Noticeably absent from the list was popular American DJ, Diplo, who is also a successful producer, record label owner, and style icon. Perhaps the reason why he didn’t show up in the list is because he explicitly prefers to align himself with a global contemporary “underground”. Most recently he has done so in a series of travel journals for Vanity Fair magazine. The first one about this past year’s Carnival in Trinidad and Tobago and the latest where he “Discovers the Last True Underground Club Scene in New York.” In these travel journals Diplo makes clear his critical stance to the mainstream. But, with all the structural inequalities inherent in the industry, and qualifying statements like, “I don’t know a lot about being black and gay and cool…” Diplo’s critique mostly ends up sounding a lot like someone looking for redemption in a pure, untouched, uncontaminated, Other.
Why should you care about this? Because, no matter where you are in the world, if there’s an underground dance scene or marginalized community, Diplo has probably “discovered,” re-framed, and sold it audiences in another part of the world. If he hasn’t yet, he’s on his way, and your local scene might just end up being the next European House or Techno.
Critiques of Diplo’s practices are not hard to come by. In a recent interview in GQ magazine, Diplo defended his practices, arguing that people in various global music scenes, like Jamaican dancehall, just want their music to reach larger audiences and that he facilitates their success. At the same time, his position as cultural authority has earned him gigs producing for acts like Beyoncé and No Doubt. Like here.
I’m not a scholar of Marx, but if I applied some of his basic principles on how Capitalism works, it’s not too hard to fit someone like Diplo into the role of Value appropriator and distributor (he admits as much in the GQ interview.) Instead of coming from labor, Value in this instance is “street credibility” that is harvested from these underground sub-cultures. This credibility is what allows Diplo to have a career as an internationally touring DJ, and Hollywood tastemaker. But in order for Diplo to keep his position as mediator, he must reinforce the underground (Other) status of the scene he is revealing. This is especially evident when one realizes that scenes such as Dancehall, Carnival, and Vogue aren’t really that “undiscovered” after all. Yet, exploitation in this manner is essential to the way Capitalism functions, so maybe it’s not fair to blame one individual for his role in the greater system.
While I fit into both of the groups that Diplo seems to despise (academia and journalism), I am also a global urban dance scene practitioner. Perhaps it would be useful for me to turn to an example of more progressive trends I see, to illustrate the potential of DJing as a revolutionary cultural artform.
This past March, a Twitter “beef” broke out between Diplo and New York based DJ, Venus X. The basic crux of their back-and-forth centered on the attempt of Diplo to record one of Venus’ sets. After he recorded her set, noticing that he performed a set similar to hers, and keenly aware of Diplo’s reputation for “genre discovery”, she decided to call him out for it. He claimed he was helping her get famous. She insisted that she didn’t want to be discovered.
In the time since that moment of exchange on Twitter, Venus’ popularity has grown, and she’s won the types of consulting gigs that employ Diplo. I’ve also become more familiar with her work, and through the process of listening closely to two of her recent mixes, I’ve been able to clarify some of my own thoughts on what it means to be a DJ, and what differentiates her work to that of other DJs and tastemakers in similar positions in the industry.
The art of DJing is as postmodern as it gets. Its essence is appropriation. A DJ re-contextualizes pre-existing cultural expressions to resurrect or re-interpret cultural memory for an audience. For me, Diplo and Venus exemplify two different ways of doing this.
Diplo has become known for taking an “unknown” culture and exposing it to the world. He mixes dominant American culture cues, with “foreign” cultures, and positions himself as the “in the know” intermediary, in turn reinforcing a separation between audience and subject. Venus uses culture memory of various both underground and mainstream cultures to create safe spaces for, and communicate messages to groups that are underrepresented in mainstream cultural discourse (groups that she herself is a part of.)
A few weeks ago I heard Venus appear on DJ/rupture’s Mudd Up radio show. I enjoyed her unorthodox technical style where she slowed down (screwed) her tracks, and then “drumming” the cue buttons on her CD-J’s to emphasize certain sections of the songs she was playing. The syrupy chopped (percussive emphasis through “turntable” tricks) and screwed (slowing down) style isn’t new (it comes from the Houston-Monterey cultural axis of Texas-Mexico border region), but Venus’ framing of it (evident through their conversation) places it in a wider genre of American (Ghetto) Gothic, that mixes elements from a vast sub-section of underrepresented American culture (Latinos, Blacks, LGBT folks, NYC immigrants, hood dwellers, unemployed, underemployed, Drug Users, and generally economically depressed side of the American Rust Belt, not to mention women DJs!)
The day after her radio appearance, Venus released a mixtape with her partner $hane, who together make up part of the GHE20 G0TH1K crew. Still inspired by the radio appearance, I hurriedly downloaded and listened to the new mix on my A train commute from Brooklyn into Manhattan. Towards the end of the mix, someone in the crew was sampling and percussively chopping the dialogue that seemed familiar, from a teen movie that I couldn’t quite place. I went home and googled words that I heard from the clip, “Sebastian” and “funeral.” Up popped a clip of the final scene in the movie Cruel Intentions (I should have known better since that was in the name of the mix.)
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Many of the comments on the video I saw were made by (what seemed like) teenage girls. I suddenly realized that there was a sub-section of American society that thought that what in my opinion was a forgettable movie, was one of the best movies of all time (which was clearly a product of niche marketing.) And then I realized, beyond being sex objects, teenage girls NEVER get repped or even really spoken to (beyond consumers of products that sell them as sex objects) in urban dance music. As the soundtrack of the movie started played the song “Bittersweet Symphony”, I made a second realization. Venus and $hane had probably just ripped the track directly off youtube, and let the soundtrack play out to become part of the mix.
When a DJ chooses a song it’s usually from memory. The best DJs have great musical memories, and can turn the vibe of a party based on this intuition. But musical memory is different from pop-culture memory. Not having a great movie memory myself, I’ve always been amazed at people who can instantly recite movie lines. $hane and Venus’ sampling of a youtube clip, and DJing in a sort of reciting movie lines way, opens up the realm of DJing to a social and pop cultural intuition, beyond the realm of music nerds (like myself.) The art of DJing suddenly becomes more inclusive. Also, by re-framing this film, and pop-culture moment through their GHE20 G0TH1K lens, the crew subverts the niche marketing paradigm, using Hollywood produced pop-culture as a way to create an oppositional collective identity in an industry dominated by white males.
“Western” club DJs are often too stuck in the race for global genre accumulation, to see that the practice of discovery and exposure of Other’s culture is always inevitably exploitative. In contrast, Venus X, GHE20 G0TH1K, Mike Q, and others that are doing similar work around the world today, are re-storing the cultural legitimacy of the DJ by creating safe spaces for underrepresented groups, and even allowing space for people from the dominant culture (like Diplo) to join in and feel safe. This is the same context that almost every mass-popular genre, like House, Hip-Hop, Reggae, Disco, and Dubstep came out of. Diplo’s right that this whole DJ thing is supposed to be about community, but how does mainstream exposure benefit a community unless they have total control, and the means to collectively capitalize on that exposure? We’re all still living in a system that has oppressed many of these “discovered” communities for centuries. As both a Western and African DJ (identities are complicated, no?), I believe that recognizing each others’ subjectivity, yet acknowledging our mutual humanity can only lead to the more globally communal future that we all are fighting and hoping for. We should dance in the world we want to live in.