Better Know a DJ: Ari Hires

1978

…So ladies and gentlemen, I regret to inform you that you’re meant for something greater,

Something greater than loose leaf pages and chasing paper.

You gotta look outside of yourself and outside of time. Stretch your necks if need to.

And when something great comes along, be sure to let ‘em know – it’s on.

The lanky speaker with notably good hair left the stage with a period the audience could feel like loaded seeds lodged in their chests. Ari, a weekly attendant at open mic Tuesdays at Busboys and Poets, a restaurant, bookstore, and performance venue in Washington D.C., at once felt inspired and overwhelmed. Ari was a reticent young lady growing up in Lorton, Virginia, 15 minutes south of D.C. with an avid interest in journalism, culture, and the people of Papua New Guinea. A supportive wallflower, always drawn by the wordsmithery and conviction of local spoken word artists and poets, she managed to make the trip up every week when she could. Who knows? Maybe she’d brave up and make it up to the stage one day. What would she speak of? Perseverance? Hair and beauty ideals? The contagiousness of Celia Cruz? Wishing she could have gone to Soul Train to see Cheryl Lynn sing “Got to Be Real”? The awesomeness of giraffes – woah!

Ari’s vision faded to white, and Busboys and Poets froze in its tracks. The hot coffee some barista was pouring his patron suspended itself in air. Peaking from a rip in the still fabric of the restaurant, radiant among a washed out, frozen environment was a long necked figure, awkward superficially, but made wholly beautiful from this new supernatural environment. He spoke.

Ari, I am your spirit animal.

“!” said Ari to the giraffe.

You have been chosen, From the big savannah in the sky, we’ve been watching you. For being the only person in the world who recognizes the greatness of our kind, we reward you. I hereby imbue you with the boldness and fierceness of THE GREAT GIRAFFE.

“!”

Use your new abilities for good!

The megalomaniacal giraffe faded away, and time resumed. Ari looked down and noticed that her wardrobe had changed. Suddenly, she was a supafly diva, and she felt like one.

Ari looked over to the left and noticed that the coffee-pouring barista was off in his aim. The drink was hurling towards someone’s lap. Using her newly-garnered special giraffe powers, she stretched her neck and nudged an empty tea cup with her head to intercept the wayward pour. The rest of the restaurant and the barista were too busy still swooning over the last poet’s words to notice.

The patron, however, was thoroughly impressed.

“I’m thoroughly impressed,” he said. “What’s your name?”

“Hotter than Coffy, Nobler than Cleopatra Jones, Meaner than Foxy Brown. I’m the diva queen Ari Hires, Now whatchu doing in my town?”

[woah! Where’d that come from? Is this the power of THE GREAT GIRAFFE?]

“I’m Agent Wasp. I work for the CIA. I see you have great talent. The government needs you to take care of a threat to national security.”

“Quit talking jive, brotha. You're sounding like old President Kennedy. Don’t tell me what I can do for The Man. What can The Man do for me?

[This is awesome! Just go with it, go with it!]

“This assignment will have you posted as a DJ. Seems like that’ll be your type of thing. You down?”

“I can dig it.”

“Follow me to CIA headquarters. We’ll brief you there. Oh, and from here on, you’ll be known as Agent Hi_Res.”

"Groovy."

At CIA Headquarters:

The room was manic. Giant blinking computers spewing out encoded paper were being attended to by buzzing swarms of assistants who would then run around and relay the information elsewhere. There was hardly any room to walk, yet Agents Wasp and Hi_Res made their way to a clearing in the center of the room.

“I’ll be brief,” began Wasp. “There’s a terrorist witch with unimaginable power performing soul transmigrations and sending people on nonconsented vision quests. Luckily, but perhaps strangely, she’s been targeting only student DJs at WXYC.”

“Isn’t that that radio station over in North Carolina?”

“That’s right. We want you to go undercover, find, and incapacitate this witch. We believe you have enough sass to resist her witchcraft. There is one problem, however. She resides in the year 2012, thirty-four years in the future.”

“Say what!? How do you turkeys expect me to fight witch crime 34 years in the future?”

“We are prepared. You see, there is another sorceress, but this one is one of us. Her name is Queen Enchantress Beyoncé. She’s a member of the Illuminati which has in the future allied itself with the CIA, especially in the issue of wayward sorceresses.

Agent Hi_Res was briefly overtaken by the seeming greatness of Queen Enchantress Beyoncé. “Wow, Queen B is one bad motha-”

Agent Wasp continued, “In 2006, she discovered the perfect choreography for amazing feats of time travel. She recorded it in a music video which ostensibly is meant for entertainment, but is rather an instructional video to CIA special operations agents future, past, and present.” Agent Wasp diverted his gaze to one of the standard-issue assistants buzzing around. “Stetson! Prepare the reel!”

Some guy presumably named Stetson did as he was told, and a large blank screen lowered in front of Agents Hi_Res and Wasp. Lights dimmed. The reel rolled.

This was what illuminated the screen.

After a few moments, Ari admitted, “Right on! This is the best jam I ever heard!”

“Indeed, our researchers have confirmed that this is the best jam ever.”

Agent Hi_Res was indeed already seemingly entranced and grooving.

“Your mission, Agent, is to memorize and perform this choreography to be transported to Chapel Hill 2012 where you will assume the role of student DJ. We have prepared a story for you to better integrate yourself in your future home. When asked why you became a DJ, you will respond, ‘I wanted to be a DJ because I love music and surfing air waves. It's my way of teleporting to multiple places at one time. I'm sort of obsessed with transportation.’ In its own way, it is a wry truth with you now becoming a time-traveler. You will continue, ‘I've always wanted a "Different World" kind of college experience where I was the Lisa Bonet in my own way, and XYC is that, but what sealed the deal was at the 80s Jam where I had a dance off with a mysterious, lanky DJ with the awesome hair and golden dance moves.’”

“What’s A Different World? Who’s Lisa Bonet?”

“We figured you’d ask; we’ve also prepared this cultural and technological primer to get you acclimated to 2012.” Wasp handed her a laptop from the future with Wikipedia and Youtube tabs open. “Your mission will begin tomorrow morning. Good luck and God speed.”

Agent Hi_Res spent the night studying the intricacies of Queen Enchantress Beyoncé’s moves, and by morning, she was an expert on all things modern and post-modern. She began to get bodied.

By the time she was doing the Naomi Campbell Walk, a white cyclone had begun spinning around her. She was separated from her surroundings. By the time she was snapping for the kids, the cyclone had dissipated and she realized she was in the control room of a radio station, presumably WXYC in 2012.

2012

After finishing up the Get Me Bodied spell-dance, she had her game face on. She checked the advanced computer-device in front of her. It was 10 AM on a Thursday, and she was alone here at the station. This must be her shift! She scoured around for a song to play and ran across a song by Corinne Bailey Rae called Put Your Records On. Hi_Res decided it would be her theme song.

Upon playing her song, she sat in the control room chair, hands firmly on the knobs and sliders of the mixer. Fittingly, she felt firmly in control.

She remembered what she was here for. Something great.

I am The Queen Diva DJ Hi_res. Bring it, witch. It’s on.

--------------------

Y'all suckas can catch DJ Hi_Res pumping out jamz every Thursday from 10 AM to noon at WXYC 89.3 FM.

Better Know a DJ: Grant Bisher

“Look at this loser,” I thought when I first met Grant Bisher.

He was sitting across from me at a table in Lenoir while his (cooler, funnier, and frankly better looking) older brother was live DJing to Lenoir’s hungry masses, each consumer occasionally taking time away from demolishing their chicken fajitas and sushi to nod in approval when Rihanna started playing. I, however, could neither eat nor feel like the only girl (in the world), not with this guy in my vicinity. Apparently, the feeling was mutual. I caught a few stink eyes that night. I was hoping he had just caught a reflection of himself in the window behind me.

Later, I learned that Grant was hired as a new DJ this Fall, and ever since I had been wondering how we could let this lanky plebeian spin for us.

In my curiosity, I arranged a chat with Grant. Maybe we could bond over the Better Know a DJ series. Perhaps, there was an interesting mind behind the off-putting demeanor. We found some time at our old meeting/stomping/battlegrounds – the Top of Lenoir. Between our snarls I threw around some softball questions.

Hey so, what’s your favourite band?

Foster the People!

[I’m judging you so hard right now]. Well, that’s interesting, but I suppose also expected. Next question: Considering we’re in Lenoir right now, what’s your favourite food?

Pasta the people!

Um…how about your favourite Disney character?

Mufasa the People!

[This guy must be deranged] Actress?

Jodie Foster the People!

[Or is this a joke?…It better be a joke. I wonder how far he can take this.] Do you have a religion?

Rasta the People!

What do you do in your spare time?

Foster the peephole!

I had had enough of trying to deal with this backwards nobody. Still curious as to why Grant was the horrible person he was, I visited Grant’s better half, his dog Kipper. I had learned from Grant’s associates that he had an intensely close, almost spiritual relationship with Kipper. I followed Grant home (from a distance – Grant is too repulsive to be followed closely), and met his pet. Admittedly, this dog was quite amicable, serene, and supercute. I knelt down and couldn't help but ask, “How could a bumpkin be the owner of such a majestic creature?”

mmrrgkg

“What’s that? You’re the real Grant Bisher, and the one walking around in the human body is actually Kipper the dog? How’d that happen?

…[squeal]

So let me get this straight: You were walking your dog through the woods, getting in touch with your German roots and re-enacting the story of Hansel and Gretel (you were Hansel, Kip was Gretel) when you ran into a witch. The witch was pissed over the inaccurate, offensive portrayal of witches in that old children’s tale that you seemed to glorify, and in an act of retribution, she exchanged your and Kipper’s souls so that you may more positively reevaluate how you judge humans by making you an incarnate of ‘man’s best friend’? But how does that explain the Foster the People fixation?

Grarwwoof[mumble]

You went on a road trip once with Kipper and “Pumped Up Kicks” was all that was playing on the radio the whole time? Kipper seemed to enjoy it, and now Foster the People is his favourite band largely because it’s the only band he knows, and now he thinks that radio is synonymous with “Pumped Up Kicks”? Well, I can’t blame him, it’s such a damn catchy song; I hate it.

Hhhmbf

So have you learned your lesson? Do you hold witches in kind regard these days?

…

Wow! You want to burn the witch who did this to you? So harsh! I suppose you haven’t learned anything. I guess that’s why there’s still a hideous dog-boy parading about…Well, good luck.

-------------------

Catch all the Pumped Up Kicks you could ever want between 10 AM and 12 PM on Tuesdays.

Better Know a DJ: Billy Marinello

Welcome to the first in a series of posts in my Better Know a DJ series. I have a feeling many listeners (and a good number of DJs) don’t know who the people spinning throughout the day are. In this series, I aim to explore the lives behind your favourite self-confident disembodied voices. These are all based on interviews. Trust me.

First up, our business manager and regular DJ, Billy Marinello:

Billy Marinello was prancing along the brick walkways of campus in the direction of the Student Union carelessly pondering life’s big questions. How much popcorn should I buy at the grocery for the next episode of Doctor Who? How does my hair look? Whatever happened to plug-in love? In his careless wandering, he bumped into something and soon realize he’d gone far off-course. He had ended up in the middle of the woods. He’d bumped into things before. He’d been in forests. However, these trees seemed almost omnipresent, shivering with an intensity he’d never seen before. The mirage of woods seemed to give way to a shadowy figure directly in front of him. Billy unfortunately did not run into a tree. Billy had crossed paths with a witch.

She was a standard image of a witch – dull skin, flowing black shadowy clothes, etc. She had been out in the woods, picking herbs for her next magical concoction, when she had sensed an especially misanthropic aura nearby. This aura was Billy’s. Billy had spent a good chunk of his young life under a policy hating everyone. No one really knows why. Spastic declarations “I hate everyone” or “I hate everything” would escape him regularly like taglines. No one ever really took him seriously, but that probably only made him more strangely vengeful. Anyway, the witch was disturbed by Billy’s bubbling evil, and decided to coax a change in Billy’s demeanor. To learn to accept and integrate himself with the world, he would need to first be closer to nature. This intimacy is lost on most human beings, so she turned Billy into an antelope.

A hazy sequence of what seemed like stage pyrotechnics accompanied the awkward morphing of his bones accommodating his new lithe, quadrupedal body. Billy was rightfully confused. “This strange lady is probably going to be added to my hate-list,” he thought. Eventually, the billows of fog cleared and Billy found himself inhabiting the body of an antelope on a savannah underneath an ominous grey and furiously storming sky. He wanted shelter.

Billy pranced among the slippery grasses of this savannah until he found a cave which he then dashed towards. Inside, he was relieved for only a moment. Viscous, muddy runoff that had accumulated on the edge of the terrace overlooking the cave had decided that it needed a change of scenery. The thick clay fell over the entrance, and Billy had found himself trapped by the mudslide. Billy turned from the former exit and saw in the dimming light an large furry figure rising groggily, likely disturbed by the events happening outside the cave. Their eyes met, and Billy could sense within the pair a violent, carnal desire. Billy was trapped in a cave with a steadily approaching hungry bear.

Without many options, Billy pranced to the edge of the cave and cowered in fear. In a less pressing situation, he would have pondered the logic of a bear living in a savannah, but these are times when one reflects back on one’s life, so that’s what Billy did.
Billy recalled his youth. He grew up in a Navy family and dabbled his childish feet in many parts of the world. He had experienced many cultures and met many people until he had settled in Charlotte some five or six years ago. It suddenly hit him that all the people he had met and all of the scenes he had been privy to, in some strangely mechanical way were all beautiful.

Billy recalled his times as a DJ for WXYC. He was hired in Fall 2010, and had enjoyed it on multiple levels. When asked why being a DJ was so appealing to him, his response was, “It feels great to be in the control room and to assert your reign of music, imposing your will on the unsuspecting masses.” In the cave, the dominating bear was inching closer. Was I doing this for the wrong reasons?

Through his ambition, he became the business manager of XYC, managing the budget and pocketing a few bucks on the side to feed his concert, electronics, and effects pedal addictions. These toys and these experience seemed to make his now rapidly shortening life worth living.

He then reevaluated his love of and taste for music. No doubt, it was a great, fond foundation in his life, but why?
When asked what he looks for in music, he would have said, “I want to feel pain”
“No, take that back,” antelope Billy rejected. He could see now see through his misguided thoughts. “No, I look for integrity and sincerity and people who actually care and put some amount of life and emotion in their music.” Artists such as
Ben Frost, Jónsi, James Brown, William Basinski, Swans, Flipper and Diamanda Galas came to mind

Care, emotion, life…these seemed like ingredients to something, something greater than its parts, the force behind everything. Words came to him. Albert’s words. He too wanted to join the army with Martin Luther King, Jr. and Gandhi. He wanted to fight for love.

The ravenous bear was just a few inches away, and as he was cowering still, for some reason, the only song that came to mind was Barbara Streisand's Papa, Can You Hear Me?

Papa, can you hear me?

Papa, can you see me?

Papa can you find me in the night…?

And as the jaws of death were descending upon his limp frame, a revelation came to him. He exclaimed in his own antelope language,

“I DON'T hate everyone.”

The bear and the dubious night dissolved into a cold mist lifting itself towards a clear sky. Billy looked up and watched his fears fly aimlessly away. Then, he looked down. His two feet were were planted solidly on the floor of the Student Union. He had a show to do.

Catch Billy M. 5-7 PM every Saturday this semester.