By New Times
By Derek Askey
By Mark Deming
By Serene Dominic
By Jason Keil
By Robrt L. Pela and Amy Silverman
By Jeff Moses
By Serene Dominic
"Burn down the disco. Hang the blessed DJ because the music that they constantly play says nothing to me about my life."
-- The Smiths (1986)
According to DJ Emile, there should be panic in the streets of Phoenix because nightlife here may never be the same again. One of the city's premier underground spin doctors and a co-founder of the Bombshelter DJs, Emile recently announced that he will be leaving Phoenix for the more "progressive" musical environment of San Francisco (he will continue to work the occasional out-of-town show with the Bombshelter crew). Echoing Morrissey's lyrics of contempt, he opines, "Musically, all the clubs here suck! I'm asking club owners, 'Why not just get a jukebox and let people pick their tracks? Just hire somebody to stand up there, and hardly anyone will know the difference.'"
For those not familiar with DJ Emile's oral onslaught, his reputation as an outspoken local music "celebrity" precedes him. "People always have something to say about my personality, but I'm not asking you for a date -- I just want to play some records," notes the self-assured DJ.
Emile regards his impending departure as an inevitable career move. "I've done everything I possibly can in this town. I've won Best Club DJ and Best Rave DJ and besides, look at everybody that's left here: Eddie Amador, Mark Farina, Chris Flores, Sandra Collins, Blaze -- all household names." Like a weary employee, Emile feels that relocating will provide a much-needed change of scenery. His decision to leave also reflects his distaste for the prevalence of the local trance scene, which he claims is nothing more than "jacked-up John Tesh music" and maintains that -- contrary to popular belief -- "house [music] is not the cure for cancer."
In addition to spinning, he'll be finishing college with the aim of earning a political-science degree. He says a return to Phoenix would find him in a much different role as he promises to run for city council someday. In the meantime, he has more than a few parting shots reserved for the city's club cognoscente.
"You want to know what the problem is with this town? Hiring DJs from out of state while the locals are struggling makes no sense. It's killing the scene. I really have a problem when the same club that will pay $3,000 for 'world class DJs,' cries about paying me $250. Funny thing is, everybody's jacked up on coke and ecstasy and too high to even care who's spinning. Since that's the case -- hell -- why don't you just pay me the $3,000?!"
Fully agitated, he adds, "These new clubs, especially in Scottsdale, have awful music, but Phoenix has the best DJs in the country that are literally starving. It's like Ethiopia. The people aren't starving because there's no food, it's because the evil dictators aren't allowing the food to get to the people. And they are evil dictators. I think club owners and promoters in general are talentless people that use other people to further themselves."
Inevitably, the discussion turns to Emile's former employer, KIND (Thursdays at Pompeii) promoter Jas Tyson. Emile once enjoyed the position of resident DJ during the promotion's earliest days. Emile claims that most recently, Tyson has offered big money to out-of-town acts like Basement Jaxx while he and other locals were offered nothing but early warm-up slots. "Please, Jas, do us all a favor," shouts an agitated Emile. "Put in a CD, save some money!"
In fact, Emile was given a chance to headline a KIND event, and records show that few attended, while the English house-music duo Basement Jaxx, whom Emile claims remains "unknown by a society jacked up on goofballs," has been packing venues across the nation. And their September 30 stop at Tempe's Pompeii was no exception. Additionally, KIND circulars advertise a variety of local talents performing in "premium" slots. Needless to say, Emile could not prove that he deserved an increase in pay (which was already among the highest in the city) and subsequently lost his residency because of his inability to draw the required crowds.
Undaunted, Emile says, "Thanks to me, KIND has a variety of music. When I was in there, I played a different style every week. That's why they can now book techno, jungle, house, breakbeat or whatever. It's too bad that there'll never be a plaque on the front of that place that reads, 'You are listening to different styles of music because DJ Emile was once a resident here.' I've turned on all these different DJs in Arizona to a variety of styles."
Emile isn't shy about offering his theory on the evolution of DJ culture, either. Speaking as if he himself were immune, he proclaims, "The ultimate ego trip is the DJ! Everybody wants to be a DJ. When you walk into a party and it's going off, who is in control? It's the one guy with a bag of records. It's all about you -- no drummer, no lead singers -- it's all you! Nobody buys guitars anymore, they buy turntables. They're the world's largest-selling instrument now, the number one Christmas gift."