When the Pulse Stops: A DJ’s Perspective

To be quite honest, I had no intention of writing this post up until a few hours ago. I’m not going to say that I felt moved by an outside force, or that I felt compelled by the grace of God, or a similar cliché.  I won’t deny that the thought of saying something has been picking at me for the past 24 hours or so.

As I’m sure much of the world is well aware a man entered Pulse, a gay nightclub in Orlando, FL and opened fire, killing 50 and injuring 53, early Sunday morning. The shooting is statistically the deadliest in United States history.

The LGBTQ community has been hit hard, but has remained resilient, as social media and the Pride parades this weekend have demonstrated. While we are a country divided, and there is a need for reform to address the plague of mass shootings that has been too commonplace in America – I feel epidemic is too soft of a word – I want to highlight another perspective:

I could’ve been the DJ that night. You, the DJ reading this could’ve been there that night. A tragedy of this magnitude could happen to any of us, on any work night.

I’m not saying these things to instill fear, mind you. I’ve written before about my life as an engineering student and as an intern on high rise construction sites in NYC,  the possibility of death is always evident. We are taught to take appropriate measures, get appropriate licenses, wear appropriate gear, take as many precautions as are practical and possible, but still things happen. Falls, cuts, bruises, death are all accounted for – even expected – on job sites.

We do what we can.

I’m not going to lie, after really thinking about what had happened at Pulse, I was  pretty shell shocked. I texted my girlfriend, telling her how uneasy I felt – do I want to keep playing clubs? Can I handle being out there into the late hours of the night? If someone came with me, could I protect them? Am I overthinking this? It was like being in a car accident; the fear can be paralyzing.

This morning, I was listening to Z100, a local radio station, on my way to work. Elvis Duran, the morning show host, is a radio veteran and legend to every New Yorker, who have probably heard his voice at some point or another.  The start of the show was rather somber, but Duran’s message was clear:

“This is what we as entertainers are here for. When things like this happen, it’s our job to get people together, to smile, to get away from it all, even if it’s just for a couple of minutes.”

As DJ’s, our job transcends the hours behind the decks. It extends to the photos and the memories associated with them; to the reunion of friends on a night out; to the person at the bar who just ended a relationship and is looking for a reason to smile; the feelings that every track evokes; every new smile when the beat drops; and the friends, connections, and collaborations we make with each other, masters and apprentices of our craft.

In the wake of these tough times, I want to extend a hand to all of my fellow DJs. As you head to your gigs, even under the most trying circumstances, remain strong, keep faith, and make someone smile.

I want to recognize a few people, who’ve made my DJ life special, and feature this collage of some of my fondest DJ memories in lieu of my usual picture layout. These pictures aren’t retouched and capture the essence of what I want to convey in this blog post:

1. My mom, my brother, and my girlfriend, who’ve stayed up into the late hours to make sure I get home safe from every gig.

2. DJ Cue and DJ Arkitec, who made my first headline slot memorable.

3. Kid Fuego, Black Ivan, and the rest of the Fiesta En La 8 crew, who taught me to do something once, and make sure to do it right.

4. Kirk Cosier, Wes Laga, and Pan!c, who gave me my first gig following the DJ TechTools article.

5. WerdyNerdy and TheWunderKindOf, who always spare a minute to proofread.

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