You Schmooze, You Lose: An Imaginary DJ Set
By Jennie Willis
During a recent exchange on Facebook, Ashlee Elfman and myself were trying to figure out what one needed to do in order to become a DJ. We both figured that a lot of schmoozing was involved, something neither one of us is really capable of. We both have the desire and the music selection, but lack the butt-kissing skills. If there are any DJs reading this, keep in mind that this is not a criticism of you but a comment on our misanthropic tendencies despite our love of music. However if you play Lady Gaga merely to fill an empty dance floor, then that is a different story.
So, for your reading and listening pleasure, here is a list of songs that I would inflict upon you if I were bestowed the title of Miss DJ at your local club or bar. No, I do not take requests.
Jobriath- Heartbeat
The soothing screech and glittery cacophony of the opening track from the lovingly compiled "Lonely Planet Boy" would be sure to grab your attention. Typically blown off as a poor man’s Bowie, Jobriath is a sorely underrated artist out of New York City by way of King of Prussia, Pennsylvania. Jobriath was the first openly gay artist, something that even the 1970s was not ready for. The music industry could take the innuendo of Bowie and Elton John, but the real deal? Nein. Hence Jobriath was sent to the confetti-littered dustbin of glam history.
“Heartbeat” Opens with Jobriath’s distinctive slightly nasal caterwaul supported by standard 1970s rock composition, as well as Jobriath’s own brand of drug addled piano playing. The lyrics give away our narrator’s adoration of a debauched friend, and the nature of their relationship is given away in the line, " and so you see I couldn't let you leave me be.” The appeal of this song lies not in it’s originality, because we’ve heard this before, but in it’s realness. Jobriath was fearless, and we are happy fools for his dear fantasy in return.
Nurse With Wound- I've Plummed This Entire Neighborhood
Now it gets interesting. Nurse With Wound, AKA Steven Stapleton, is an avant garde sound experiment out of London. NWW has collaborated with Fetus, Sterolab, and Current 93, just to name a few. This track takes it’s title from a line in the David Lynch film Eraserhead; the Lady in the Radiator song is also sampled and mixed in with what I imagine would be the soundtrack to demon possession. Deftly edited tape loops swell and swirl with electronic throbs and plenty of “what the fuck.” More of an art piece than standard dance-your-ass to the music fare, but definitely something that will saturate your brain slowly like a bucket of blood.
Crystal Stilts- Converging in the Quiet
Okay, back to reality. But not too quickly…we don’t want you to succumb to the bends. “Converging in the Quiet” is a dreamy offering from this Brooklyn-based group that hints at the Jesus and Mary Chain but delivers on garage yearning. The guitars swoon and sway in time with the gentle suggestion of the drumbeat. Have you ever walked through Manhattan alone in the early autumn, overcome with feelings of love and hesitation? If so, than this song might be for you. There is a subtle tension to this track, a sense of something unrequited but hopeful. Pushing forward without being pushy. Daydreamers, unite.
The Screamers- Matar Dolores
Hail the Mother of Sorrows. The Screamers were a band out of California during that vital decade known as the 1970s. Originally called the Tupperwares, the group changed their name after legal threats from the company of the same name. Unlike Tupperware, the Screamers did not feel the need to release a single product, i.e. album. The only documents left to us are the videos released by the venerable Target Video of San Francisco.
Combining the punk rock sneer with synth molestation, “Matar Dolores” is a visceral and cerebral ode to being ’loco en cabeza’; think of finding a drum machine pummeling a homeless woman who believes she is a saint in a urine-stained alleyway.
Anita Lane- Jesus Almost Got Me
Closing the night is the woman you wish you could take home with you. She’s working on her sixth or seventh drink, and she’s leaning in provocatively, slurring her story of lost love and redemption. Her hand grazes your arm, and through this one small gesture her inherent sensuality is made all too clear. However there is something wounded, something innocent about her. You feel your aches begin to swell, but at the same time you stop yourself because you can tell that she is not cheap and worth knowing better.
“Jesus Almost Got Me” is off of Anita Lane’s Dirty Pearl compilation. A melancholy country-tinged song, the twang smells of last night’s beer and Lane’s breathy vocals are heavy with barstool longing. Jesus hasn’t caught you yet, child.
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