When A. is out, as she was on Saturday night, I like nothing more than to slip into something comfortable and light a couple of candles. I then open a bottle of wine or two from the Exquisite range at Aldi and get my hands on my glowing Traktor.
No, that’s not a spelling mistake.
As a 43-year-old, I no longer DJ in my bedroom. In fact, I am not sure I ever did. I got my first set of decks, Technics SL-1200s and a Pioneer DJM500, when I moved up to work in Glasgow at 24. Before then I was a punter, a dreamer – an occasional podium dancer. But there, in Glasgow, I became king of the Nightclub for one.
Occasionally there would be more people about, depending on how many stragglers made it back to mine for the third or fourth after party venue of the night. Though I was truly in my element when I played to no one on a wet, Tuesday evening overlooking Glasgow Green.
I have carried forward the tradition as I have moved on – in years and locations – away from the hurly-burly of clubbing and after party chat. Now my decks are sold off and my last link to the past – those heady clubbing days – comes in the form of the Native Instruments Traktor Kontrol S5.
So when I am alone (or at least, when the kids are in bed), the old desire to fire something up takes hold – bright lights rather than a spinning turntable – and I play the set I always imagined I would in The Arches, Room 3 of Fabric or The End; at 10pm where the only people listening are paid to be there.
I take inspiration from the music I hear on the two Defected Records Podcasts which come out on a Monday and Tuesday morning. This gives me plenty of time to log on to whichever online record store is offering an “exclusive” VIP discount that week. To sort out the tunes in my virtual record bag for the weekend.
I’m not always alone. With the introduction of Instagram stories and videos I can now press record and be beamed into the phones and Saturday nights of as many people who follow me, and have nothing better to do than watch my head move from side to side as my marching feet dance takes hold.
Mainly people drop in and out within a couple of seconds as they realise there is nothing worthwhile to see, but other times the odd loyal person will stay with me until, like the promise of Carl Cox from the other side of the world via ISDN, the line goes down and we have to start all over again.
Loyal people like Mario, the award-winning cheesemaker who listens in between making food to sell at a market the following morning, or Claire who once joined in as she danced around the library at York University. So Nightclub for three was born – or reborn, if you take that night I reviewed for DJ Magazine on The Renfrew Ferry in Glasgow as the very first.
Then there is the sound of a key in the door. A. will walk in, trying subtly not to appear on camera, and in my head I can hear the crowd – all two of them – chanting “one more tune”, before I select the turntable filter on the Traktor and bring the night to a close.
For three hours on a Saturday night I get to have some fun, drink too much wine and occasionally accept an invite from someone on Instagram to let them join in the action via a split screen video.
So if you follow me on Instagram and ever see a live video alert pop up on a Saturday night do, please, come and join in the fun. The current record we are looking to beat is nightclub for five – the next record is likely to be something remixed by one of the DefMix crew.
Images: Some of the tunes played on Saturday night; #BOTHS from my “DJ Booth” to rival anything commissioned by Junior Vasquez in New York City (football top is of LG Trino of non-league fame in Piemonte, Italy)