With the terrible destruction of one of my DJ decks (okay, it has suffered some damage that can probably be repaired), I thought I would re-visit this article I wrote in June 2002. Happy reading...
The Beatmatch
Sitting in the studio of what is now Manchester’s Galaxy 102, with its gleaming record decks and a whole (ahem) galaxy of ridiculous jingles that can be fired into the mix at the touch of a keyboard, I feel in awe of the DJ who has just taken the cellophane off a record and, without listening to it first, beatmatches it seemlessly into the disc that is playing.
It is legendary DJ Graeme Park and he is, as the jingles boldly pronounce, “in the mix”. Two years later, I buy DJ decks for the first time, inspired by Parks’ incredible ability to throw two records together and match the tempo with a mere twiddle of knob and a flick of wrist. It’s genius, it’s sexy… and I want it.
I learned to beatmatch (or ‘beatmix’ if you’re into saving letters) on CD decks that were part of Pioneer’s stall at a DJ equipment fair. Two weeks later I bought record decks and taught myself to beatmatch within two hours. How did I do it? I imitated what I had seen Graeme Park do, and many other of his contemporaries like Andrew Weatherall and Sven Vath. And amazing things happen once you’ve learnt to match beats to the exact bass drum. Your friends envy you. Crowds want to be you. And yet… and yet…
Beatmatching is vinyl’s playground bully. Firstly, it tries to impress by flexing its musical muscles and attempting to sound clever. But it isn’t clever when you get a perfect mix but one record has been slowed to half its speed and the other is galloping along like an ass with a bee-stung ass. Beatmatching thinks it’s important, the top don, the dog’s bongos, and yet it has the ability to twist the record arm behind music’s back and blackmail a good tune into whimpering submission. Kylie may mix well into Nickelback, but only when Chad Kroeger sounds like a chipmunk and the Queen of Pop sounds more like Nick Cave. Change the tempo to get a beatmatch, please, but change it too much and you just end up smacking your pitch up.
Secondly, beatmatching is a bully because it intimidates learner DJs into hanging up their decks and surrendering their discs to dust. Beatmatching isn’t everything, and it’s not wimpy just to want to play records without mixing them. No, really. For a start, Aphex Twin doesn’t mix with anything, and neither do most rock tunes that have ever been released. People just want a good tune, whether it’s house, garage or a small brick extension to the rear of the property.
To quote the songwriter, please don’t let me be misunderstood; I chase the perfect beatmatch as much as the next DJ, and my intense concentration and the small pool behind the decks, generated from my resultant sweating, is testament to that. I know I am good at beatmatching, and I go for long, clever and creative mixes wherever I can.
But I also do sets with no beatmatching whatsoever because it’s all about playing amazing tunes that make you laugh, cry, nod your head and break your heart. Compared to Orbital’s The Girl With The Sun In Her Head, Lamb’s Gorecki or Sabres Of Paradise’s Smokebelch, my skills don’t mean jack, no sir.
DJs, know your place.
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