It was Saturday night and I was ready to DJ.
I collected all of my tunes that I had brought with me and headed out with Ashod in the infamous Khachig (his 4x4 Niva), picking up friends along the way and meeting others there. They said the place was filling up. That was all I needed to hear. I usually don�t get nervous DJ�ing in front of crowds anymore. It�s been about five years since my first gig. I have played at some of the best clubs in Boston including the Hard Rock, Atlas, Cheers, and numerous others. After a while you get used to the crowds and begin to understand the kind of music they want to hear just be glancing at them. I had a taste of Relax the night before as an observer and a dancer, thanks to Number 9. Yet, I still had a �touch of the Turk� (a phrase coined by my friend Antovk Pidedjian) in the stomach.
As the door opened to the club, I was greeted by one of the owners who told me to go to the booth and start doing my thing. The one I have learned in DJ�ing is to always play what the dancers want. Not what you like. I employed that mantra starting off with Madonna�s �Don�t Tell Me� and next with Janet Jackson�s �All For You�. Next with with a Latin song followed by Ricky Martin�s �She Bangs�. In the middle of �She Bangs�, I was approached by DJ Arsen, the house DJ who wanted his seat back. The dance floor was moderately filled with women dancing in front of the mirror and hired gals strutting their stuff on the dance floor. The place looked fine to me, but I got the hook from the house faster than a performer at the Apollo Theater in Harlem on Friday night. After �She Bangs�, I was thanked for my contribution and was offered a free drink on the house. I gulped it fast, took my stuff, and made sure that I threw away that Ricky Martin CD. So much for my DJ career in Armenia. As I walked back to my legion of ten fans in the lounge, they were surprised that my set had ended so quickly. I just gave them a line and asked for another drink. Straight Vodka please!
During the night, some of us got the courage again to dance to the same crap that had been played the night before, skips, repeats, quick-cuts and all. The dance floor eventually filled up again and after a while the gang was back on the dance floor dancing together again in full force. I think I�ll hit Star Time the next time I come back.
Another Vodka Please!
More to come later...
-Raffi Meneshian
I collected all of my tunes that I had brought with me and headed out with Ashod in the infamous Khachig (his 4x4 Niva), picking up friends along the way and meeting others there. They said the place was filling up. That was all I needed to hear. I usually don�t get nervous DJ�ing in front of crowds anymore. It�s been about five years since my first gig. I have played at some of the best clubs in Boston including the Hard Rock, Atlas, Cheers, and numerous others. After a while you get used to the crowds and begin to understand the kind of music they want to hear just be glancing at them. I had a taste of Relax the night before as an observer and a dancer, thanks to Number 9. Yet, I still had a �touch of the Turk� (a phrase coined by my friend Antovk Pidedjian) in the stomach.
As the door opened to the club, I was greeted by one of the owners who told me to go to the booth and start doing my thing. The one I have learned in DJ�ing is to always play what the dancers want. Not what you like. I employed that mantra starting off with Madonna�s �Don�t Tell Me� and next with Janet Jackson�s �All For You�. Next with with a Latin song followed by Ricky Martin�s �She Bangs�. In the middle of �She Bangs�, I was approached by DJ Arsen, the house DJ who wanted his seat back. The dance floor was moderately filled with women dancing in front of the mirror and hired gals strutting their stuff on the dance floor. The place looked fine to me, but I got the hook from the house faster than a performer at the Apollo Theater in Harlem on Friday night. After �She Bangs�, I was thanked for my contribution and was offered a free drink on the house. I gulped it fast, took my stuff, and made sure that I threw away that Ricky Martin CD. So much for my DJ career in Armenia. As I walked back to my legion of ten fans in the lounge, they were surprised that my set had ended so quickly. I just gave them a line and asked for another drink. Straight Vodka please!
During the night, some of us got the courage again to dance to the same crap that had been played the night before, skips, repeats, quick-cuts and all. The dance floor eventually filled up again and after a while the gang was back on the dance floor dancing together again in full force. I think I�ll hit Star Time the next time I come back.
Another Vodka Please!
More to come later...
-Raffi Meneshian
posted by ArmeniaLog at 10:36 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home