Answering why everyone is a DJ, and why everyone “hates” us.
 
The mere utterance of the word “DJ” often evokes a visceral spectrum of disgust and delight. There is “DJ” the slur, and there is “DJ” the adornment. DJs have saturated contemporary social and commercial culture – therefore everyone and their cousin has something to say about it! This surge is often lazily connoted with fame-seeking, instant gratification, and minimal barriers to entry– though there is merit to this perspective. I believe this DJ renaissance to be a frantic effort towards memorialization in the face of impending Armageddon.
 
First, let’s define the DJ: a disc jockey in its most elementary form, but in latent terms, a facilitator, conductor, performer, court jester, and at times narcissist. What was once a practice relegated to the far dark corners of the club is now a circus ring. To be a DJ is to have a stage light pointing at you so bright it’s burning your retinas, literally and metaphorically. DJ’ing has become the art of exposure, the ability to instrumentalize visibility into creativity. DJs are carefully and skillfully selecting people and places, in the same capacity that they are doing so with music. Your social curation is as important — if not more so at times — than your sonic curation. Music alone does not guarantee perceptibility, but virality does. This is particularly evident in the never-ending stream of short-form rectangular video content, laden with titles such as “THEY DID NOT EXPECT THIS TRANSITION!!!” or “WATCH ME DESTROY THE CLUB!!!”, among others.
 
So why this ferocious desire to be seen?
 
I want to bring us back to a time where coughing in public was akin to sacrilege. COVID, at least in the Western Hemisphere, was the first time on a mass scale where people had to truly contend with the fragility of their existence. I’d like to postulate that this pressurized chamber of mortality evoked the need for many to be memorialized, including myself. I was suddenly overcome with the fear that there was nothing to remember me by; I was not archivable. Thus, was born my “career” as an artist, whereby I sought to create as many testaments to my existence as possible — perhaps even including this article. I can confidently say that this sentiment resonates throughout the industry, a collective cry of “I am here!” Every mix, every flyer, every party is an affirmation of life.
 
Coincidentally, the “end” of COVID ensued an insatiable appetite for nightlife. People desperately wanted to feel their limbs again. Teens deprived of their rites of passage wanted redemption. Promoters and venues were starved. No one wanted to do drugs in their apartment with their roommates anymore. The need for release was of utmost urgency. This sonic vacuum was filled through the democratized access of DJ’ing and its hordes of pupils in pursuit of memorability. Therefore, at this intersection of apocalypse and emancipation, is the birth of the modern DJ archetype.
 
We hate DJs because they embody much of what we are too proud and ashamed to publicly exclaim: vanity, hubris, and exhibitionism. DJ’ing is the explicit demand for attention. It is bearing to the world your hedonism. Look at me, remember me, and forsake humility. As we descend into Armageddon, to DJ, to engage in any art form at all, is to adorn your shrine and craft your obituary.
What is on your mantle?
 
 
Article by Cheba Iman
Image source : Can you feel it? The information behaviour of creative DJs