THE CAPSTONE
1.
The routine is always the same: don’t eat the day of a set because I will be too nervous to keep the food down. Wear my collection of eight rings so my hands look cool as they spin the nobs. Drink exactly two seltzers within the hour and a half before starting my set so I don’t care about any mistakes I will make. But I am still always so nervous.
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The term “imposter syndrome” is much oversaturated, in my opinion. Putting a name to the feeling validates it, saying that is a widespread phenomenon, but it also diminishes the experience of it. Naming it doesn’t really do anything for how to get over it, it just says you’re not special and other people feel it and to get over it because whatever anxiety you’re feeling is not true. You shouldn’t trust your own thoughts. When you explain how nervous you are to play a set because you feel like you still don’t know what you’re doing even after you’ve been DJing for four years, your friends trying to comfort you will write it off and say, “oh, that’s just the imposter syndrome talking.”
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But maybe it’s true, maybe I am the imposter. I started DJing in 2020 when my oldest sister first brought home her DDJ 400 from her college house. We had nothing else to do in quarantine, so I thought I’d press a few of the buttons and see how my sister reacted. If I seemed to impress her enough, I would keep going. Years earlier, I had learned how to play the guitar. By that point in quarantine, however, I had completely lost all of my musical abilities. If I could prove that I had enough understanding about how songs fit together from the start, without this technical knowledge of music anymore, then I would continue to ask to play around on the new toy.
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In our musty basement that grew to feel much smaller during those quarantine months, I would pick songs that I liked listening to, and my sister would show me how they could blend together. To start, I just kept asking her for “a tour of the board.” “Can you just tell me what all the buttons do?” I would beg her. She explained that the buttons don’t make sense unless I can hear how the song is being manipulated. I just needed to press all the buttons I was curious about and see what happened. But my brain doesn’t work that way, with the confidence that my sister has. In order to start this, I had to understand everything about it first.
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Four years later, I can’t really tell what genre I am playing when people ask me questions about my set. I don’t know what the key button really means except for knowing I should turn it off if I don’t want my song to sound like an Alvin and the Chipmunks rendition when I bump up the BPM (beats per minute). I feel ashamed when I play a song that is unknowingly a remix of an 80s pop song that I really should know.
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But knowing it comes from learning it and learning it comes from being exposed to it and being exposed to it comes from my environment growing up – which was not up to me at that time.
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2.
Before I started babysitting Benji, his parents had us FaceTime to make sure we were a good match. The call lasted about ten minutes, and I got the job offer at the end. Him and his sister, who would be at daycare while I was babysitting Benji after school, ate their red bell peppers with their mouths wide open and told me about their favorite games to play. Benji told me he wanted to be a singer when he grows up. “Like Taylor Swift,” he said. Eventually, Benji ran off to show me his room. His parents told me I would be taking him to music class, dance rehearsal, and soccer practice for three days of the week.
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3.
Electronic music is best understood as an umbrella – it is defined as any music that uses electronic instruments or processing in its production (Hiller). From this umbrella, there are hundreds of subgenres. It is easiest to separate them into the next largest subgenre of electronic dance music (EDM) and other genres that you typically don’t dance to, like ambient or intelligent dance music (IDM). The two most popular forms of electronic dance music (EDM) are house and techno – these are the genres that DJs are often playing. Electronic music can continue to get more niche in its definition the more technical someone wants to get, this is based on the elements of the song, when it was created, and the location where it started – this includes deep house, acid house, Berlin techno, minimal techno, Latin house, etc. To separate house and techno music, any person’s ear can be trained to hear the difference. Both are on a 4/4 beat measure, or, something is played on every quarter note (“What's the Difference Between Techno & House?”). House music has basslines and the high hats that alternate on the quarter notes to create a “boots and cats” noise (“What's the Difference Between Techno & House?”). Techno music has a downbeat bassline on every quarter note to create a deeper sound than the high hats that lighten up house music, giving it an “unce unce unce” sound (“What's the Difference Between Techno & House?”).
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These two larger genres of electronic music have similarities to their predecessor genres through either sampling older songs, or by using similar elements and rhythms. Techno music started in Detroit out of inspirations from Motown (“Beatport's Definitive History of Techno”). House music started in Chicago from Disco (“The Fascinating History of Techno Music”).
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Motown came from Jazz and Gospel (“Beatport's Definitive History of Techno”).
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Disco came from Funk, Soul, Rock, and Swing (“The Fascinating History of Techno Music”).
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The timelines keep going backwards as music has always existed. Human brains are wired to recognize patterns, and music goes back in time around 40,000 years – though like any history, this can be debated (“Art & Music | The Smithsonian Institution's Human Origins Program”). All cultures have their own music, and each decade forms many new types of music, keeping a cyclical nature of inspiration. But there is no music without the sounds before it, constantly inspiring future creatives. Ultimately, music is all about spheres of influence. The popularity of a genre likely owes its success to the genre that inspired it and the musicians before them.
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4.
My parents ultimately decided what kind of DJ I would be today. Not in the way that decides what I eat, wear, or drink while I DJ; but they decided how much music would be part of my future. I had no choice but to make it a pillar of my life even after I became an independent adult. They would decide whether I knew enough of the older sounds of electronic music that would make me excited to learn about the roots of it and pay certain respects to older artists, or if I would be unaware music’s rich history: only listening to popular songs, or artists that everyone knows, or songs that could be considered bad, but I liked them.
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My stepmom would always burn CDs for us. My parents got a divorce when I was only a year and a half old, and my youngest memories all include my stepmom in them too. I had a tiny iPod shuffle that she would load songs onto, and we often shared all of those songs as a family. I remember my grandparents' house vividly. My dad lived there for quite a few years, and we would stay there every other weekend. Per the court order. There was a glass railing that ran along the upper level, creating a minimal barrier between all the spaces in the home. The top of the railing was a flat edge that felt frosty and showed how thick the glass was. I liked to run my finger along it as I would listen to my shuffle – it was bright green and matched the sleek design of the modern house. I could hold it easily in my hands, even as the smallest child in my kindergarten class, and run around the open upper level while the adults prepared meals or looked at paperwork on the level below. I made fingerprints all over the glass and sang “Bleeding Love” by Leona Lewis when I wanted to go home to my mom. When they asked me to, I would perform a song and dance for my parents in the living room. The giant red carpet would leave its little hairs all over my clothes after I rolled around on it - more spasming than dancing at that age. But I was encouraged to move freely, expressively.
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5.
Drum and Bass (DnB) started in the UK in the 1990s (Clerkin). DnB often samples other songs and is known for its rhythm (Clerkin). The sound is characterized by its fast breakbeats and heavy bass lines (Clerkin).
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Breakbeats are drum samples that are displaced – rather than having a melodic drum that is consistent throughout a song, breakbeats occur in a syncopated manner (“All About Drum and Bass Music: Brief History of Drum and Bass”).
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Bass lines are what that sounds like – the bass of a song. Though they are typically played on a bass, they are considered whatever the lowest pitch played in a song is (“How to Write a Killer Bass Line in A Few Simple Steps”). Typically, bass lines are responsible for the rhythm that moves an audience to a song, they are the element of music that you can feel the most through the subwoofers and other speakers (“Bass Line | Bass Line In Music”).
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DnB largely grew out of Jungle, a genre that started in the UK that blended Reggae music with Hip Hop breakbeats from America (“What is the history of Jungle and DnB?”). From these predecessors, Ragga, Dub, UK Garage, and Breakbeat all grew (“What is the history of Jungle and DnB?”). With their similarities in inspiration, they blend a lot of the same samples together, and the genres themselves can start to blend.
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When people ask what kind of music I am playing for a set, I often say DnB. I have maybe played one or two DnB songs in all of my sets. No one has corrected me on it, and who would even be the right one to do so?
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6.
When I first came out to my parents as queer, I didn’t even put a label on it. I talked to them about how I had a crush on this guy, but I didn’t think I did anymore because I had a crush on a girl. My stepmom punched my dad in the arm and said, “See! I told you she’s exploring her sexuality.” Months later I would find out they told one of my older sisters that I was only bisexual because my other older sister was. Low blow, but she was also the one that had taught me how to DJ, and I went to the same university as her, and I also looked like her, sometimes I even dressed like her, so, touché.
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I’m honestly pleased with their reaction to me coming out. We were sitting in the Whole Foods parking lot (fitting) and eventually went inside after my dad said “Jesus” and shut the car door. I expressed that this abrupt way to end the conversation didn’t make me feel good, and he kindly explained that he didn’t care who I liked as long as it wasn’t always drama in my life. “Kukla,” (doll in Greek) he said, and kissed my forehead.
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Ironically, I remember thinking I should give my parents credit for recognizing my outward queerness and androgynous look long before I realized they had. I remember exactly what I was wearing during that conversation. I was bundled in my favorite huge, black sweatshirt – a piece of merch from the 070 Shake concert – and loose, white linen pants. My short hair was tied half up and the rest was down, letting my silver hoops partly peak through.
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070 Shake is my favorite artist, beyond just her music. I struggle to say what kind of music she makes. Once, she Tweeted a picture of her burning newspapers saying, “the newspapers are genres”. Watching her on stage and listening to her lyrics about being androgynous and confusing people made me feel some sort of deeper connection to her. When I first listened to her music, I would say things like, “I’m not gay but I would have sex with 070 Shake.” I was, in fact, gay. Or bisexual, or pansexual, or queer, or whatever other words I could say – having one word ready in my back pocket has never made me feel like it would be easier to explain to my parents or anyone else or myself.
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7.
The first day that I drove Benji to music class I mainly thought about my gas tank. I have never really pictured having kids, my life plan never felt like it was on a timeline for that or should ever be planned around that. Driving Benji to music class took thirty minutes. His parents compensated me for the gas money, but I couldn’t imagine being them and putting that, plus the dance classes on Wednesdays and the soccer lessons on Fridays, into another human being. If I was to parent, I would want to be like Benji’s, and if I were to be a kid again, I would want to be Benji. He has everything going for him, his parents care so much about the success of his future – always based around his interests.
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So, he went to the best music school, just outside of town. The first day I was driving him, while I was thinking about how much gas the drive was using, Benji was working on his homework for the class starting soon. I thought that would be the norm. To my surprise, every week after, he had his homework done. He often did it the night it was assigned on the way home from class rather than the day it was due on the way to class. Every Monday, Benji excitedly sprints into his class and perfectly tells his teacher that a staccato means to play short and fast and that an octave is a different pitch and scale but can have the same notes. He is eager to pull the different instruments off the wall and start playing them. I learned this by sitting in the class with him. When he plays the saxophone, he has to sit on the table with the instrument resting on a chair in order to be tall enough to reach the mouthpiece and not get too tired carrying it.
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8.
My best friend and I sang a Taylor Swift duet for our fifth-grade talent show. We worked tirelessly on it, even though she wanted to do a different song than the one I did (and ultimately performed because I was pushy even at that age). After the performance, one of our friends walked up to us, looked at my best friend, and said, “I had no idea you were such a good singer!” And it was true, it still is true 13 years later – she is such a great singer. But ever since that day, I have screamed at my mom for playing the video of our performance; I find some of the deepest embarrassment in my life in that video. I was only 11 years old; I should find it adorable. After that, I kept playing the guitar, but I wouldn’t sing with it. I kept going to theater camps and would do plays, but never musicals. I was only a kid, but I had the harshest standards on my musical knowledge and abilities.
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9.
When creating the lineup for a DJ show, it is important to consider the genres that each DJ is playing. Often, lineups are created using DJs that will all be playing the same genre, and the party theme might even be created around it. Some venues only host DJs that play certain genres, and they might be strict with those standards so they can draw certain crowds. It is also common to order a DJ lineup by the BPM that the DJ starts and ends with. As each DJ will transition their set using the prior DJ’s last song into their set, it makes most sense to start with the lowest BPM and build up to the highest. This leaves each DJ building their set to the fastest, most interesting songs left at the end, and the most energetic set being the last of the night.
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Witch house is a subgenre of house (“Why Witch House is the Best Genre You've Never Heard Of”). With house having the fundamental basics of a 4/4 downbeat structure, there are lots of variations the other instruments, samples, and vocals can take that give it a wide range of sounds, earning each song a different subgenre label. Online searches on “the subgenres of house” show results that claim there are ten to thirty, though people argue there are an infinite number (“30 Subgenres of House Music (with examples)”). Witch house is defined as house music that uses everyday sounds found in construction, industry, and nature to create supernatural sounds (“Why Witch House is the Best Genre You've Never Heard Of”). The resulting sound is known for being a bit dark and ethereal, giving it the name of witch house.
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During my first DJ set, I was asked to tell the event planners what genre I was planning on playing. Another DJ apparently told the event planners she was playing witch house. They were trying to figure out whether they should place me before or after the other DJ on the lineup. The event planners laughed to each other, “well, it depends if her music is really witch house.” I’ve set out to make my music exploration and learning much less pretentious.
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10.
Benji is the one that taught me what Middle C is. The middle key on the piano, of course. Everything is simple to him when he learns it – it is a fact, and it is memorized that way and everyone else should understand it too. He shows me the note on his keyboard he just got for Christmas.
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11.
The best song that I’ve ever known and my favorite song I’ve ever listened to changes every week. Yet, my boyfriend always knows what it is. He pays attention to everything in my life like that. He is the best partner I’ve ever had.
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Music is a large part of our relationship. In the second week of us dating, we stayed up until six in the morning after coming home from one of my DJ sets. We laid in his blue sheets, and I told him about 070 Shake and James Blake and played him all of my favorite songs by both of them. They represent pushing the boundaries of music - they combine sounds that I have never heard before. Both of them are haunting, in a way. Their sound coming through his speakers sounded right in that moment, as the dark sky turned lighter and lighter, and he just kept tracing my arm to my shoulder to my back and around again as I made him be quiet while we listened.
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My topmost listened to song of 2023 has been my favorite song since my sister showed it to me at a music festival in October. This song’s phase in my life has lasted much longer than a week. I made him listen to it a concerning number of times after I came home from the festival. I think he likes the song as well. His parents raised him on record-listening around the house and going to concerts and now he minors in music: he appreciates good music more than anyone else I have ever met.
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Yet, he doesn’t quite understand why it’s my favorite song. When she sings about having a love that she is so proud of, yet still needs to hide – the song is called “Loveher” (not Lovehim) – there is an extra layer of pain and longing that certain listeners understand, like me, and certain listeners don’t, like my boyfriend. I try to settle the unease in my stomach when I think about this – the way he might never hear my favorite song the way I do. But when I swallow, it feels like a dry cotton ball is lodged in my throat.
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“Hold my hand under the table, it’s not that I’m not proud in the company of strangers, it’s just, some things are for us. Lover, you know when they ask me, I’ll tell them. Won’t be ashamed, no, I can’t wait to tell them. Loveher, I love her, I love her, I.”
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He always holds my hand in public.
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He was there with me when I discovered Radiohead - it was just a couple of months ago. He didn’t make fun of me for it, the way I was excited as if I was the sole person discovering a new underground bang. I dated someone before that would have taken that moment to assert his musical knowledge and, therefore, overall superiority over me. I now know what it means to just let people appreciate music on their own journey, rather than ask how they possibly didn’t know that artist. He is kind to me, and helps me find music that I like, and doesn’t place anything on a timeline for when an artist started to be popular or mainstream or basic. I am fully encouraged to be myself and just enjoy what I enjoy in life.
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Once he even asked me how he can make me feel more queer in our relationship. He knew that my last relationship was with a woman, and despite any of his own feelings of being in a relationship with me as a queer person and the insecurities that could cause him, he asked how I could feel queer. I told him that just by asking that question he was doing enough. It’s a weird feeling: trying to still guarantee that I am part of a community or fit into a label I worked hard to come out and belong to as I almost revert to who I used to be. When I know he will never understand the music, my only option is to pour myself deeper into it. I feel really strongly for songs about queerness sometimes, like those three and a half minutes are the only part of my life where I really get to live that side of myself. I’m not sure if I should feel guilty about it, like my headphones share a secret with me that the closest person in my life doesn’t know. Like my headphones and I have a love affair.
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12.
Ambient music was created by Brian Eno (Dale and Nandhra). It is known for being moody, and to the frustration of those trying to categorize music by its exact technical elements, it is pliable (Dale and Nandhra). Eno accidentally discovered the genre when he was listening to harp music on his record player with the volume too low and one channel entirely off (Dale and Nandhra). Ambient has a spiritual feel to it, only using simple sounds and tones to create a relaxing and minimal sound (“Ambient Music Guide: 5 Characteristics of Ambient Music”). The genre is characterized by having a slow tempo and being beatless; the soul focus is on setting a mood (“Ambient Music Guide: 5 Characteristics of Ambient Music”).
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Ambient is not typically thought of when talking about electronic music, however, by definition, the genre is just as electronic as the techno and house played on bouncing dance floors. Ambient is most likely the sound that you hear at the end of a yoga session, where you really breathe into the spiritual practice that just took place. However, it has been heard at music festivals in the “chill-out rooms,” or places to relax and have a more spiritual journey (“Ambient Music Guide: 5 Characteristics of Ambient Music”).
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Understanding ambient as a genre represents a greater understanding of musical expression. Without being able to definitively say what the mood is without saying anything about the rhythm or beat encourages an ultimate letting-go of genre-defining – though that in itself makes a genre.
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13.
Sometimes I hate being labeled as a raver. There are connotations to that word, just reading it now can evoke them. The label of “raver” also feels like a label of “a partier that does drugs and achieves little to nothing besides chasing the next festival.” I have seen the culture that exists around raves. There are people that make these connotations true. But in reality, that is not what the environment is really about. Electronic music was started as a place for people of color and queer people to gather and dance in a safe environment (Stanmore). The events were only known by word of mouth so that they could create a community for themselves - it was illegal for them to gather that late at night (Stanmore). So, drugs have naturally found their way into the scene. But that is not the focus.
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The war on drugs is an enforcement effort by the United States government to combat illegal drug use, but it is also a place in my mind (“War on Drugs - Timeline in America, Definition & Facts”). Electronic music uses such repetitive, rhythmic elements that one can get completely lost in a trance dancing to the music. There is no necessity to use drugs to enjoy electronic music. The environment is intoxicating enough. Yet, it is also a space designated for people to safely express themselves. And when a queer person or person of color is finally able to be liberated in a way the sober mind couldn’t comprehend, who is to say that is a bad thing?
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14.
While I was at his house babysitting, Benji’s dad asked him if Benji wanted to get professional singing lessons for one day a week. He read the bio of the guy. He sounded a bit intense for teaching children, especially in contrast to Benji’s response of asking if he could learn Taylor Swift songs with him. His dad told him that he would likely be learning more formal techniques than just singing pop songs. I encouraged Benji to take the opportunity. Coincidentally (not coincidentally) if Benji took a third day out of the five-day week to go to singing lessons, I just had to drive him there and back and do work on my computer while another adult entertained him, and we both got paid for it. Benji ultimately decided not to take the lesson because he didn’t want to miss out on another day during the week to play with me.
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15.
My soulmate is a man I met in London; I think. I am not of the belief that soulmates are just romantic, they can be friends too. His name is Alan. Him and his friend Connor that were staying in the same hostel as me are from Dublin. We met in the bar of our hostel (damn Irish) and became friends after I spilled my entire drink on Connor (damn Americans). Eventually, we started a conversation about music. As they drank, their English became thick with their accents, and we needed a different universal language to share. Alan showed me his top artists of his previous year, and they were the exact same as mine. What was special, however, was the range of genres these artists represented. We shared our love for 070 Shake as well as the electronic artists that he saw often at music festivals in the UK, and that I played in my DJ sets.
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He is one of the 78 people I follow on Spotify. I listen to what I see him listening to through the “friend activity” tab as well. Playing “Stella was a diver and she was always down” by Interpol per his listening activity brought me back to memories I didn’t realize I still stored. The early 2000s sound reminded me of the long drives to my dad’s house on the weekends that seemed to define my childhood. I had flashbacks to the ice-skating rink I went to as a kid that played a lot of Coldplay and Snow Patrol for the teens that were on dates there. I wanted to be them so badly. They were so grown up and cool. Their outfits were so bad: the low-rise jeans, the bra straps and tank top straps showing at the same time from their zip up hoodies. I could see it all so clearly listening to “Stella was a diver and she was always down” and then the playlist’s following songs by Radiohead, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and Pixies.
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After that initial listening, I went down a rabbit hole of listening to 2000s rock mixes and 2010s indie mixes and eventually all of the electronic music I listened to started to sound like metal pots and pans banging together, just like how my parents describe it whenever I play it for them. I had an important set to play only a week after my entire library was populated with these genres instead. How could I call myself a DJ if I didn’t only listen to electronic music and prefer listening to music that reminds me of my childhood instead of new age sounds? Yet am I really a DJ if I don’t know every song ever and how it has been influenced by those that came before it?
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16.
Music is not only defined by the genre, but by the location where it was created. In Detroit, when rock and pop artists grew curious of how to continue formulating a cutting-edge sound in the 1960s, they started incorporating more synthesized sounds into their music in addition to their instruments (Stanmore). By the start of electronic genres truly being created, such as house and techno, rock and pop’s use of electronic sounds had greatly expanded, causing a blend of genres at the start of purely electronic music’s creation (Manning 168-178). Belleville, home to Kevin Saunderson, Juan Atkins, and Derrick May who are known as the “Belleville Three” became a cultural center (Stanmore). These three started techno. But before they had a title that put Belleville in the spotlight, Motown artists and Gospel artists hailed from Belleville – an industrialized outskirt of Detroit otherwise known for car manufacturing (“Black Music: How Michigan Launched Musical Revolutions | Michigan”).
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Detroit’s rich music history around techno music only exists because of Motown before it. Music has always served as a voice and tool of expression for Black people (“Black Music: How Michigan Launched Musical Revolutions | Michigan”). In Detroit, Motown artists such as Stevie Wonder, Marvin Gaye, and the Jackson 5 would sing about Black stories and liberation (“Artists | Motown Museum | Home of Hitsville U.S.A.”). With Black music and expression at the city’s core, The Belleville Three and the creation of techno music represents the continuation of Black independence and storytelling in music (“History of Detroit Techno — Timeline of African American Music”). Giving credit to the place and the people that started genres inherently gives credit to the people that paved the way before them. With techno music, it is important to recognize that this has everything to do with crediting Black identities.
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17.
Benji taught me what melody was on a drive home from his music class. We were humming a song together. He couldn’t remember the lyrics, so he hummed a little tune, and I said the beat sounded familiar. He filled in a complete slurring of the lyrics with the cadence of them and said that was the melody. I asked him what the difference between a beat and a melody was. He explained the difference in the sound of the background music versus the “tune! You know, the tune?” “Right, yes, of course.” I answered as we eventually pulled into his neighborhood. He understood it so well, he could never explain it to me. It made too much sense to him. His little brain is so penetrable, and that information seeped its way in. He would know that information forever, I know he’ll always hum songs on his car rides home way past the age of him wanting to be a musician. I looked up “beat” and “melody” on my phone after I dropped him off.
18.
There were a lot of furries at my most recent DJ event. I thought it was really cool. The event was collaborative with other artists and labeled as an event to express yourself. I was proud that the atmosphere I had created allowed people to show up as completely themselves with no fear of judgment. I’ve been getting a lot of weird criticisms and roasts about it since the event. No one commented on the Average White Guy in the corner. It doesn’t take much for him to express himself. I wonder if he is as proud of himself as the furries are of themselves.
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19.
On one snowy day in February, I went to Benji’s house for the entire day as school had been called off. He had just downloaded a new piano-teaching app on his “videos” (the word he uses for his iPad). He had spent the entire previous day on the app as he needed entertainment when I couldn’t babysit him for that snow day. Within an hour, he had learned five new chords and a simplified version of “Let it Go” from the Frozen soundtrack on his keyboard. I didn’t have to lie to him when I told him he was doing a good job. Sometimes watching him, I swear I can see ten years ahead in his life - he is sitting at that piano, his feet finally able to touch the ground, and the iPad is replaced with complex sheet music. I feel a little sick when that happens. We would be years and worlds apart by that time.
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Yet, there is an image of him I have created, and sometimes when we blow out the dandelions on our walk home from school together, I wish on a time machine to see if I am correct in who he will be. He takes ballet and music classes now, so I know he isn’t afraid to express himself. I picture him being grown into himself, proud of himself, but maybe even a little bit too serious about his interests. To him, Middle C will always be Middle C, and there will never be any reason to question what he knows when he just knew it growing up.
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20.
In a conversation with Stephen Rush, a professor at the University of Michigan, I talked to him about what I could learn about music in my final semester at the university. I needed to soak up everything I could, I just needed a couple of book recommendations to learn everything possible, and I would be all set. Our conversation ended up going differently. After describing how desperately I needed to learn about music as a failing DJ today as my family and other influences failed me growing up, he told me I knew everything about music I needed through knowing how it made me feel. Whether I grew up with a formal music education, or whether I grew up dancing to songs in my kitchen with my family, I had music in my life. The prior is not necessarily better than the latter. “Call them limitations, call them experiences,” he said casually, as if that was not one of the most important mantras I would have ever learned for my life.
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21.
Sampling is one of the most common elements of electronic music, it is how the genre is able to create something new out of instruments and lyrics that have already existed. Additionally, it allows for songs to be manipulated and blended together well. Sampling is just the process of taking a snippet of one song and utilizing it in another (Brook). Many other genres use this tactic as well, and it first grew popular with hip-hop music (Brook). The producer is able to additionally slice up and rearrange the song, it is not necessarily just copy and pasting a section of one song into another, but the use of sampling has still garnered criticism along the lines of plagiarism (Brook).
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In the world of electronic music, entire genres have been created through sampling. Breakbeat, for example, often uses the same common drum sample that allows the genre to be recognized. Sampling is one of the highest forms of flattery, and the practice represents the exact recognition of inspirations from previous artists, genres, and songs in electronic music today. Electronic music will continue to honor the other music that has existed before it and around it through its foundational principles of drawing on other musical inspirations.
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22.
On my 21st birthday I had a party with a completely Aries DJ lineup: two of my DJ friends, my roommate who is also a DJ friend, and myself. The party was one of the best nights of my life. Everyone crammed into my basement - much too small with too much exposed piping for anyone to be safe - and danced until the windows were dripping with sweat-induced condensation. Per the Aries theme, everyone dressed in red, and all of the lighting was warm toned. I had just discovered a new song that would grow to be one of my most listened to songs of the year, and I consider it one of the best produced electronic songs I have ever heard. I started the set with that song, and I ended the night playing that song alone in my basement for a guest I had been waiting for the whole night to only end up joining me for the after party.
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The song starts with the noise of a drop of water landing into a pool of water. On initial listen, I would have thought the noise would have driven me insane. The constant drip-drop reminded me of the broken sink of my childhood home that forced me to go upstairs to do my homework. It’s a maddening noise. But in this song, it is just right. It plays as a background sound throughout the entire song, showing how an everyday noise can serve as music, too.
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As I listen to the drip-drop noise of “Drops in the Ocean” I like to picture the rings that each drop is making. They are continuous circles, spreading and thinning themselves out. But with the continuous drop coming, as a broken faucet will reliably deliver, the circles still form, pushing each other infinitely.
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The song played for the entire room during that set, and I got to look out and see that I had encouraged an entire room to hear a song the way that I hear it. I had done it. I had convinced an entire room I knew about music and was a DJ by, well, being one.
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When I DJ, I like to picture that I am controlling a room: I am a puppeteer and the people are my puppets, dancing for me. They move because of me, because of a sound that I feed them. If they all hear the same sound, they will move as one body, like a wave in a sea. Everyone and everything is influenced by music, including music itself. One sound of one song can create that wave, and as long as more music is playing, the waves will ultimately continue.
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