Angella Johnson VIEW FROM A BROAD
`When I cool the base, rock this place,” chanted the female singer over the mega sound system. I watched entranced as gum-chewing young men wearing headphones and outsize clothes studiously fiddled with vinyl records on industrial-size players.
The Foundation club in Rosebank was certainly rocking. Soon it would be my turn to pump up the volume, though frankly my taste runs more to Luther Vandross – not the head-thumping cacophony which threatened to send me into migraine hell.
But this was South Africa’s first DJ school, and I had to go with the flow if I was to learn how to move an audience to emotional highs and lows with my music.
Disc jockeys have become in the 1990s what bands (you know, the singing kind) were before the onset of house music in the late 1980s – attracting huge followings and almost hero-type worship whenever they play. From beer- drinking clubs to raves and parties, they all need a DJ to whip the crowd into a frenzy.
“Lots of people out there say they wish they were like us. We get people bowing down to us as if we were gods,” explained DJ Adrian – no last name, please, it might detract from his mystique.
Adrian, one of my teachers, has been playing records at gigs professionally for nearly 13 years. “I’m not just a DJ,” said the hyper- active thirtysomething. “I’m an entertainer. I make people happy. I make them enjoy their evening. They don’t need chemicals … I can give them a natural high from the music.”
He claimed the ability to put people into a trance with the right music selection.
“I can kill someone, or put them into a coma. At a Mother Rave recently, I had two people crying with my first track. It’s a gift, but you can learn to get good at it,” he said.
I was forced to listen to this emotionally-charged track (something called Essence by The Promise, or was it The Promise by Essence?), but it only made my head hurt more. Oh, how I craved a spot of soothing Motown.
“I’m going warm all over just listening to it,” gushed Adrian, clutching his chest theatrically. “It’s like playing a mind game with the music, but only in a good way.”
By then I had had enough of his bragging and wanted to get my hands on the equipment. It was time for me to mix vinyl – heck, I had not realised you could still buy those black plastic records.
Apparently there are specialist shops catering just for the club and rave scenes. It’s a steady trade when you consider that each DJ or trainee DJ spends upwards of R300 a week on music.
I donned the headphones and started mixing the beats of two techno records, speeding them up and slowing them down to create my own sound and a seamless change from one to the other.
“You’re a natural,” commented DJ Morgan, one of the other instructors on this eight-week part-time course of theoretical and practical sessions. (Ah, bet you say that to all reporters.)
The DJ Training School was founded by youth magazine editor Teresa Valente, who said it offers hard-working ravers a chance to turn their music-playing hobby into a profession.
Graduates leave with a diploma, “a life-time foundation” and an opportunity to get on the books of Valente’s own DJ agency, which, she argued, acts as a kind of trade union, fixing rates and getting bookings.
Many older DJs are not keen on the idea of dishing out diplomas in playing records (I suppose it’s a little like getting a PhD in nail painting). They believe people should start at the bottom, then slog and kiss butt over a period of several years.
“What we do is help shorten the process by providing easier access to the music industry,” insisted Valente.
Which is why “Jigs” – short for Jignesh Patel (22) – signed up. “I know how to do everything already, but figured this place would give me the exposure with promoters that I need.”
Others, like Jaco Hollander (19), who works for a transport company, plan to make a career in the music industry as sound engineers or promoters. “I want to produce music or work for a record company in some capacity and this course will give me the basis,” he said.
Mika (20), a spunky-looking blonde who works as a girl Friday, was the only other woman in the pack of 15 doing the course.
“I feel I have learned a lot about mixing records,” she said. “It was worth the R1 500 and I’m looking forward to going out there and getting a job now.”
The likelihood, however, is that she will probably not progress beyond working the odd birthday or graduation party in what is still a very male- dominated field. Malcolm Hozack, the 26-year-old (I was beginning to feel decidedly ancient around these people) owner of Foundations, was on hand during one theoretical session to offer advice on getting work.
“They want to know how to approach other nightclub owners without being irritating [now that’s advice worth paying for, eh!]. I tell them not to do so when the owner is busy [I would never have thought of that] or to send in a tape. Instead, they should choose a club and ask to play an early set with the DJ.”
As a good DJ can earn up to R1 000 tax-free for a two-hour set, a pretty reasonable living can be made when, over a weekend, he or she can end up playing several clubs in one night.
“It takes a lot of dedication, like being a doctor or lawyer,” said Hozack.
You cannot be serious, I exclaimed.
“Well, you have to put in a lot of hard work and free time to get better,” he added sheepishly. Yeah, but methinks to compare DJs with doctors is just a tad absurd.
I asked Hozack if DJs had to be of the same age group as their audience, which tends to be between 18 and 30.
“Some of the best are pushing 40 easily. They progress with changing trends – funky house and techno are the popular types of music rocking clubs at the moment – and taste, but that is not really a rapid process.”
It is an expensive business to start out in, when two decks and a mixer could cost anything up to R8 000. But anyone serious about becoming a DJ needs to have their own equipment to practise at home.
As I have better things to do with my money, it seems I shall have to drop out of school without my diploma.
DJ Adrian said I had passed the theory with a mark of seven out of 10. I think he was being kind. But then again, maybe I should ask to play a set with him at his next gig.