When I was 18 my dream was to work part time in a Washington DC record store and DJ on the weekends. I’m 31 now, and thinking back to adolescent aspirations, their limited scope is almost laughable. What can I say, It was the 90’s. When people didn’t really just move to New York, and the Internet was only to visit the pre-flash websites of our heroes. The new century hit, and after a slow warm up our entire world started shifting. Things started changing so quickly and radically in fact, that sometimes even we culprits of momentum, would stop and be lost in a world of our own creation, dumbfounded by progress, society’s and our own. Friendster, Serato, the Hollerboard, little things at first, that suddenly had changed all our lives, almost without us noticing. Right before this explosion post 9-11 New York was laying foundation for the rest of the decade. Somehow I got my little brick of dreams onto the work site, and eventually mortared into the structure. Today I can claim moderate success on a national level. I made a few mistakes while earning this claim, more than a few actually, I’ve made a ton of fucking mistakes. More mistakes than anyone could ever hope to be successful after. For whatever reason, some inherent buoyancy, I’ve kept bobbing back up, kept banging away at turntables. And while technology made stars over night, I stayed inching consistently down my own path. Along the way I wrote a couple record reviews, told a few stories, and talked a lot of shit. A few people I really respect took notice and encouraged me to keep writing. Last year I stopped DJing in corny clubs to tried and produce music. Really put my money where my mouth was, broaden the scope of my career and become a real artist. Then, something funny happened, one day late in 2009 instead of trying to wrangle an E minor out of uncooperative hands I started typing. My midi keyboard is now collecting dust in a corner, and my desk is covered in papers and style manuals. I don’t know to what extent the universe plans on taking me back to music, for now I’m content to DJ occasionally and explore new passions in my free time. I didn’t end up the Grand Master Flash of the Serato era, but maybe I’m it’s Grand Master Flowers. I think I’ve left some type of mark and really that’s all anyone can hope to do. My dreams are different now, different even from a couple of years ago. It’s like I had my hand clenched around a rock, so tight, and for so long the possibility of it fitting around another object was beyond comprehension. The rock is still in sight, but I don’t force myself strangle it anymore. I’ve let go and am learning to use my hands again, in new ways. Because after this decade, I believe now more than ever, in an almost childlike way, that anything is possible.
Mad Decent has been almost reckless in promoting what they believe in. A simple philosophy: We like this so we’re putting it out. Even when the music was not to my liking their everything be damned this is what we do attitude has been inspiring. I was thrilled when these guys approached me to get involved with the new site, and didn’t take long for us to figure out an advice column was inevitable. Trust what I’ve said about fucking up, I’ve blown it, over and over again. I’ve done the dumbest shit, shit you would not even believe. I’ve tried to learn from all the blunders, even making the same mistakes more than a few times, really driving points home. I’ve been out here living it, fucking up, so you don’t have to. I know a ton about this DJ shit, a lot about getting by in the world, and a little about dreams coming true. I’ll do my best to be funny and obnoxious but not at the expense of actually doing some good. From ground wires to girl troubles, no family dysfunction too big, no bar gig too small, We will be here for you, and if I ruin your life you are the only one to blame, who would listen to Roctakon anyway.
Is your life a mess? Need advice? Tell Roctakon.
Email: HelpMe@Maddecent.com
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