So how did I get to the starting point?
I started playing records in March of 2002. At the time, CD players were just barely starting to gain acceptance as a DJing tool, and they were still incredibly imprecise. And while sightings of Final Scratch were rumored, the fact that laptops still cost a fortune and were unstable, made digital DJing a chore compared to the simplicity of mixing vinyl.
In fact, the stark reality was that where I was learning to DJ, there was nothing people wanted more than to play actual records. People kept crates of wax in the trunks of their cars on the off chance a spot opened up at a club or an afterhours party sprung up at someone's house that needed a DJ. Trips out of town always had to include a stop at a record store (or several stores). I spent an entire afternoon of the two days I've been in Rome in a record store going through European techno vinyl. Who needed to see Rome when there were stacks of white labels to listen to?
I've never lost my love for vinyl. But to say the DJing tools available now are different than what was around in 2002, is like saying the iPad is slightly different than the old Apple IIe that my family purchased for our first computer.
The DJing world is now driven by digital tools. I've embraced some of these digital tools in as much as they provide me with a greater range of expression in my DJ sets. Yet at the core, I'm still a DJ that likes to put two slabs of wax together and let them blend.
Compared to some DJs these days, I know my preferred tool (vinyl) seems quaint. And no, I can't layer 9 tracks over each other as easily as a digital performer can. And no, my mixes, by their physical nature, aren't as fast or as precise as a purely digital DJ. That's fine. To me, there are few greater connections between myself and the music I'm playing than when my fingers touch an actual record. No new equipment will ever be able to 100% replicate that feeling.
Alas, the mighty Panasonic corporation announced at the end of 2010, the Technics brand of turntables, the flagship tool for vinyl DJing, was being discontinued. Those of us fortunate enough to own a pair of 1200s feel somewhat confident in the ability to keep our decks alive and repaired for decades to come. But the loss is bigger than losing our favorite turntable. As vinyl becomes less and less attractive to modern DJs due to costs and the lack of available quality turntables, there is more to lose than the warm audio fidelity in the club.
What is at stake is the loss of shared experiences that unite all of us that spin vinyl. Talk to any vinyl DJ about shopping in their favorite record stores and you may get sucked into an excited conversation that lasts for hours. Ask a DJ about hunting down an incredibly hard to find record and you'll see a glow of pride in their eye that can't be replicated by finding a torrent with the mp3 you heard on a podcast.
Think about the loss of culture that leaves our communities when record stores close. And I don't mean record stores like Best Buy or Tower Records. I mean the independent shops where new wax lines the walls and used gems sit in dusty crates on the floor waiting to be trolled through. Each and every record store I've spent a few hours in has inevitably become part of my particular memory of the city where the store is located. Get to know a store well enough, and you can see how the city outside the store influences the culture inside the store.
It truly pains me to think that in just a generation or two of DJs, that culture, that way of uniting behind a larger record hunt, could become as foreign to young people as writing a letter by hand has become.
But back to the Give 33 A Chance project -- One day in the winter of 2010, while systematically trying to listen to and organize all of my records, I put a copy of ESG's "Moody" on my turntable and hit start. The groove reminded me a lot of the slower disco I have been playing in clubs -- disco like stuff from Mark E, Lindstrom and the deeper side of DFA Records. I had forgotten what the original ESG sounded like, so only when the pitched down vocal first hit did I realize that the groove I loved was actually a "mistake." But in my mind, the 33 version was actually more enjoyable than the original recording.
From that point on, I made a point to listen to any record that played at 45 not only at its intended speed, but also at 33. Soon I had found an entire stack of my own old records that sounded new and fresh to me.
So why am I playing records at the unintended speed? Maybe because this is my way of constantly pushing myself to stay in touch with vinyl. Maybe because it's a way to breathe new life into old records. Maybe it'll give me a reason to dig in used stores even more. And maybe if other people like what I'm doing, they'll start engaging vinyl in the same way. Maybe in a small way, I can do my part to help keep vinyl alive. Those are all daydreams in some respect.
What really drove my interest in this project is that while there are probably a million different digital tools for replicating this slow-down effect, simply pressing one button on my turntable and letting a record spin at a slightly slower speed creates in some cases a whole new work of music. Just that simple adjustment to some records that I've owned for years turns these songs into new ideas for me to work with. I love that. It fascinates and inspires me.
There's something very honest and genuine to me in presenting records in this way. After spending years dealing with bad requests in clubs, shady and greedy promoters, and other DJs with egos the size of a small moon, just getting to do something that feels genuine to me, for me, even if for a few hours every week, is more than enough reason to do it.
I'm not sure if this idea is going to really go anywhere... but if it does or doesn't, at least it feels like honest expression. What more can a DJ ask for?
-- DJ Mertz, February 16, 2011
