''Get down, Saturday night, Saturday night....the sweet tones of Oliver Cheatham pumped through the Bose speakers as i struggled with my record bags to make my way downstairs in the club.
It wasn't even Saturday, it was another Friday night in the busy soon to be sweat box of Covent Garden.
Dj P had 'em jumping, he had 'em soul shuffling and if there was any room, he'd have 'em back-flipping...but he had them..no question.
He loved to start off the evening on a Friday, spinning old classics like the aforementioned Oliver Cheatham track or maybe a Sister Sledge joint. He knew what the crowd liked..we all did. After his set i'd then go on and do my thing...who am i?
My name is Nice...Dj Ed Nice to be precise.
From 7pm till 1am, every Friday & Saturday, this was the place to be as far as we were concerned.
Good music, good people(mostly) and sweet vibes.
Sometimes early on, the night would be a little slow, you know...a few people at the bar talking the talk, new lovers being impressed by their new players...''Oh yes i always come here, me and the manager are like this'' they would lie.
We'd be in the dj booth, P, Shakes, Stone(sometimes depending on rotation..i worked most weekends) & me laughing at last week's shenanigans or an outfit that wasn't cross-checked in the mirror before the villain came into the venue.
Sipping a JD & Coke and mentally mixing my tunes...i was getting into the zone.
We'd throw down the dj gauntlet when the night was slow...the challenge was to get a few people dancing on the floor and see who managed to keep them.
Or we'd play 2 tracks each in rotation, big tracks that would simply dismantle the previous dj's choice...just to let them know they were NOT READY!
Mostly floor-fillers, but never crap fillers!
Hahaha, we were dj's , ya hear? Full of life, full of music, full of ourselves..lol
The time would drift and more night people would arrive, thirsty for music, drink and anything else that complemented their evening.
P would signal me to go on and take over.
Fingers shuffled quickly through the bags...one track, just one track to open my set with..just one..now which bag? aaah yes, here we go.
From the sleeve to the deck...no need to look at the markings on the record, they were ingrained in the brain.
The vinyl was to be caressed, stroked lovingly on spinbacks, cued in anticipation and released to to the orgasmic satisfaction of the horde...''My man, that's a tune''...''Good Lord. where you get dat''...''Homeboy, beg you a mix tape, man'' ''Mr Dj, yah killin' me''
Aaaah yes, the track...Atmosfear - Dancing Into Outer Space. Subliminal boogie!
And on it went, track after track, tune after tune..the crowd appreciating the work, the ladies in particular wanting to show more appreciation when your shift was done.
You felt it too and you wanted to show your male attention to that female appreciation right back, right there and right then...but what about the music? Once you were in your zone, you couldn't leave, why? Because you could play all night long, all the way through the morning, all flaming week as long as the crowd were feeling you. Getting paid didn't mean sh*t at that moment...
The pushed up chest in your face, the whispered sweet nothings in your ear, the brazen attempts on your manhood, the fit latina with the cuban heels, the doe-eyed brown girl in the mini, the blue-eyed blonde tossing her hair in your direction, the brunette friend of the blue-eyed blonde dancing strictly for you...of course it was all for you and that was what you believed..whether it was true or otherwise.Why? because you were the big cheese, the big kahuna, the Don Sqahib, the icing, the guv'nor..THE DJ!!!
The music, the music, the music could never ever stop, not whilst i was on this adventure.
©2008
Dj Ed Nice.
Some names have been changed to protect the absolutely guilty.
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