Ten years a mobile DJ! As a student from 1978 to 1981, and as a pro from 1999 to 2006, these are the tracks and the tales of life behind the decks. Weekly posts.

Thursday 20 May 2021

You’re the First, the Last, my Everything (Barry White, 1974)

Chastened by my first booking at the George in Penrith, when I was told in no uncertain terms to smarten myself up, I made extra efforts to impress for my second, five years later. It was a wedding reception in the handsome ballroom of the hotel and I wore a sober jacket and tie in an effort to pour oil on once troubled waters. If only the wedding guests had made the same effort.


Oh, they were well turned out: the George is an up-market venue. The women wore plenty of gold lamé meringue and the men were in ill-fitting suits of many pastel shades. It was a cross-border affair. The bride – let’s call her Juliet – was from Cumbria in northwest England, the groom – Romeo – from Northumbria in the northeast. Their families were, like their namesakes’, worlds apart.

The set up was hurried – I wasn’t allowed to set up before the wedding breakfast, and I was put not in the ballroom itself but on a tiny minstrel’s gallery overlooking it. There was only six feet of headroom (I am 6’3”) and it was about ten feet above the dance floor. I felt very detached from proceedings down below, which as it turned out was probably just as well.

The couple were of course a lot younger than I, and mercifully they were organised enough to have made up a CD of favourites. Although a DJ’s pride bristles at such interventions – surely he or she is the expert at sensing what a crowd want? – I was grateful for some pointers. It included the couple’s unconventional First Dance, a track by Ben Folds Five, and a rather touching Second Dance, a surprise from the bride to her father: Barry White’s You’re the First, the Last, my Everything.

Do DJs still play Barry White? The track was already an oldie by the time of my first stint as a DJ in the late 1970s, but still a popular request. Although it’s something of a soul-disco classic, the hit started life as a country and western song, You’re my First, my Last, my In-Between, written by Peter Radcliffe, a friend of Barry’s. It went unrecorded for two decades before White rewrote the lyrics, taking it to #1 in the UK and the US.

It had the advantage of working both as a dance track and as a more intimate declaration of love. White’s substantial girth, rich bass voice and luxuriant tusk-like moustache earned him the less-than-kind epithet “the walrus of love”. He died in 2003, two years before Juliet’s affectionate choice for a last dance with her father.

Juliet’s wedding disco began more or less as these things do. It was a little hard to gauge the mood from my eyrie but there was a steady flow of dancers on the floor. Two of the guests were from South America and asked me to play a track from a salsa CD they had brought. We were then treated to a thrilling, vibrant demonstration of Latin dancing by the pair. It made the usual plodding disco shuffle of the rest of the guests even duller by comparison.

As the evening wore on, I became aware of fewer and fewer people dancing. This happens at weddings: it’s a long day for the couple and their friends, some of whom have travelled quite long distances, even if not from Latin America. I played everything I could to entice people away from their tables or the bar, but as we approached midnight the ballroom was all but empty. The bar was in a neighbouring lounge.

Then one of the guests – let’s call him Mercurio – stumbled back into the room. His jacket was off, his tie loosened, his cuffs undone and his white shirt spattered with blood. I was playing the Scissor Sisters’ Filthy/Gorgeous at that moment, and in one of the breaks in the music before the chorus, I heard an angry voice bellowing from off-stage: “I didn’t drive two hundred miles to be insulted …” The rest was lost in the track’s triumphant “You’re filthy! and I’m gorgeous! You’re disgusting, and you’re nasty!”


I must have played a hundred weddings over the years and on behalf of romantics everywhere I’m happy to say that this is the only one which ended in rancour. I hope Romeo and Juliet had already left on their honeymoon by then. As I write they should be celebrating their sixteenth wedding anniversary.

 

No comments:

Post a Comment

Popular posts