Welcome to the Tales From The DJ Booth website. This is where I will be archiving my Tales From The DJ Booth columns that have appeared in Exotic magazine. Anything written under other titles for Exotic (Aural Stimulation, Green Room Diaries, etc.) is already archived over at Xmag.com. Stay tuned as I build the site and feel free to contact me if you have any suggestions, questions or are seeking back child support. If you are too lazy to look up and to the right, you may click here for the article archives.
I wrote my Master’s thesis in a strip club DJ booth. I’d like to say it wasn’t easy, but it was. Toss around some Marxist jargon, find a way to relate it to the teenager who is sharing your DJ booth due to somewhat ironic liquor laws, and bam...you have an entire dissertation on how underage dancers are analogous to a petit bourgeois when framed through the lens of a micro-economic capitalist paradigm. Yeah, I thought it was bullshit too...(read more)
I have been a career DJ for over a decade. With an additional ten years of hobby-driven interest under my belt, it is with minimal humility and utmost confidence, that I claim paid dues as a disc jockey. While I started on two turntables (like any other recognized dance commander), I have since evolved from samplers, to CD-Js, and eventually, a laptop. Having debated the proceeding statement for roughly half my career, I can safely say the following without an ounce of regret: fuck vinyl...(read more)
Having DJ’d at strip clubs for three years, I’m finally starting to get a feel for the industry. Aside from being morally and economically corrupt, the strip-club scene is home to plenty of tragedy and despair. However, much of this isn’t seen, but rather heard. Here I explore the essential but often unknown elements of strip-club music, the purpose it serves and what you, the customer, can do to help...(read more)
Back when I worked at a smaller club in SW Portland, I would arrive at least fifteen minutes late with minimal repercussions. Normally this was not an issue, as there are typically more dancers than customers at said club. However, on this particularly unlucky evening, I arrive five minutes early. Why? I don’t know. But to make things more bizarre, I am hastily greeted by a pissed-off bartender...(read more)
Every strip-club DJ knows that picking songs and announcing names is the last thing on the list of "shit to do in order to get through the shift." When something doesn’t fall into the explicit realm of duties performed by a bartender or bouncer, it is often the responsibility of the on-duty DJ to step in...(read more)
We’ve all wasted money on stupid shit, and it is unlikely that consumers will stop doing so in the near future. Horrible technologies usually disappear on their own, leaving nothing but a trail of "Whatever happened to that MiniDisc player?" in their wake. However, this trend has recently been broken by unseen forces of evil whose sole purpose is to anger DJs and increase profits for der Führer, Steve Jobs...(read more)
Pseudonyms are like euphemisms in that they often defeat their intended purpose. With euphemisms, or "politically correct" language, an unattractive or seemingly offensive term will be replaced with something more user-friendly, only to completely confuse the issue...(read more)
Regardless of how many bouncers a club employs (or fails to employ), sooner or later, every strip-club DJ ends up witnessing a fight between dancers. More often than not, something no larger than Biz Markie’s fan base is to blame for the cause of the fight...(read more)
Since every month should be Black History Month and since I’m a fan of ripping through hearts with painful, erect objects, your regularly scheduled programming has been slightly modified this month in favor of Valentine’s Day. Enjoy...(read more)
Most dancers seem to take pride in the fact that they can sell a fantasy without actually selling themselves and this is the defining line between a stripper and a prostitute. However, the line occasionally seems to blur itself...(read more)
As Lilly finished up the last set of her shift at Casa Diablo, she sat down next to me behind the mixer while putting her outfit back on.
"You’re a pretty good DJ," she told me while attaching her top from the back. "Don’t take this as an insult, but you kind of look like that guy who does the Exotic article..."(read more)
Taking an unnecessary smoke break during a weekend shift, I had the misfortune of eavesdropping on a couple of douche bags in Heineken T-shirts and backwards baseball caps...(read more)
Halloween is the calendar’s gift to strip clubs. On any other day of the year, panhandling candy from strangers while dressed as the gimp from Pulp Fiction would result in public arrest and/or humiliation. I speak from experience...(read more)
You did the impossible. You got her real name and you convinced her that you weren’t like other guys. Now you’re going through a stack of Cosmopolitan magazines and Depeche Mode CDs while your newly-acquired stripper girlfriend sleeps quietly under a Powerpuff Girls bed sheet littered with cigarette butts and condom wrappers...(read more)
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