I used to spin progressive trance, maybe a little goa or psy here and there, some F-8 and Tinrib for when the 12-year-olds were in da house....
UNTIL that damn station bit me off so hard not even a triple dose of pink dolphins could make me feel loved. Why pay $25 at the Barn or 1015, why risk getting hassled by the cops at a rave or festival, when all you need is E, a boom box, someone to get naked with, and 92.7 The Party??? Brilliant! The DJ is the radio, get it? Covert. Underground. Like the French Resistance tuning into the BBC to hear their orders read out in code. The electronic hedonism mantra can now be tuned in live directly via the aether, rather than through the administration of the DJ, much like how Calvinists sought their own, direct relationship with God, unhindered by the fetters of the Catholic clergy.
Me? Now I spin butt-nasty reality booty diva breakz with a little nu skool salsa-hop on the side and a twist of neotribalcybertechdubdancehalltwo-stepjunglehouse for all y'all's peeps. 128 bpm all the time! I'm using my fully-integrated IEEE 1394 multimedia console controller with Kaos Pad under OS X.2 to work the sound AND the lights, baby.
YOU DON'T GET LIGHTS OVER THE RADIO, BEEEEEEEEEEYATCH!
I'm totally like UG for another five years, at least, until that Internet thing heats up again....