"Hmmm, I wonder if LCD Soundsystem are on yet? Bugger. I hope Arcade Fire sucked. Bloody Canadians ... hang on, what the hell is that racket? Feedback?"
A quick glance at the mixer, looks fine, then a moment to tune back into what's playing: "Dancing Queen ... young and sweet ... only 17 ... " "Urgh, sounds OK. Hmm, there it is again, only louder and screechier ... "
A quick look to my right and ... it's a woman shrieking at me. The effort is making her face distort and encourages a slosh of wine to make an untidy escape before the words come into focus: "Simply the Best ... Simply the Best."
Christchurch, Tina bloody Turner. Heaps of people I know are probably leaping around to LCD's All My Friends at this very moment, about five hours and umpteen hicktowns northish. But here I am wading through me box looking for the Tina bloody Turner record I'd had to buy all special like. It cost 15 bucks. And I might add that caterwauling track is actually called The Best.
Oh never mind, weddings are spiritual occasions, a time for familial bonding, romance even, and the punters do seem to be enjoying themselves. Well, apart from one, pissed-off bloke who wobbled up, went to say something, then decided a dismissive swat would do before swinging around and wobbling away again. But that's wedding DJing for you, you can't please everyone all the time. Still, the couple are really cool people, so you gotta knuckle down and do what you gotta do as best you can. But there was no ignoring that quiet pang. Maybe the Big Top had been hit by lightning and I didn't miss a thing?
