DJ Big Styles shares a few of his favorite memories from So What! The Club

A Dust up with Daddy G from Massive Attack

Anyone who knows me knows I have bad luck with celebrities, especially celebs that I admire. I have completely given up on being excited about meeting celebrity X because I already know where it's going to go, based on experience. Let me give you an example: So What! has never had a larger crowd than when we were at 9th Ave West/La Rumba during a time period when a nearby club had to close for a liquor violation or taxes or something.

At that time, we had a core crowd of about 300-400 people who would come see us every week, and the people who kept driving down the street to find us put our numbers close to 500 or 600 some nights. (Remember this is a TUESDAY night "Acid Jazz" club, basically underground.) All the stragglers made us the certified place to be, and we had a lot of things just fall in our lap because of it.

For instance: Massive Attack after their first Colorado show just ended up coming in and kicking it with us for free at, like, the height of their popularity. I am pretty sure Ms. Deirdre made them pay cover! (She made EVERYBODY pay cover, no matter how famous or infamous. True story.)

So anyway, we set up on the stage just like they did when Lipgloss was there, and so as I get up to start my set, I notice there's a bunch of funny style dudes and really attractive chicks in the corner stage right. I have no confirmation but I'm convinced this must be Massive Attack or members of their crew, so I pour it on heavy playing all my hottest records. I was particularly proud of a white label promo I had scored of Bahamadia and the Roots covering MC Lyte's "Paper Thin." I slammed it into the mix and all of a sudden I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned right and it was Daddy G from Massive Attack. If you don't know, he's the big, black, Herman Munster-on-crack-lookin' dude who's always frowning in the promo pics. No one knows what he does in the band. Seriously.

So here comes his request in his heavy weed scented, english accent "Ayo mate! Vats a hot choon, mate! It's Bahamadeeer on that, innit? Mate, there's live drums, too, innit?" "Yeah bruh," I answered, excited because I just impressed one of the dues from Massive Attack. 'It's Bahamadia and the Roots; it's a promo that just dropped!" "Wot? The Roots, yeah? Wicked mate! Tell yuh wot, mate, you give me that record, and I'll email you a bunch of exclusive Massive stuff we did with Mad Professor wot's never comin' out, right? You fancy Mad Professor?"

"Nah, bruh, I don't like Mad Professor. I think that album he did for you guys is whack. What else you offering?" "'Ave yuh gone mad, mate? Them Mad Professor sides are large, mate. Trust me. Bruv, you want these. Now give me that choon!" I actually started to be convinced, thinking about the 1.5 friends I had that would care that I had "exclusive" Massive Attack vs. Mad Professor tracks.

Then I considered his touring schedule and the fact that I literally had to fight to get this promo. "Yo, aren't you guys on your way to like San Francisco in the morning and Asia after that? I'm quite sure you can get your hands on your own copy somewhere. If I give this to you, all I will be left with is the promise that you might send me some shit that I don't want."

"Oh, you don't trust me, mate? I'm givin' you the chance of a lifetime to score some exclusives," he said, getting madder at this point, "and haven't got balls enough to trust me?! You aren't got any balls at all! You got no balls, mate. Just gimme the choon! Stop being a pussy clot!"

So it's not enough to call my manhood into question, he had to pull out a little patois slang terms to make his point? Lucky for Daddy G, he had caught me on the right day for some bullshit. I took off my headphones and turned to cuss him out, and when I did, he started jabbing his finger in my chest and getting all aggressive! "That's the problem, innit? You 'aven't got any balls!" So I'm like, "Bitch, if you don't back the fuck up!"

Just then, Daddy G jabbed me in the chest with his finger again, and I grabbed his finger and pushed him off the stage onto, like, half his entourage. He jumps back on stage, and now we are tussling, as he's trying to grab my record off the turntables. I'm trying to choke this dude out.

Keep in mind that the whole time this is happening, DJ K-nee is less than three feet away from me on the other side of the stage, oblivious, talking to some chick. The record that's on is ending, and all the lil' Massive Attack dudes are holding us apart. Daddy G continued to taunt me as they took him out the side door of 9th Ave and I guess onto their tour bus. I was pretty pissed but satisfied that he walked away empty handed that night.

Keep reading for another story about Slash and Velvet Revolver

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3 comments
yarr
yarr

Why is it that while the producers do 95% of the work, it's the DJs who always get the spotlight? It would be nice to see a feature about local producers and composers who don't ncessarily play out, for once. Not everyone in EDM just presses "play" in front of a crowd.


Interview with producer: "Here's how I crate music... This is what motivates me... These are my influences..."


Interview with DJ: "I.. ugh... umm... I play music from the radio!"

deejaystyles
deejaystyles

@yarr YOU are the reason why DJs get interviewed. Insufferable elitists who aren't informed enough to know that the best producers of "EDM" were and ARE DJs. Diplo, Sampha, SBTRKT, Flying Lotus, DAFT PUNK. 

Real DJs are constantly in the business of creating music, your SPIN magazine cover boy wankers like Deadmau5 are busy standing on the shoulders of giants who came before them and established this game, and because THEY give terrible performances they wanna say all I do is press play? 

Do yourself a favor, get up on a little history and you will find out that it's called HOUSE music. It's been here long before you deigned to gaze down your nose at a culture you don't understand, and btw we don't think you're ironic when you don't dance at the party we think you're sad. 


Holla back at me when you get some respect for the culture you so poorly represent. 

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