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Image Courtesy of Poinciana Cafe Mullumbimby

Byron Arts & Ind. Est

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Strangely enough I never had a dream of becoming a DJ. I did however have what you might call an epiphany one time in London in 1993, precisely ten years before I first touched the turntables in Sydney in 2003. This epiphany occurred at an after party, a common occurrence once we left The Ministry of Sound, a place that transformed lives and united an era of people who were hooked on the collective love we all felt by being there. We were part of something phenomenal, the birth of house music, love doves and the underground rave scene in the early 90's.  What a combination! Walking into Ministry was like coming home. No longer lost, alone, afraid or isolated, the dancefloor was a seething wave of steamy bodies that engulfed you in its irresistible cloud and took you places you never wanted to come back from. It brought a dance nation together, a generation of ecstasy gobbling, gooning, gorgeous souls who asked nothing of you except to dance. Swept up in the waves of life as I often have been, I was attracted to the crowd that always kept going. There was no stop button, no pause, no rest or sleep, it was one long adventure of music and movement and one of those waves lead me to this specific DJ epiphany. Loading the turntables, lighting, speakers, DJ's, records and bodies into cabs, cars, and onto a few magic carpets, we restarted the party anywhere we could find: An empty house where parents had gone away, old pubs where someone knew the landlord, underground bars that had closed and reopened for us, parks (there was a period of Hyde Park gatherings on Sunday's where masses of us, still dressed in club gear, would set up near the fountains with boom boxes, blankets, frisbees, and free love. Maaaan those were some special times). One day or night, I don't recall, we ended up in a huge house for one such after party. I remember only that it had many floors and a solid plush carpeted staircase that took me down to the basement level where some people had set up a set of turntables in a spare room and were giving it a go. As I stood in the doorway someone called out to me to have a go putting a record on. It had never occurred to me to do so but as I stood in the doorway I heard and felt something remarkably powerful.  I heard clearly the words:  "If I touch the turntables, they'll take over my life"  I froze in limbo for a few moments, as if frozen in time, before deciding all I wanted to do was dance, so took myself back upstairs to rejoin the party. I don't remember anything else about that party before or after that moment in the doorway.  I never thought about it again or pondered the possibility of DJing. I never gave it another thought. Until ten years later in Sydney. Hugos Lounge 2003. I know this date to be exact as I've kept journals my whole life through lack of being able to communicate with the rest of the world. I was working as Host/Reception Manager at Hugos Lounge, from its opening in 2000-2003, my first three years in Sydney. Hugos was an iconic venue in Kings Cross throughout the noughties, appropriate for that time as it was naughty as naughty can be and if you were there, then you know! One of my natural responsibilities was the music and then eventually the DJ's that came to relieve us of the same CDs on repeat, week after week.​ Sneaky Soundsystem were our first resident DJ's and then two very special female DJ's Jackie Shan and Lady Tre came to play. Thursday nights for Tre and Saturday nights for Shan. We fast became family and would talk and play music all night and into the sunrise and back into the sunset. If there was music was playing, we wouldn't go to sleep. Throughout these legendary sessions they both started to say things like "When you start playing...." and I was like.... huh?  Mid 2003 Shan came to the owners with a proposal to have an all-female DJ night at Hugos on Wednesdays called Sista. It was to highlight the incredible talents of the under recognised female talent that was out there playing in the male dominated landscape of DJing. The night started and the first DJ that played was inappropriate for the timeslot. We were a restaurant first, then a bar, and then a cranking nightclub. The music needed to reflect the mood of the Lounge in all its stages, so I shared my thoughts on the style of music to which Shan replied, "Do you want to come and play next week?" ​ I did. ​ I touched the turntables. ​ They took over my life. ​ No one ever taught me how to mix. It just made sense. I never once practiced at home, I borrowed some records for that first gig and remember sitting in the car with a small bag of records on my lap knowing in my heart that someday I would be lugging great cases of vinyl around. To where I didn't yet know but still, I knew. The whirlwind that followed was out of my control. As though someone else had come in and taken over my life. I, as the observer, yet simultaneously in the driving seat of this momentum of music and mixing. It was surreal, sublime, never scary, up there spinning tunes to heaving crowds, something I honestly believe I could never have done had it not started at the Lounge. This was my home. My happy place. Full of friends that were my family. It's where it all began.  From there I was taken on a wild journey that caused me to become adrenally exhausted after realising I had played my heart and soul out in the ensuing 6 years and had nothing left. Empty. Not a single drop of anything left for me. Thats when I left Sydney and moved to Byron. It was 2009. We ALL have gifts inside of us waiting to be discovered. All it takes is the right conditions to allow them to flourish and grow into something you'd never even imagine. I was 33 years old when I first and finally touched those turntables. Who are you and what gifts still lay dormant inside of you I wonder? ​​ These days I play outdoor festivals only. Island Vibe, Earth Freq, Burning Seed. And of course, the Radio. These places and people fuel me and give me back as much as I give out. There are many stories of gigs in exotic, erotic, chaotic locations and more than a few moments of pure joy and connection I could share, but I keep those moments for myself.​ ​ They are the fuel that feeds the flame. ​ Forever burning for the turntables. x​

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