The Joy of Decks

Somehow I got invited to DJ at a 500dh a head Golf Tournament dinner soiree at the Majestic Restaurant, through a local contact. On being told it was the high end society crowd with average age 40-60 I began to have kittens as we say in England when slightly nervous. This is only because my curious blend of house, Latin, afro Latin, Spanish sundown and vague chart hits confuses even me at the best of times.

So it was with some trepidation that I set up my kit the night before with a local PA hire firm who seemed to surround me with several microphones, I kindly informed him I wouldnt be singing a medley of current Gnoua or Sufi chants, so they werent necessary to which he smiled strangely.

Arriving at the gig I was preceeded into the venue by a group of desert attired Berbers who had come up from the Sahara, and they set up their drums and sinister, stringy instruments in front of the decks, hence the need for the microphones I guess. I had been told I was on from 9-2 with no real idea of how I was to entertain a 100 seated, buffet stuffing, Moroccan golf loving afficianados but jazz seemed to be the obvious place to start. Very inoffensive opening I thought so introduced a bit of Latino to which the Berbers ears pricked up and they started playing along, one even sourcing a Flamenco guitar and strumming along, result(1) I thought.

From here on in it got slightly strange as during the buffet, which was a fantastic Majestic spread by the way, The Berber Desert Crew bongo-ed and strummed, followed by me playing between two and three records before there was a stop in the proceedings. One stop was for a huge, swarthy comedian who went on and on with varying degrees of success followed by the presentation of the golf prizes. At each stage I was ready to launch into my multi-purpose set to no avail as on went the band again to step up their riddims so that the once coutured and implacable guests were now a frenzied, head tossing, bongo bashing melee in front of me.

Great, I thought, they are warmed up nicely now for a samba, Brazilian mash-up DJ finale only for the band to finish at 1pm and everyone went for their coats. I had time to slip in a quick couple of big beat numbers which got a few movers shaking as well as the bar crew who were definitely up for a party, before the first of the many BMW convertibles scooted away from the car park.

So there were no litter of kitties as my grand total of playing time was probably 43 minutes plus an invite to stay in the desert from my new Saharian brothers, result (2) I thought again!