Microslut 2000

Microslut 2000

“Yo homey! don’t cha know me?” It rang out from the back of the plane. “Sure,” I thought, “It’s DJ Microwiz, the underground sensation of the western seaboard.” The only problem was the crowded couch of assorted Playboy bunnies, drag queens, and a motley group of “degenerate” males. Microwiz’s publicist had been very vehement when stating no photos were allowed and no press photos would ever be taken. So who was calling out? Well, I should have known it would be the most ridiculous-looking individual of them all. The face was oddly recognizable, but I couldn’t place where I’d seen it before.


Let’s get to the crux of the matter. Why aren’t you allowing photos?

I want to keep my status of anonymity.

That’s going to be hard with the number of shows you’re doing.

Who said anything about me being seen at my shows? Who said anything about me actually being there? It’s a total visual stimulation show, and there’s a huge screen set up around me. Why can’t I just pay someone else to act like a gimp on stage while I sit comfortably elsewhere “broadcasting” the signal?

That’s a high-tech version of Milli Vanilli. You’ll never survive. The masses will eat you alive after I expose your plan!

Try it. You can’t print a photo you don’t have, so unless you follow the whole tour you’ll never know when I’m there and when I’m not.


Microwiz started laughing, and his cast of “loyal followers” started as well. Though the better question is, how do I know this isn’t just a put on, a middle finger to the music journalism industry? If I take his word, then I have to believe it’s entirely possible that the Microwiz in front of me is nothing more than an actor pulling my strings. Regardless, somewhere, there is a large sum of money paying for the plane, food, drinks, and mayhem. I feel more than a little put off as my irritation starts gnawing away my own integrity. What’s the worst that can happen? I get thrown off the plane for being a jerk? Wouldn’t be the first nor the last time, that’s for certain. Time to play dirty!


So you’re noting but an industry-made pop star, like those horrid Spice Girls?

No way! I own the Spice Girls!

No, you don’t.

Girls, who owns the Spice Girls?

Posse : You do, Billy. You can own anything!

Darn skippy. I can do anything I want.

So your real name is Billy, eh?

Candy : Oh my god! I am SO sorry.

It’s OK, Candy. You’re still sweet as sugar.


That face is so familiar, it’s on the tip of my tongue. It just won’t connect. I have to give up. I will come to me; I’m quite certain. However, it’s time to find out what makes this cat so special.


So, what started you DJ’ing?

I got bored with my job, and well, I’ve got enough money to do it for quite some time.

Yeah, well, be careful. Labels have been known to run bands into the ground with advances.

Not an issue. I pay it all out of pocket. The world needs someone like me. It’s my moral obligation to provide the world my talent.

No ego, then?

Well, I never was very good with the whole humility thing. It’s overrated, anyway. Sure, if you aren’t humble, the press will label you as an arrogant jerk, but what does it matter? Every big name act can make demands and have them fulfilled. I’m just paying for it. We’re all jerks at heart anyway.

So, you spin acid house?

London acid house, specifically. England has a whole different vibe than the US in respect to acid house. It’s a really pure vibe, and people understand it.

That’s pretty rough. There’s a lot of original music coming out in the US that isn’t “tainted” with stereotypes.

It’s just too hard to search it out. Why be “original” when something else has already been proven to work?

Because styles change. People do have a choice and an opinion, remember?

And right now, they are telling me to keep doing it. So until something better comes along, I’ll stick with the “tried and true” approach. Really, how many people out there are actually doing something completely original? I know only one, and that’s Pottymouth. It’s downright hysterical and happening. We’re playing Caesar’s Palace in Vegas on the Fourth of July.

How did you pull that off?

Money. It really can do almost anything.


As disgusted as I was, I have to admit Microwiz made some excellent points. The bigger you are, the more demands you are allowed, and if he has the money, I guess he can do whatever he wants. It just makes me uneasy knowing it. I’ve heard the clubs on the west coast are on fire when he “hits the turntables,” but who’s really behind this? Is it real, or is it Memorex? More importantly, who owns that face? I still can’t figure it out.

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