this past weekend i had a string of four gigs over four days. okay, that sentence seems really confusing and poorly constructed. what i mean is i had a gig thursday, and then every single day that followed, for a total of four days. it’s not like that sort of thing is unheard of for working musicians, but i haven’t booked back-to-back gigs like that in… ever, i don’t think.

so i’ve been trying to keep myself busy recently. and part of that whole game plan is accepting any and all dj gigs that seem interesting, or potentially rewarding on some level. which led to me realizing early last week that i had inadvertantly booked a solid block of gigs over four days. and now that it’s done, and i finally had a decent night’s sleep, and some time to breathe and review… i don’t think i’m ever doing that again.

really, more than anything, i was just exhausted when i woke up on monday morning. and i’m pretty sure i missed at least two meals somewhere in there.

the funny thing is, it didn’t really burn me out. because it was a fairly accurate spectrum of how my gigs sometimes go. there was an average night that turned into a dynamic night with spontaneous dancefloor action. there was a chaotic night with all manner of drunken excitement, none of which was mine but still left me drained and emotionally hungover. there was an absurdly dead night where i tried to make the best of rocking an empty room. and then there was a relaxed night that snowballed into a moderately full bar with manageably drunk patrons.

i suppose if i cut little bits from each night and glued them back together in a different configuration, i’d have some crazy montage of an ideal gig experience. but that’s not how it works. in some ways, dj’ing in bars and clubs is a losing battle. you’re fighting to create something positive or musically satisfying or personally meaningful; all in the face of booze-fueled shenanigans or entitled indifference or technical difficulties. so after a while, you start cherishing the small victories. because often, that’s all you’re probably gonna get. a half-intelligible cheer of approval waved over from a pair of strangers at the bar. the validation of club staff who would have every right to be jaded and unaffected by your music, but instead take the time to stop and let you know that you are indeed rocking it right now, even if nobody else notices or cares.

it’s the small victories that keep me going. it’s the small victories that urged me to deconstruct the maze of equipment and record crates in my living room, and set up my turntables and play music earlier tonight. just for me. just so i could inhale all that was frustrating and exciting about this past tornado weekend, and exhale a quiet storm of beats and rhythm that in some way echoes the thunder rolling around in my head.

it’s the small victories that i hold on to, hoping that they matter.

they’re the reason i have three gigs this weekend.

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i was invited to spin at the Volstead 3-year Anniversary tomorrow, which should be an interesting time. mostly because i’ll only be playing an hour, so the rest of the time i’ll just be hanging out. and i can’t remember the last time i truly just hung out at a club for a while, without serving some kind of function.

so tonight is music prep for me. i spend the night before a gig going through my crates, and adding and subtracting records depending on what i feel i need to bring. i have an early slot (9-9:45pm), so i want to bring enough records for an action-packed dancefloor with the option for some possible musical tangents should the mood strike, but certainly not the full musical arsenal i’d usually bring to a random Volstead thursday. you’d think that less music to bring would mean less work, but it’s actually more difficult for me to cut down my record crate to “essentials.” because what if nobody is feeling hiphop? i need to be able to switch direction. what if people are digging the soul music, and want more than i bring? or disco. or breaks. then i find myself thinking, “well, maybe i should just bring everything i normally would for a full night.” and then i’ll be standing there tonight with piles of records on my bed wondering why i didn’t pick simpler interests in life. stamp collectors don’t have these problems.

and also, i’ve only got an hour to play, and potentially for a lot of people who’d never hear me spin. i’d at least like to make an impression. and at best i’d like to leave the dancefloor hot, sweaty, and wondering who that last dj was.