No More Fucking DJs.......PLEASE.

This is a message to all pathetic Hipster, Scenester, sideways trucker/designer fake wearing, long scroungy hair-over-the-face, pink/turquoise/yellow hoodied wearing, oversize fringe-y scarfy thing donning, tight pants-a-wearin', undersize graphic T-shirt sportin', headphone around neck 24/7, spineless young people who don't know what real music is, and who are just part of a pack to feel like they belong, are under 24 and don't know who Kraftwerk is, and who couldn't give two shits about being original...... (if this is you and you're OVER 24....GROW UP, get a sensible fashion sense and a decent haircut...I'm sure everyone you hang out with thinks you're the gross lecherous old dude hanging around)

To be fair, this concerns FASHION only....I don't know who these people are when they take off the silly costumes.








After 10 long years in the City of Hollywood, California, I am officially retiring from DJing and hosting parties and going to bars/clubs.
My life now has new meaning, and the past 10 years have done NOTHING for me other than to help my social life, get me laid, and hinder my original focus, if I can even remember what that was.

I simply can-not go on anymore.
Not in this world.

I am a dying breed.
Everything that I consider worthy of my interest is now being pushed into the closet and deemed 'for old people'.
To make room for the new, the media obsessed, the trend hungry youth, the herds of insecure Television Zombies who feed off of needing to feel worthy by others; or by anyone for that matter.

It nauseates me to go to work.
Even the thought of having to go into a bar makes me feel sick to my stomach.
It starts at my photo studio, before I even get ready.
Just thinking about it.
First the subtle butterflies in the pit.
Then the tightening in the throat.
The lump at the bottom that slowly begins to crawl up.
wanting to escape.
My mouth starts to feel 'extra wet'.
Its not fun.
Just at the thought of having to be in the same proximity as the legions of ignorant celebrity-obsessed, trend mongers.
Him with his short hair, graphic printed Ed Hardy T-shirt, sensible shoes and a glimmer in his eye in hopes of getting laid at the end of the night.
And her with her $400 spandex skirt, white platform open-toe stripper shoes, 40 volume bleached split-end hair, botox injected flesh mask, and facial expression that screams "Please lust after me..".
With this thought, a few drops of bile come into my mouth from down below.

I am repulsed when I hear requests for any "music" that's widely available.
ANYTHING that is played on the Radio.
Rap, Hip Hop, Top 40, and especially that trendy indie hipster shit; MGMT, Cold War Kids, The Knife, Crystal Castles, The White Stripes, etc, etc, etc;
Simply created as an alternative to the mainstream, but is really nothing more than a hypocritical recipe itself since it was a formula for the 'Indie kids', to begin with.

Formulaic sounds, arranged in a fashion that has found success in the vast wasteland that is our consumerism.
That is the literal definition of 'music' for the masses.
Not for me.
I would never ever ever want to be part of the masses, or belong to anything that is part of a larger group.

I can't stand the concept of a "DJ".
Why would I want to subject myself to what some self-imposed 'Cool guy' deems as what's 'Cool' and 'Hip' and 'should be listened to'.
I have my own taste. I know what I like. And I respect close friends for introducing me to music that they think I may enjoy.

Why should I find enjoyment in someone else's musical taste?
Am I not self assured in what I enjoy musically?
Do I need to be subjected to what is considered 'good music' by the ignorant masses, that are led by the media, who are being dictated by the Record Labels, who are being ruled by their Corporate Revenues and who are ultimately ruled by Napoleonic individuals who have a need to 'acquire' material things?

No thanks.
Let me wallow in my own unpopular tastes.
Let me stay at home, listening to music of my choice, drinking top shelf cocktails without having to tip.
Let me be able to decide who comes over, who doesn't, and who gets kicked out when I'm done with it all and ready to retire.
At least let me be the Gov't of my own country, the real one is unreal.

-A.S.