Another futile attempt.

I've always been a little wary of anywhere with "Ultralounge" in the name. It's like it's waving a flag for those who're trying too hard that this is their spot. Apparently I'm wrong, but when I try to imagine lounging in an "ultra" fashion, my mental image is that of me passed out, and passed out HARD. Why does the idea of the lounge need to be taken to another level?

I got a call a couple of months ago from Gabe Driscoll, a fellow DJ here in town. He had been approached by one of the newer venues to do an electronic music-dedicated night on Thursdays and he wanted to bring me on board. When the venue had first opened, I had made a few inquiries about what kind of music they'd be going for, seeing if I might be a good fit. Based on the stylings of the place and the location in town, I had a feeling that they'd end up being just another place trying to be the newest Vegas or L.A-styled hot spot, with all the usual suspects in attendance. But I figured that maybe a weeknight might be conducive to some good house music or downtempo, so when Gabe called me, I was all in.

I'm well aware that the music that I play isn't by any means mainstream here in the States. I am fully comfortable knowing that there are many that would rather here the latest Rhianna, Jay-Z, or Soulja Boy. And though this is by no means the type of music I will ever play, I don't necessarily begrudge those who play it or those who want to hear it. Sure, I may down in my core feel that it's all a bit unimaginative, and that most who listen to it do so because that's all they've been spoon-fed. But I'm fully conscious that music is a wholly subjective experience, and there really is no right or wrong.

Simply put, Couture Ultralounge is that kind of venue.

I knew it in my bones when I first started doing the night. I knew that though Gabe and I would pull a good number of those wanting to hear some great dance music, most of the regulars would be against it. It's unfamiliar, you see. The girls can't sing along to it. And when the girls are unhappy, everyone is unhappy.

But that's not the real issue. A part of me is a bit suspicious that the "hosts," the promoters, weren't too sure about me. I didn't necessarily fit into their vision. Gabe has had some time playing in some of the more mainstream clubs, whereas I've been content in the spaces that I know welcome the music I play. So I was an unknown to them. I haven't shown up on any "All-Club VIP" photo pages, with sunglasses on in a dark nightclub, holding a bottle of Cristal in one hand and a barely dressed, spray-tanned blonde in the other, while my shiny shirt reflects the flash of the camera. No, I've been too busy playing quality music to those who wanted nothing more than to get filthy sweaty from dancing, and weren't there to be a part of any "scene."

I lasted two weeks at Couture Ultralounge.

There were three of us: Gabe, myself, and ComputerFam (Huy Pham). Huy is a hell of a nice guy, and a talented, versatile DJ that can not only play some great house tunes, but can also lay down some mainstream tracks that'll get those spray-tanned blondes "dropping it like it's hot" (though I'm not too sure what "it" is...). Simply put, Huy is the perfect guy for Couture. The first week of our night saw Gabe and Huy behind the turntables because the promoters were unsure of just jumping head-first with a full-on electronic extravaganza with me and Gabe. So the promoters promoted and the DJs DJ'ed -- Gabe playing all electronic stuff and Huy meeting in the middle with some more mainstream sounds. The second week, Gabe, Huy, and I were all on board, with a fair dance floor and some positive feed-back. The third week was just Gabe and I, with things a little less busy and not too many tails on the floor. Here's where the trouble starts. And ends.

The first week that I was officially a part of the night was First Thursday (the first Thursday of the month) in Portland -- a night where all the art galleries open up, venues host events, and everyone is out and about on the town. It's a great night for any bar or club in the area because the foot traffic is so thick. So we had a decent little crowd in Couture, despite the fact that the promoters were hosting another event in a different venue. Yup, that's right, you got it: The guys that the club pay to promote their night were throwing a different event just seven blocks away.

The second night I was involved, the night that was just Gabe and I behind the decks, the promoters did... nothing. Typically, all week long, before Thursday rolls around, my social networks are clogged with posts from these guys about Thursday night, house music, DJs, etc. That week? Nothing. Nada. Not a peep. I wondered if they'd been in the same car that had been involved in a wreck that had them both hospitalized. The online event invite had only five invitees: myself, Gabe, Huy, the club owner, and one other.

Aren't the promoters supposed to, well... promote? Did I get this wrong? I mean, sure, I may not speak English all good, but I thought I had a grasp of the meaning of this word.

Let's see what dictionary.com has to say.

"to help to encourage to exist or flourish"

"to aid in organizing"

"to contribute to the progress and growth of"

etc, etc.

Damn, I guess I'm not entirely illiterate then!

Oddly, the very next week saw just Gabe and Huy on the tables. And what were the promoters doing? Well, just what dictionary.com says that they should have been doing, in fact. Hallelujah! I thought that maybe the previous two weeks had been a fluke and that we were over it, ready to move on, to make the night grow, and to get some spray-tanned blondes liking some good electronic music.

Then Gabe calls me today with the news. The owner can't help but notice how, when it was just Gabe and I, the night was slower. He thinks that maybe I'm not the best fit, that perhaps I and my music were to blame. The promoters? They agree -- of course they agree! The night they were supposed to be promoting was slow because they weren't promoting, doing their job, what they've been paid to do. I'd been thrown under the bus, either in a pre-meditated fashion, or just as an afterthought after they'd realized that, holy smokes!, if you don't promote, nobody shows.

To be honest, the old man in me isn't terribly disappointed. I never was too sure about forcing myself to work on 3 1/2 hours of sleep once a week, and I wasn't ever fully convinced that the clientele would be accepting, or even embracing of that type of music. I was never fully sold on the idea, but saw absolutely no reason not to give it a shot. Because if it had worked, if the Couture regulars had wow'ed me with their insatiable desire for some forward-thinking tunes, I'd have stayed up that late, worked on that little sleep, and gladly have DJed for free. As it is, I prefer to walk away from the situation and the money (not that there was a lot of it), and enjoy a relaxed Thursday evening at home or with friends.

And I should submit that the owners and staff are perfectly nice people, though perhaps they may not have the best judgment. And the venue itself is a beautiful one which will likely do well, if they can ever decide what they actually want to do with it. Regardless, it seems we're not meant for each other. And that's ok.

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Update:

With the knowledge that I'm sometimes an idiot and make my own mistakes (hard to believe, I know), I just had a conversation with one of the promoters, caught his side of things, and now have a better understanding of the circumstances they are dealing with. However, despite my desire to be transparent, it was requested that I leave things here as they are so as to avoid any other misunderstandings.

What I get from all this? Affirmation that when I play the music that I love, I always want it to be somewhere that fits that sound. As I said earlier, there's no "right" or "wrong" music to be played, but there is the right and wrong places to play it.