I haven’t seen anyone want to be European this badly since Brexit.
Yes, friends, it is high time we address the lanky boys on our campus calling themselves DJs. Tall, Connecticut boys with patterned shirts and a future in investment banking. Here’s the thing: volunteering to ‘play parties’ for free is not an occupation. You are not a DJ, you are just on aux in sunglasses.
If you weren’t invited to a party, that’s ok! That is ok. Normalise it! Girls have. When women aren’t invited to things, we take the L and pop a melatonin. Men invent a job, gear up in gorpcore, and show up at 9:30pm to ‘get acquainted with the space’.
But, Zara! They have their ‘decks’! Only a DJ would have such ‘decks’! Friend, those are fidget toys. Knowing how to twist a couple of knobs on your $1,000 decks does not make you a musician, it makes you capable of playing a mean round of ‘Bop-It’. That money would be better spent on, I don’t know, a haircut? Some shampoo?
Indeed, I do not believe in DJs. The only time we should all be dancing for a man is if we’re in the Footloose town and the police want us to stand still. Running through Disclosure’s entire discography and calling it a “set” is not a career, nor is it a hobby – it is a threat.
This is all to say that I have a new business venture: a watchlist of every male with an active Soundcloud.
Correction: A previous version of this article incorrectly attributed the DJ’s “set” to Purple Disco Machine. It was Disclosure’s entire discography he was running through. The Rib regrets the error.
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