Over
the past few years I’ve been slowly working my way through several of the key texts
that document the rich tapestry of (relatively) recent popular music history.
There’s been Jon Savage’s seminal history of punk, ‘England’s Dreaming’, Simon
Reynolds’ post-punk tome ‘Rip It Up And Start Again’, and most recently, ‘Last
Night A DJ Saved My Life’, the history of the disc jockey, courtesy of Bill
Brewster and Frank Broughton. As we head into 2013, the spine of a crisp brand
new copy of Lloyd Bradley’s ‘Bass Culture’, a journey into Jamaican dub and the
world of soundsystems, stares back at me – unread – from the bookshelf at the
foot of the bed.
But
it’s ‘Last Night A DJ Saved My Life’ that concerns me here. I’ll get around to
reviewing the others eventually. First published in 1999, I picked up the
updated 2006 edition of ‘Last Night’ a year or so ago, so that is the version
under review here. And while that might not seem overly significant at first
glance, the additional seven years of coverage is useful in terms of adding more
perspective to the state of the DJ art as it exists today, in 2012, with the
current “DJ-as-performer” scenario now firmly ensconced within mainstream
culture – a very recent development, one that seemed highly improbable when the
book was first conceived.
 |
| 2 editions of Last Night A DJ Saved My Life |
Brewster
and Broughton kick things off by taking us way back, a full century, to the
start of radio, drawing together the loose strands of the wider history of
sound; the evolution of the gramophone, a quick foray into the earliest
recordings, the first DJ broadcasts, and a look at where things were at on an
international scale etc. Working my way through the early chapters I soon
become aware that this is not only the history of the DJ, it’s the history of
dance music, and more than that, it’s the story of a cultural phenomenon … the
power music has to draw people together. To gather people from all backgrounds
and creeds to one place, a mass gathering of like-minds, to celebrate a love of
music, of dance, and of (gag reflex alert) other human beings. I’m sure there’s
a thesis waiting to be written there: Nightclubs are the new churches, discuss.
Understanding
the social impact of venues like the Wigan Casino in northern England, for
example. Digesting the monumental influence clubs like the Paradise Garage and
the Loft had on New York nightlife in the late Seventies and early Eighties –
an influence that remains omnipresent today. And I personally had completely
overlooked just how important the roles of the gay and (for want of a better
word) “outsider” communities were in laying the foundations for the phenomenon we now
know as clubbing.
 |
Larry Levan of Paradise
Garage fame |
And
so we move from Northern Soul to Reggae, through to Disco and its offshoots
like Hi Energy and House, from Soul to Hip Hop and its roots, then into more
specific strands of contemporary dance music – Garage (both US and UK), Techno,
Balearic, Acid House, and beyond. Right on up to the present day where
discussion focuses on that most peculiar thing: the Superstar DJ, the guy who
becomes the music he plays, the one who is now just like any other “artist” or
band, a solo performer who creates something fresh from segments of someone
else’s original piece of art. The age of the DJ-as-composer/producer. Recent
examples would be the high profile likes of Tiesto, Armin van Buuren, Skrillex,
and David Guetta (spit). Just compare and contrast the pop charts of 1987 with
those of 2012 for the removal of any doubt about where the DJ now sits in terms
of mainstream/public consciousness.
We
get overviews on the key places people gathered, the cities that hosted them, so
many of the more high profile clubs and venues being much shorter lived affairs
than I’d previously imagined. And loose profiles of the messiahs who held
court at those venues – the leading DJ’s themselves – often prove hugely revealing
in their depth and relative intimacy. That might then be expanded to a whole
scene, or linked to a specific genre. The birth and subsequent expansion of the
Ibiza scene, for example, is an especially compelling section.
Of
some wider social interest in one of the later chapters, there’s a look at the
drug culture that surrounds popular music in general, but clubbing
specifically. After talking us through that whole crazy Rave/random party scene
in the UK, circa ’88-’93, there’s a discussion about the drugs that fuelled it –
particularly the use of euphoric chems like ecstacy. We learn of the
legislation that effectively pushed people back indoors, away from outdoor raves
and festivals, back into licensed premises, and how that effectively reinvented
– and reinvigorated – clubbing at a time when it was all but dying on its feet
(no pun).
The
cynical angle of course, is that the breweries and those with a vested interest
in keeping alcohol at the forefront of the party scene evidently had a major
say on legislation that banned public gatherings and killed the chem-orientated
outdoor Rave scene. Whatever the case, it did result in the revival of “the
nightclub” as primary place of worship, and from a law enforcement perspective,
an element of control had returned. Or so you would think. The point is … the
book doesn’t shy away from important social issues that otherwise might be
regarded as peripheral to the dance music scene. It seeks to explain and add
variations of colour in its search for context.
 |
| Tiesto asks what time it is .. |
At
the end of the near 600-page tome we get some charts – the ‘Wigan Casino 50’, ‘Loft
100’, ‘Warehouse 50’, ‘Hacienda 50’ etc – designed to present in quick
reference form a list of the key tracks as they related to each major club or the
scene it spawned. This is a fascinating section for anoraks like myself, and it
seems like a perfect way to document the music – the key ingredient in all of
this, remember – that propelled the DJ to such great heights in the first place.
And don’t we all love a good list?
So
it’s a great book – thoroughly researched, packed full of detail, unrelenting
in its coverage and reach. Every bit the definitive history of the DJ (and
dance music) it purports to be. Recommended.
Speaking
of lists, here’s a not-so-totally-random everythingsgonegreen DJ Hall of Fame*
(your author recognises a large element of bias and accepts the high likelihood
of the list being instantly dismissed if your own favourite has missed the cut!):
Juan
Atkins, Afrika Bambaataa, Arthur Baker, Ashley Beedle, Jellybean Benitez, Matt
Black, Prince Buster, Michael Capello, Dick Clark, Norman Cook, Carl Cox, Steve
D’Acquisito, Coxsone Dodd, Double Dee & Steinski, Terry Farley, Alfredo
Fiorito, Froggy, Grandmixer DST, Grandmaster Flash, Walter Gibbons, Francis
Grasso, Bobby Guttadaro, Kool Herc, Tony Humphries, Steve Silk Hurley, Jam
Master Jay, Norman Jay, Marshall Jefferson, Francois Kevorkian, Frankie
Knuckles, Larry Levan, Ian Levine, David Mancuso, Derrick May, David Morales, Tom
Moulton, Paul Oakenfold, John Peel, Gilles Peterson, Danny Rampling, Sasha,
Kevin Saunderson, Nicky Siano, Tiesto, Pete Tong, King Tubby, Junior Vasquez,
Armin van Buuren, Andy Weatherall.
*49
listed, there was going to be a nice round 50 but on account of recent
revelations and consequent disgrace, one Jimmy Savile (arguably the UK’s first superstar DJ) has been omitted.
As has current “star” David Guetta. Guetta’s omission is basically because he’s
shit.
It isn’t for everyone, XLR8R tends to veer
on the side of bass music and more experimental genres within the wider dance
music sphere, but that’s what gives it a significant point of difference. And
it also means exposure is given to artists you wouldn’t normally hear on the
radio or on some of the more mainstream dance music compilations. 
