Why do some women like DJs (and Generations and excessive makeup and gossip and alcohol, etc.) so much? What seemingly disappears their interest in sharing a bed with one who is a petrol attendant, or a guy working in a greasy kitchen of a fish and chips corner shop?
What? Is it the free entrance to the VIP section? Is it the free booze? Or do they perhaps oh so madly cherish the privilege to tweet and facebook the dizzying fun they are having, bragging to those they imagine can only dream to be in their position?
I don’t understand. I probably never will.
I don’t hate on them but come on now, some of these cats even left school without matric, hurrying to become DJs so that (ag shame) they too can become ‘high profile’, refusing to be beaten by brilliant and hardworking doctors and scientists and advocates. Indeed some of these guys are unable to do anything other than match beats for 30 seconds or so to produce a mix.
As a leader of a certain radical organisation would probably say, some of these guys “have nothing to offer, intellectually or otherwise.”
So I really struggle not to place the blame at the doorstep of women who run after them.
Have these women such uncontrollably excessive sexual desire that they would rather suspend their steady relationships just to please a visiting DJ for one night? Or is it in fact the case that some of these guys are ordinarily happy philanderers who become DJs just to get laid? I really don’t know.
Let me speak a bit more of DJs and their sickeningly egotistic place in society.
I don’t know them all but my observation is that many of the DJs I have come across, especially these up and coming ones believe quite narcissistically that just because they are DJs, they are some God.
They seem to have this rather odd misconception that simply because they play what they call deep or soulful house, they know music better than everyone else out there (and this ‘accusation’ applies in equal measure to some deep house heads).
Now if you stopped anyone of them and asked what they mean by deep house or soulful house, you will most likely leave the conversation a lot more confused than when you met them. And this is so because they assume titles and phrases – titles and phrases they themselves cannot explain, from listening to parts of what their ‘heroes’ say when on public platform.
When, for instance, a great house track plays – I talk here of a song which makes the crowd happy to have attended a gig, they would say (and this has become pretty ordinary of them) that the track is ‘commercial’ and openly wear a frown to exhibit their repugnance.
I remember the time when Professor and DJ Cleo (I am talking two albums before he decided to stop beat-making to stop goals) and DJ Clock along with others released hits that demented party lovers, some deep house heads and their lordly DJs wore a permanent frown because, well, other people’s music taste is clearly subordinate to theirs.
Their arrogance is as scornful as it is astounding, but also plain stupid.
I mean DJ Clock and Cleo-just to mention the two, have together made millions through making the very beats that these deep house heads and DJs feel are inferior.
As I said, a lot of these self appointed music constables don’t even have matric to point to. It is as if they were encouraged to leave school to become DJs because it is some easy way out to become popular and maybe make money in the process.
This apathy towards education flies against what legends and prosperous DJs often say when they get interviewed: “Go to school first. Have a degree so you have something to fall back on in case DJing does not work.”
I am, by the way, also what is called a deep house head, whatever that means. And yes, I also play at times. But I keep away from the arrogant clique because I also love The Crusaders and Anita Baker and 2Pac and Micheal Franks and Thebe. MaWillies too, yes. Hahaha…
I also accept that Rebecca Malope makes people happy with her Gospel, just like I accept that Penny Penny is a giant to many – and this acceptance is easy for me, dear Mr DJ, because music is music, you see.
(Maruping Phepheng is author of “What Happens In Hankaroo…” and “Of Anger and Revenge.” Follow him on Twitter @TheDukeP.)
