Showing posts with label I am a DJ I am what I play. Show all posts
Showing posts with label I am a DJ I am what I play. Show all posts

Friday, June 26, 2009

How to make the white people dance

Just play "The Electric Slide," especially at a wedding reception with an open bar. Great-Aunt Gladys might sit around her house listening to Artie Shaw phonograph records and complaining about kids these days, but when the wedding DJ spins the first two notes to "The Electric Slide," she'll jump right over her walker and knock over some little ones to get in the line on the dance floor.

Because I never learned the dance or how to hide my disgust when the song is played, I can't explain this phenomenon, except to say that maybe the white folks feel confident mimicking proscribed moves. Hence, the line dance craze.

This leads me to my point: Wedding DJs are the biggest dorks in the world (followed closely by wedding bands) and they can't be trusted. I have had two -- count them, TWO -- friends hire DJs for their receptions and specifically tell them NOT to play "The Electric Slide," but they did anyway.

So when Steve and I planned our wedding reception at the dive bar three years ago, we programmed our own music. I like to think nobody we invited knew how to do "The Electric Slide," but I wasn't going to chance losing respect for anyone who loved us enough to join us on our big day by trusting my playlist to a DJ.

What clever people we were as we spent an entire week programming four hours' worth of music! For the first hour, when guests would get there before us, we loaded up the AM Gold, delighting our audience with Barry Manilow, Air Supply, Player and Rupert Holmes. From there we segued through classic soul and into 80s ballads up to the point where we got onstage for the speeches before our first dance, to "Slave to Love."

After that, we picked up the pace. I grabbed the mike and yelled, "Hey everybody, come dance with us to our song!" A few people who'd been served enough to start feeling brave came and joined us for Gran Torino's "Moments With You."

That song ended, and only two seconds into the next song, all my friends -- white, black, gay, straight, hipster, professional -- rushed onto the floor. I was dancing with my arty friend Buttercup. My 5-year-old nephew Banyan, whose miniature tux was unbuttoned and shirttails were pulled out, was busting the moves along with us. Unfortunately, Ban's signature move of spinning around with his eyes closed kept causing him to fall on the floor. Each time, he'd jump right back up and do it again, even after Buttercup yelled, "Somebody cut this guy off!"

The song? "Don't Stop Til You Get Enough."


Michael Jackson - Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough (Official Music Video) - The most amazing bloopers are here