJ-1millions, a Serato implant straight into their cerebral cortex or a Sony ghetto blasta… but why let that spoil our fun.
Here’s a few tips on how to use your grandmaster swag to your advantage:
Put on your vintage 1996 Metalheadz T-shirt, approach the nearest club DJ (don’t have to look too hard these days), assume a smug air and recite the following: “Ja, great set, just not the same sonic quality on MP3 though.” Or if you wanna bring out the big guns, try this: “I know that all 35,000 people went nuts to your set, but I just think that what you did wasn’t valid because it didn’t involve risking permanent damage to your spine by carrying a bag full of tunes that jump all over the place and are hard to look through resulting in you not playing half your best stuff because you couldn’t find them amongst all the other white labels you bought online in an attempt to look like a top DJ”.
Let’s be clear on a few things though. Firstly, you only get to wind people up about vinyl if you’re over 30. If you remember a time when there was no debate. It was vinyl, or go home and listen to your transistor radio. It was a struggle, and if you went through it then – you have the right to yank the collective chains of the young, hip and talented with your smug vinyl-centric remarks. If you are under 30-years old then you are no more part of the struggle than a 17-year old farm boy singing Boer war songs in his Earl’s Court London flat the night before yet another day earning the Great British pound as a teller at Natwest Bank. Don’t pass go, don’t get paid R20 and a pack of dry roasted nuts by the nearest coke-fiend of a promoter… just do not enter the great vinyl debate. Dedicate your time to purchasing CDs or lossless MP3s so you can irritate the shit out of the teenage generation in years to come.
If over 50% of your vinyl collection consists of Musica represses, you don’t qualify either. Also, if at least a quarter of your collection doesn’t consist of 18-piece vinyl box sets consisting of 17 one-tune-per-side plates, that you wouldn’t dance to if you were white-boy drunk, and 82 tunes, including the one tune that you’re desperate to own, crammed onto one side of the 18th record (complete with Mayan etching on the other side), then you’re faking it. In fact, unless you own a piece of vinyl that still has bits of Brandon Block’s gak pressed into the grooves, you’re less real than Tamsanqa Jantjie’s “Sign Language And Clever Kak” degree from the University of Northwest Nowhere.
Unless you’re a Techno DJ of course. I like Techno, but I don’t have the budget or the technical competence to own the correct technology to play it. If the device you use to play your “Futuristic Urban Street Soul” (or whatever weed-fueled nonsense Detroit calls its music nowadays), isn’t more advanced than R2D2 with Service Pack 3 installed, then it doesn’t really matter what you think about vinyl because Richie Hawtin is about to dispatch a T-1000 to beat you down worse than a ginger-haired David Guetta fanboy.
Still with me? Great, you’re probably my kind of music fan. Now let’s get together for a braai after Fiction next Friday and we’ll swap stories about how expensive vinyl is, how easily it gets wrecked, how bloody heavy it is, and how we can’t wait for Lucky Spin to put their entire back catalogue out on MP3.
Image © Two Eyes