The Secret DJ: Shift change

I always dread the DJ booth shift-change. One ego handing over to another. It’s a higher state of awkwardness. It works both ways for incumbent or arriviste. Amateurs make an entrance, pros keep the vibe. Wankers hog the booth, pros make a smooth transition. Nice people say hello, nasty people frown and mumble. Have I made my point yet? Yeah. Don’t be a dick.

This bunch are not happy to see me. Which is par for the course, but tends to get out of hand when there’s an entourage involved. I’d arrived 15 minutes before I was due on. For me, this is late, but to many – especially those on tight schedules with several gigs over a weekend – it’s normal. If the incoming DJ shows signs of being late, the incumbent often gets a little thrill, a sense that they might be able to perform for longer. Then there’s crushing disappointment when the next DJ appears just in time. It’s the only explanation I have for the wall of animosity that sometimes greets you. It may just be plain envy. It may be the hangers-on ‘supporting’ their hero by hating the next DJ. Maybe they met me before. Who the fuck knows? I spent decades as the warm-up. It requires superior skill. It will eat your ego alive if you are ambitious. The trouble with the mega-clubs is the DJ on before often isn’t a regular hard-working resident, they’re a star in their own right. “Star”. Yeah, I know.

So I sheepishly navigate the glaring hostility. I meekly squeeze past those who are not meant to be in my working space. I make myself as small as possible. It’s bad form to make a fuss and cast a shadow over someone else’s limelight. At this point some help would be useful, but the last I saw of my tour manager he was scouring the venue for women with a 360-degree lechery beam. I wrestle my kit through the phalanx of derision and turn to find the usual heap of bags, coats, purses, computers, cloaks, hats, furs, phones and general detritus clogging every space available. The correct form is to make a working space for an arriving DJ. But this is a sit-in. Occupied territory. It clearly isn’t going to happen without a fight.

DJs know when their time is up. We count it down, we pace our work to match the time-frame. Come 10 or 15 minutes to the end of your set you start looking out for the next one up. You start tidying your bits and packing up. Five to and you’re unplugging your headphones. If the next DJ is stressed or needs to breathe, you might politely offer to “play one more”. It’s a courtesy. He or she may ask it of you first. There’s usually some sort of exchange, ‘the old booth shuffle’ I call it, like getting changed on the beach under a too-small towel.