Nightlife 2000

>> Plan-B, eh? So you wanna be a DJ? A Brass Knuckles crewman reflects on the road to superstardom

by SCOTT CE

I can remember when the most important thing I had to worry about as a DJ, in Toronto, was whether or not I was going to stick to the masterful and highly original name that I had come up with for myself (DJ Naps). The prospect of having to take a crate of records on the subway was always a little sketchy too, but travelling the equivalent of a $20 cab ride to play for a couple of free beers didn't bother me then. I sure as hell can't say the same now.

I arrived in Montreal in 1996 affectionately known as DJ Plan-B, another clever name I had stolen from an American skateboard team from the '80s. I used to think that I unconsciously settled on that name because I was pretty much a second-string DJ for a very long time. I would get asked to play at parties where there were so many other people spinning before me that by the time it was my turn to throwdown, people were walking in with Egg McMuffins and coffee.

I played to a lot of empty rooms and drunken fools, and heard every excuse in the book about why I wasn't getting paid that night, but took what I could get. I knew I was a pushover, but I also knew that I was quickly becoming more and more confident behind the decks.

Jonesing for wax

Thinking back on those days, it was only when I stopped borrowing records from my roommate that things started to change. My roommate was this guy who I'd known since we were kids. He was an only child, and the only child in my entire neighbourhood who actually owned two Technics 1,200 turntables. The little bastard got them for his birthday in 1988 (!), and I used those same turntables to hone my skills while he was off studying to be a chef. His record collection consisted of mostly hip-house, a little hip hop and hi-NRG dance, and I used all of it to learn the ropes. I had already been buying hip hop on tape for years, but I didn't buy my first 12" single until 1992.

Vinyl is an embarrassingly addictive vice. Ask anyone with a substantial collection how many times they've spent their grocery or rent money on a pile of must-have records. Get them to explain how hard it is to go into their store of choice and leave empty-handed, or ask them why they don't own any CDs. These are hard questions for a vinyl addict.

One of the smartest decisions I ever made was to team up with Dave Yan as a duo. We got way more gigs as a result and eventually managed to generate a mild following and start a club night. DJ Serious and DJ Naps, bka "Da You Know Whos," rocked Lola's Lounge in Toronto every week for just over two years, but we made one grave mistake. In an effort to pool our resources and snag as many dope records as we could from week to week, we started buying records together.

Kids! Don't do like Plan-B!

Because we were playing together all the time it just seemed logical, but it later came back and bit us both in the ass. Like the most pathetic and petty divorcing couple you ever saw, the custody battle for a lot of those records was long and draining. When we stopped playing together, we didn't really talk for almost a year, which was hard considering how far we'd come. We're still tight, but I learned some valuable lessons between '92 and '95 that I'll leave with all you prospective DJs.

1. Don't change your DJ name every two months. If you have fans, you won't have them for long.

2. Never play at a wedding unless it's in your own family or you're promised a small fortune.

3. Don't carry your records in orange Glad garbage bags.

4. Be patient. The guy playing ahead of you will be done soon.

5. Play the shit that speaks to you and gets you open. Hopefully the crowd will catch on.

6. Always collect your records from the trunk of the cab.

7. When people ask for obscene requests like Cyndi Lauper or Tone Loc, say you'll play them.

8. If someone bumps the record in the middle of the song, get a bouncer to stand right in their face for the rest of the night.

9. Get paid before starting a fight with the club owner.

10. Don't always play it safe. It pays to take a musical risk now and then. Q