Oh no it's not pink, quick get a man
Friday night several months ago. A scruffy little bar in Soho. My friend Alice and I are behind the decks. For some reason we have just decided to play the Theme from S-Express. A man edges up to the DJ booth and sneers. "Do you know what year this was released?" he asks. Hmmm, we say, 1987? "If you don't know what year it was released, you shouldn't be playing it," he replies, before proceeding to berate us for playing a "girlie" set.
Now, I'm not quite sure what he meant by a girlie set. The gentleman DJing just before us had finished with Kelly Clarkson. We had by that point in the evening played a rather burly set consisting of Chuck Berry, the White Stripes, Little Richard, the Pixies and Bruce Springsteen. After some contemplation we decided he meant little more than we were girls, playing records.
This particular episode sprang to mind when I heard this week about a new female-only DJing course. While part of me suspects I ought to condemn it as a patronising enterprise, explaining to the pretty little ladies about cross-faders and wires, I'm afraid I have to applaud it as a damn fine idea.
Women will be much more comfortable learning away from the mocking presence of the gents. Men mystify the art of DJing almost as much as they do guitar playing, setting the video and using a drill. I'm not wholly certain why this is. Maybe they think we'll get up there and go crazy with the Bananarama records.
Whatever, most men I know make DJing out to be something Highly Complicated. And sure, yes, of course, some DJs display great technical prowess. But I've DJed for years. And you know what? It's just playing records. Yep, sometimes even Bananarama.
