Last night a DJ ruined my life: The (Uni) DJ phenomenon

Photo Courtesy of Unsplah

I first understood the role of the DJ in the summer of 2022 when I saw Juliana Huxtable (New-York based artist and musician) perform a set at a rave in Paris. She artfully weaved 2000s emo kid tunes with industrial techno. Her focus was palpable, and the crowd was visibly enthralled, bodies entangled in a sweaty mess, united by Huxtable’s bizarre yet cohesive mix. Barely anyone was on their phone, a phenomenon which is heavily absent in many London clubs.
The DJ is a somewhat elusive figure and is often the subject of crude memes. However, the DJ has gradually become of a ‘god-like figure’, as Thomas Karsten (one of the architects behind infamous nightclub, Berghain) argues. This is evident in most post-2011 Boiler Room sets on YouTube where the crowd faces the DJ in a trance, all bodies angled towards the booth. 
The proliferation of the ‘uni DJ’ is both a symbol of progress but also, some could argue, an alarming phenomenon. The democratisation of music has made it easier than ever to release and record music, through platforms such as SoundCloud and BandCamp. Second-hand controllers and speakers are readily available on Facebook Marketplace and can be relatively affordable on a uni budget. Additionally, free and lengthy DJ tutorials are  accessible on YouTube. To put it simply, with the necessary tools, anyone can learn how to DJ. 

Previously, vinyl DJ-ing monopolised the industry and its recent revival is exciting, but the comparative “ease” of digitalised decks has taken over. This is a good thing, right? Now anyone can have a go at digitally crate digging and release a mix for all to enjoy. Or is it indicative of our generation’s hubris? As Huxtable and other skilled DJs demonstrate, it can take a lot to keep a crowd rapt. Has the “art” of DJ-ing, through its increased accessibility, digitalisation, and popularity lost its charm?

Watch any archival piece of rave footage from the UK’s Second Summer of Love and observe the crowd facing each other with the DJ placed somewhere towards the back of the warehouse. The impressive soundsystem, the pounding bass of acid house, and the possibility of human connection seem to be the main source of joy. We clearly live in a different time, where spaces that cultivate a similar ethos are rare. Could the popularisation of the DJ have something to do with this? 
Despite my nihilism, I still believe that universities can be productive hubs for budding DJs to perfect their craft and may serve as a great starting point for fruitful careers. Universities can cultivate community and provide spaces for networking, a key asset given the gatekeeping tendencies of the music industry. Many positives arise from this ability for people to express themselves through the medium of DJ-ing. Furthermore, the creation of innovative music labels by contemporary DJs such as T4T LUV NRG (founded by Eris Drew and Octo Octa with a focus on spotlighting trans DJs), Sherelle’s label Beautiful (for black and queer artists), and the popularity of burgeoning London-based events such as Alterum’s Mums Against Donk (M.A.D) show that not all is lost. New and positively disruptive ways of dj-ing continue to emerge and, hopefully, unis can act as spaces to cultivate these new forms of constructive revolt.