DJ Eighties.

'DJ Qbert has won, like, all these awards everywhere, he's awesome.'

'Yeah, what awards?'
'Says Who?'
'Lemme guess, The Yarmouth DJ World Championships'
'Did he make them in his basement?'

'I'm serious in like 92 to 94 he won DJ of the year and shit.'

'So your paying 20 bucks to see some DJ from the eighties. Maybe he's a little past his prime. pass.'
'pass.'
'pass.'
'20 bucks. no way.'

It was a feeding frenzy. I didn't really know what I was talking about. All I did was read the poster. I didn't even read it well. I guess I should say I skimmed it. They could smell blood. They ate me alive. Mostly, my Hip-Hop-hipest friend Jamie told me it would be good and reminded me that he released a CD bundled with DJ Shadow's Preemptive Strike. Let me just say I would wet myself if I could see Shadow. During my utter defeat on the battlefield of musical credibility and subsequent razzing, I knew, now I HAD to go. No choice, it was a certainty. I only hope was that I'd be laughing last. Shit. Who is this joker anyway? I started to get nervous.

Not nervous enough not to lay out 40 bucks for a couple tickets the next day.

'Who'd you sucker into see DJ eighties? Ha Ha Ha.'
'Ulo... and hey, I didn't SUCKER him, he's into it.'

But I gotta say I was happy to have him on side. I didn't know a soul who was going. Except for Jamies' 'maybe... if I get off work in time,' which was a little unsettling. I haven't ever heard a damn thing he has done. And forking over 20 bucks to stand alone in a mostly empty bar, hollow with the sounds of 'DJ Eighties' echoing my defeat in my ears, inescapably. Well let's just say the idea of it was, well, disquieting. Hasty, ill-conceived, sucker-born every minute, load-mouth, idiot, acting the fool, looking the fool, feeling the fool, being the fool.

This may turn into a three-ring circus of failure, I really hope not. I really didn't really want to be a part of that, really. really. really. I feel so lame the only word I can say is 'really' about the whole thing. It was the answer to every question in my head for two days, it was the symbolic definition of my doubt, my fears.
he sucks. really?
he's good. really?
what if it sucks. I really hope it doesn't
what it's good. I really hope he is.
Is he good? I really think so.
Is he really crappie and eighties? I really don't think so, do you really think they'd say those things about him if he really didn't do them, really?

I hated the word, I was saying it obsessively it seemed to represent the very real possibility of failure. All I had was faith. I'm doomed.

I said it too much. The word lost all meaning. And what a Lame word, I mean really, does really, really mean anything really. Bland. Useless. To me, it utterly defined my weakness, my approaching failure, my foolish big mouthed boob-boobery.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Today's Song of the Day is "Building Steam With A Grain Of Salt" by DJ Shadow off his 1996 debut album "Endtroducing ...."

Crazy Fact: In 1995 "What Does Your Soul Look Like," topped the British indie charts. The crazy thing is it's 40-minutes long.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I think Ulo could sense my insecurity.

'Dude. let's check him out on the net.'
'His site will rock. He's a big name.'
'yeah YEAH. It'll rock, let's check it out.'
googled him. djqbert.com. that's a good sign he's got his own domain name. Excellent! This was an awesome idea!

As the sight loaded I waited for the crazy ultra hip uber-flashed animation to shoot out at me. nope. it just loaded and looked at me. I felt like I was waiting for a glimpse of the face of god and when the clouds parted all I saw was a neon sign repetitively flashing 'face of god' in my face. It took way too long for the excited wide eyed smile to fade from my face as I clicked on links in a futile search for coolness or hipness or some sort redemption.

'Is he Japanese?'
'Maybe, he's Asian for sure.' There was a pause while we stared at the screen.

'Pif, this site is lame.'

I hadn't given up yet. There was a long pause as Ulo watched my sad search through the adequate and very typical pages:
HOME NEWS CALENDAR STORE CONTACT.

'yeah, it is lame. jeeze.' Temporarily overwhelmed by the disappointment of the moment I let out a very revealing 'jeeze' I eyed Ulo quickly but cautiously for any recognition of this momentary weakness. If there was any recognition, he didn't let it show. I turned back to the screen, forlorn. That wasn't a 20 buck website, that's for sure. shit dawg, I'm going down. I gulged at my beer.

'Maybe we can get download some tunes off Limewire'

'Yeah!' I had a new purpose. opened the app. searched it. Lotsa hits. This is a very good sign. Went to get a couple new beer while it loaded.

As I walked by Jim's room I thought. I wonder if Jim is home. I wonder if he is pissed. Am I too loud? I wish he'd speak to me the fucker or at least look at me when I speak to him. I can't wait to get out of this shit hole. fuck it's frustrating. I got back to my room and closed and locked my door which is my habit these days, he makes me nervous. When I got back I eagerly looked over the list.

'COOL! He's scratching Video game samples, street fighter, mortal combat..'

'Mario Brothers! That's awesome.'

I cracked a beer and downloaded with a new found hope. I gleefully slurped at my beer and watched the little bars grow.

'...take me to the promised land!'

Did I say that out loud? I looked a Ulo in the blue light from the monitor, he looked at me and laughed. What the hell was he laughing at? Me? what I said? The situation? I decided it was best not to know and turned back to the screen, intensely waiting for redemption. Really patiently. NO not 'really' never REALLY again. I'm so so SO done with really, no more lame lame lame REALLY's. I'm not even sure of what I'm thinking about anymore, if that fucking file doesn't start playing soon I'm gonna really fucking LOSE IT, really really really I'll really fucking really super ready to really tear-

'you got good bandwidth.'
'yup.'
'you got four comin' in'
'yup'
what are you on?
'eastlink.'
'cool.'

We simultaneous slurped at our beers in silence peering at the tube. While the little gnomes worked away in my head, taking me apart thought by thought.

'Ok let's check this baby out...click.'

We listened. Maybe it was good, maybe it was bad. I had no idea, I was too wrapped up in myself to hear anything but echo's of my inevitable howls of defeat. It was the dippy little mario theme alright with a hip-hop beat and some scratching. Could Jim hear this was he pissed? It's only 9:52 PM! That's nothin'! Come on it can't be too loud. Anyway I'll tell ya it didn't sound worth 20 bucks. Lame. shit it was lame.

'it's ok'
'yeah it's alright.'

We listened to a few more, gulged a few more beers and headed to the show.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Today's Song of the Day "Hold On Hope" by Guided By Voices off their 1999 album "Do The Collapse"

Crazy Fact: I missed these fuckers EVERYTIME they came to town and now they're breaking up. crap.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Time for damage control.

"ok, if it sucks we have to say it was good no matter what. I took such a razzing.'
'ha ha ha yeah I know they were eating you alive, ha ha ha.'

When I go down, I'm going down alone it's clear to me now. Prepare thine self for death young Jedi.

'Man I hope it's not dead.'
'me too.'
'twenty-bucks will keep a lot of people away.'
'word.'
'and it's only Thursday.'
'people gotta work.'
'yup.'

'there's a bit of a line up.'
'that's a good sign.'
We get in line. I try to think of ways to 'turn lemons into lemonade'. All I can see is my 20 bucks going into a shedder. Not working. If it sucks I'll just get hammered and well... I'm sure embarrass myself in some way or another.

I'll just try not to think about anything. Talk to me buddha for once I'm listening.

I watch the faces of girls in front of me as the guy rips my ticket. As they turn the corner I'll know for sure if it's dead by their reaction.
Shit.
It's empty.

Make ready the shit eating grin, piffy my boy, soups on.

We turn the corner.

Hey... (bewildered)
No...(stunned)
It's OK...(confused but smiling)
Opening DJ is pumping out tunes, a decent share of folks spread out through the place. Things are ...well, there ok.

'Keep your eye out for Jamie.'
Jamie instantly emerges from the crowd. 'Hey Guys! whadap? Drinks are half-price.'
'So much for not getting sloshed.'
'This is going to be awesome! This guy is going to blow you away. He's crazy good. Fucking crazy good.'

Jamie's Enthusiasm was contagious. Shit is turning around here. Jamie's got a crew. Drinks are cheap, the place is filling up, it's not too hot in here. well Alright!

'Who is THIS guy?' Pointing at the DJ.
'Don't know, but he sucks, we don't like him.'
I turn to the dance floor. 'tell me I don't look like THAT guy when I dance.'
There laughing made me nervous.

But DJ Whoever sounds ok to me, but, hell Jamie's the hip-hop producer, what the Jesus do I know about it.

I saw an odd looking bunch making there move to the dance floor. It was like a cross between a special missions unit and a side show. Big black guy built like a lumber-jack with a Sixers jersey, a tall white guy dressed all in red head to toe, tuke (sp?), baggy T-shirt, baggy pants, red shoes, the works, a little maybe vietnamese guy about 5' 3" and about a hundred pounds of pure energy and two nondescript sideways hat wearing hip-hop soldiers of fortune. This Hip-Hop A-Team took turns attacking the music.

While they were strutting around, I started to wonder about the actual coolness of this. Is this cool? I'm mean look at these guys. These guys are as much geeks as some guy who plays Dungeons and Dragons and watches too much japanese animation, these guys just do it in public. They sit around in there basements and work out moves, other geeks sit in their basements and roll dice. They have there own language of 'busting moves, jiggy-wit-it' which is pretty easily matched with '13 hit-dice Elf. and the 10th-level Fireball' Geeks are just obsessed hobbyist. Most people are obsessed hobbyist in their own right, but they just won't admit it. TV is a hobby, lotsa TV junkies out there. When people start talking about survivor or Gary Beals with tenacity and emotion, I feel like there talking about there Dungeons and Dragons character and I'm from another planet.

They all think they are rock-stars. There bravado was a little stomach-turning. I don't have much patience for macho and this is so over the top.

Captain red clothes goes down on one knee and the little guy steps in his hand (or something the Sixers's lumberjack guy was kind in my way) and the little guy flies into the air in a psycho-hypnotic acrobatic hip-hop hop-hippery. He flew 14 feet through the air. It was amazing. His legs just crumple underneath him when he hits the concrete floor. He's grabbing he legs and rolling all over the floor I thought he broke them or they must of popped out of the socket. The rolls and spins continue. I can't really see what's going on but a back flip later he was on his feet wiping his forehead and walking back to the crew at the edge of the circle. High-fives all around.

'Holy fuck! That was fucking COOL!'
'Fucking right! Are these guys local?'
'I don't know I'll ask Jamie.'
'yup. there local.'
'shit man, they're awesome.'

Ok, if these guys are geeks, I want in. I'm totally eating my thoughts.

The pre-show continued. There were guys jumping, flying, contorting, spinning, bending, flipping, crazy mutant balances, handstands, by themselves, in unison, in teams of two, three four and a six. There were a couple girls jumping in to the mix doing there crazy trix. It was wholly a show of it's own.

The circle was wide and about ten deep. People stood awkwardly trying to see something between the heads. The red guy stood on his hands and got the crowd clapping to the music with his feet. The little guy was like a fucking ninja, he was a blur of limbs and acrobatics, I'm not even sure he was human at this point. But the guy that blew me away, was the Sixers lumber-jack, I had just watched 'One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest' again and the way he stood tall and thick, just watching, reminded me of 'chief.' Then he moved, like the moment when 'chief' steps in to help McMurphy, surprising though inevitable. He stepped into the circle, first a little of this and a little of that. Then bam he's on the floor kicking his legs rolling, spinning, doing all the crazy ninja moves. This guy was a monster of a human being and he was as quick as a cat. shit. With the little guy it was was to be expected but the strong man here... To me he changed the rules, it was fascinating. It's official, this is sir psycho-crazy's hip-hop circus. I hope the main attraction was worth the price of admission, even still this was something to write home to mom about. Mom are you reading this?


----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Today's Song of the Day is "Rockit" by Herbie Hancock off his 1983 album "Future Shock."

Crazy Fact: Having taken up the piano at age seven, Hancock quickly became known as a prodigy, soloing in the first movement of a Mozart piano concerto with the Chicago Symphony at the age of 11.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The video started up beside the turn tables, Showing DJ Qbert spinning and scratching to crowded stadiums, signing women's breasts, guy's heads, crazy dancers. ok ok this is good this is VERY promising. I can officially say he is NOT DJ Eighties. He has a custom made turn-table called the QFO. Alright this is cool. The video made him look like a Hip-hop uber-DJ, lord of the surrounding realms, commander of thousands in a hip-hop crusade to re-make the world in a hipper hopper image. I like that. And he seemed unassuming in demeanor, he's all skills, no macho. I like that too.

The crowd was getting pumped up
'Mix Master Mike is in the House! y'all!' The crowd freaks out, screaming and jumping up and down.

'really?'
'wow, that's cool.'
'totally!'

This made me happy, the good news was pouring in. Praise God I've heard the good news! Redemption is on it's way.

'Jamie?'
'yup?
'I have the feeling I'm going to meet someone tonight?'
'yeah?'
'yeah. I don't know why?
'here's hoping, cheers.'

I don't know why I thought that. But I did. every once in a while you get that feeling. It's always bang on. I'm sure there's a non-flakey assed reason for this, but I'm happy either way.

The place was packed. the crowded dance floor was screaming and pulsing, arms in the air, the lights were flashing and spinning and the music was pumping and rumbling.

'DEE JAY QUE BERRRRT!"

The crowd goes nuts, people are jumping and screaming, freaking out like Jesus just stepped out on stage in on a Pentacostal Sunday.

He goes straight to the turn-table and gets to it.

My prayers were answered. He was incredible. Most of the time you look around and people would just be shaking there heads in incredulity. I had never seen anything like it. There were three video camera's on him at all times and a bunch of guys taking pictures. They projected closed-circuit live video on the screen and at thirty frames a second his hands were a blur, his fingers hardly even registered. This went on for about an hour. The audience was agape, astounded, he was doing like 128th notes in the slow parts. It was nuts.

The whole thing was like a hip-hop circus no lie...'and now DJ Qbert will scratch, without... touching... the fader.'

The crowd awes and silences. I can almost hear the drum-roll in my head. The concentration in his eyes, the sweat dripping down his face, and he attacks. It sounds much like it did before, very cool, very fast. maybe it would have been cooler if I new what the fuck the fader was for. Nonetheless, I clapped, I jumped, I cheered and got carried away with the crowd. That's the point and the end of the day, it's a rock show. After about 20 minutes of that:

'now DEE JAY QUE BURRRRRRRY with battle DEEEE JAAY EYE DEE in a turn-table war... right... in front... of your eyes.'

So it is written, so it is done. They scrit-i-scra-scri-scra-scritity-tit-tit-titit-scratchity-cra-scra-scratched against each other for a bit, it was very cool. But by this point I got my money's worth and my body reminded me I had to pee, and my empty beer bottle reminded me I needed another, so I made the oft repeated bathroom sojourn. On my way I looked at the entrance.

'Kevin!'
Kevin spins quickly 'Hey Buddy! Is it worth all this cash?'
'It's really good you missed most of it though. Look, I gotta piss, I'll catch up with you in a bit.'

I headed to the can, got another beer and returned to the crew. After the encore, the Jamie turned to me,
'shit man, I gotta go, my drive is leaving'
'cool, gimme a call later.'
'sounds good later man.'
'cya'

I took his chair and sat staring at the emptying stage with a satisfied grin. Ulo turned to me,
'I gotta go too, tired.'
'cool man I'll just finish this then head home.'
'ok'
'later m'man
'it kicked ass'
'it sure did.'
'cya'

I hadn't taken more then one sip of my beer when Kevin appeared.
'Hey man your a hard guy to track down.'

In my victorious bliss I had complete misplaced my conversation at the door.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Today's Song of the Day is "Doo Wop (That Thing) by Lauryn Hill off her 1998 album "The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill."

Crazy Fact: At the February 1999 Grammy awards Lauryn Hill took home five trophies from her 11 nominations, including Album of the Year, Best New Artist, Best Female R&B Vocal Performance, Best R&B Song, and Best R&B Album; the most ever for a woman.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

'hey man! how doing!'
'good man. good.'

short pause.

'So... we need to get you a girlfriend.'

I didn't like that look in his eye, it was hungry with help. Like many things, it made me nervous. After pausing too long, unsure of what to say, I croaked, 'yeah, boy do we ever.'
'Ok lets go find you one.'
'Whoa here? now?'
'Yup.'
'look, I'm not so good at meeting girls.'
'oh come on, it's easy'
'I'm actually pretty shy, in my own way.'
'oh come on.'

He put another beer in my hand and grabs my arm. He peers over the crowd, picks his target and drags me over to the first, and most importantly, the closes female contestant.

I quickly put on my best forced and awkward smile.

'hey how you doing?'
'fine.'
'This is my friend and he is without a doubt the best guy in this bar.'
'really.'
I blush and turn from the unbearable embarrassment. This is too much, it's fun, I'm totally without responsibility, but still, I'm emotionally incapable of handling the situation. I take a few steps back lean against the wall, smile and squirm uncontrollably just out of ear shot, taking momentary glimpses at my representative and the contestant. After an obviously cheerful and witty banter between the two of them, he comes back to me looking for new faces,

'No good. Keep looking. How about her.'

He's got my arm and we're off again. I take a position just out of earshot. My advocate gestures and talks animatedly with contestant number two, obviously, he's got skills and no fear. She laughs. She giggles, she turns and looks at me. She gives a little wave. I wave back. She Asian and very very cute, wow, he can talk to anybody. I try desperately to finish one of the two beers in my hands so I'm not 'two-fistin' 'er' which I'm sure is very attractive to all the wrong people. I finally clean out one of them and Kevin's back.

'Nope, No Good, Let's keep going.'

Upstairs downstairs he tries. He puts me on the auction block and nobodies bidding. Fortunately, he is drowning me in beer otherwise I'd feel rejected by every girl in the bar, which by the time we finished, was essentially true. But with the all the beer in my brain, it just seemed kinda like a race, i'm not sure what for but the less I thought about it the better. I'll just live in the moment.

We sat down for a moment to take a break at my request. Kevin runs off to get more beer. I think I'm in trouble, he has a much higher tolerance then I do. There's a tap on my back. I turn and it's contestant number two.

'Why are you so shy?'
'umm... I guess it's my nature.' awkward
'oh.' she smiles
'umm... Where are you from?' awkwarder
'Korea.'
'Really! That's pretty cool. How long are you here?' feeling better.
'another week, I'm recruiting for ESL school in Korea.'
'oh that's pretty cool.' this is ok.
kevin comes back with a beer in one hand and double rum and coke in the other, he stops in his tracks and wears a stunned, but pleased expression.
she continues, 'Do you know what?'
'what?' felling pretty good.
'You look like Jesus.' she giggles
'wow. oh well, thanks. I'm.. umm.' awkwardest.
'Well it's good talking to you.'
'yeah yeah for sure.' fight urge to run.
'cya.'

Kevin sits down incredulous,
'dude, you should have closed that.'
'see I'm no good at this, she seems really nice and pretty but, I can't do this. It's weird, it's...'
'you could have totally closed that.'
'well, like I said, I'm shy it's hard. I...'
'she is sitting right over there, go talk to her...'
'no no no just forget about her, well will find someone else.'

I'm ready to run at this point, but fortunately, this seemed to satisfy him, thankfully and we moved on. I know his heart is in the right place, but, the closer to 'closing the deal' the more uncomfortable I become. It's forced and awkward and worst of all it's obvious. I can't stomach it.

We take another tour of duty and I'm exhausted, I can't deal any more, I'd just be happy to go home. We sit in the smoking room and Kevin makes the last trip to the bar as it's quarter after 3 in the am. I'm slouched over, drained, frustrated and spent. I look to my right and a girl comes up the stairs, looks at me, stops, smiles, looks at the floor, looks back at me and walks over, I've never seen her before, she's definitely not one of the nightly contestants so far interviewed.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Today's Song of the Day is "Jenifa Taught Me (Derwin's Revenge)" by De La Soul off their 1989 debut album "3 Feet High and Rising."

Crazy Fact: The stage names of all of the members derived from in-jokes: Posdnuos (born Kelvin Mercer, August 17, 1969) was an inversion of Mercer's DJ name, Sound-Sop; Trugoy the Dove (born David Jude Jolicoeur, September 21, 1968) was an inversion of Jolicoeur's favorite food, yogurt. I don't know about Pasemaster Mase (born Vincent Mason, March 27, 1970.)
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

'Hi. I'm Darren's roommate, you...and you know...that time...'
It's really loud and I can't really hear what she's saying, and I'm probably pathetically drunk.
'I'm sorry I don't remember...'
'You NEVER Remember me!'
I remember. 'Oh YEAH ERIN. You're Darren's roommate! Yeah I never remember you! I remember you now!'
'yeah.'
'hey... So... How are you doing?'
'good, good.'

She is REALLY cute.

Now I remember feeling like an idiot for not remembering her the first-time again.

Super-nice smile.

There's something else, i'm not sure... she has a relaxing effect on me and... and well... she's like butter. That's the best way to describe her. She is warm and comfy. perfectly salty, yum. With the nicest warm-yellow glow. sunny. Butter makes everything just a little better, and the fools mistake margarine for butter, the smart ones can tell the difference. Without it, so many of my meals are lacking, it's essential. To me there is no substitute, smooth and comforting.

Kevin, who's fighting for drinks with the crowd, looks back. He can tell the difference this time. He turns back with re-newed purpose and fights the good fight with the remaining, desperate alkies.

'So did you like the show?'
'yeah very much.'
'I stood up right and the front taking it all in.'
'yeah, it's was really really good'
'Today's my birthday!'
Kevin returns, plunks a beer in front of me and one in front of her, 'Your a Leo! That's good news,' Kevin gives me the thumbs up.
She looks at me and smiles and looks down.
'Wow. Happy birthday! How old!
'Today I turned 26.'
'cheers to you.'
A guy steps in to make a move on Erin, Kevin anticipates the move and steps in-between like a body guard taking a bullet it was awesome.
'Did you see that? Your friend totally cut that guy off it was awesome!'
'Hahaha. Yeah, he's pretty happy I'm talking to a girl.'
'really?' She says with a laugh. I think she says everything on the edge of a laugh.
'He has spent the whole night singing my praises to every girl in this bar.'
'Any luck?'
'Well one girl said I look like Jesus'
'I can see that.' she laughs.

TIME TO GO! EVERYBODY DOWN STAIRS. LET MOOOVE PEOPLE!

Instead of flashing back to a million panicked moments. I'm calm, I'm focused, I'm happy. I'm surprised. I wonder why? Well this time I don't run for it. Who knows why.

'my hand is bigger?'
'really?' she laughs
'l think I got an extra key on you.'
'Look at that.' eyes bright. 'I loved Chopin.'
'Me too.'
'the Nocturnes.'
'They're thoughtful.'
'yes they are.'

Wait. I think I know why. because it's not forced. It's not obvious. it's not anonymous. It's not pre-determined. I have no expectations. It's the things it is, as much as the things that it's not that make it...well properly undefined.

People leave and we make are way out in a subtly questioning, carefully interested, delicately available sort of way.

For all of Kevin's valiant efforts, this seemed to make itself, in just the way it needed to be made. This suited my taste perfectly. I liked that. To me, it means there's hope for the weird guy. The guy who, when it matters, gives all the wrong signals. It means there's still room for failure in this nearly 'perfect' world we've created. This cult of perfection: the hair, the clothes, the look; the wit, the social grace, the charisma have not eaten the humanity out of humanity. Not to mention it's still possible for a real connection to be made in any stinking gin palace.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Today's Song of the Day is "Nocturne No. 2, Op. 9 in E-flat" performed by Artur Rubinstein, composed by Frederic Chopin in 1832.

Crazy Fact: In 1838 Freddy Chopin began an affair with French novelist George Sand. The affair ended in 1847 after, among other things, Sand had portrayed their relationship unflatteringly in her 1846 novel Lucrezia Floriani. Yikes!
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------