Book: Superstar DJs Here We Go. Glory, excess and burnt out dreams

In “What to Read” section, we explore books about electronic music. Today it’s Dom Phillips and his memories in Superstar DJs Here We Go!, which will give a cold shower to those who believe that sweetness and light reigned in the club culture of the 1990s. Maybe this volume is not as well-known as the memoirs of Garnier or the analysis of Reynolds, but in importance and value it stands on a par with these books.

Like many young Brits in their twenties, Dom Phillips enthusiastically listened to pirate stations of the late 1980s, and then, with great inspiration, described the rise of electronics in the United Kingdom, having noticed the audience’s awe at DJs and the desire to turn night parties into a way of life. Undoubtedly, when Dom became the editor of Mixmag at the age of 29, he contributed to inflating the egos of DJs, promoters, club owners and labels to astronomical proportions. Of course, along with the scene, the press also grew. When Phillips was the editor-in-chief, Mixmag went from modest sales prepared by several people in a tiny room to a huge diverse structure with a circulation of 100,000 copies.

Dom Phillips

Just like Simon Reynolds, who in his own publications called the big bang of the UK electronic music of the 1990s hardcore continuum, Dom Phillips called this whole movement of records, genres, DJs, clubs and labels the era of acid house, from which everything began, and this book contains the answer to why it all ended (In a nutshell: it was greed). Here we also have detailed stories about the rise of such clubs as Cream, Home, Ministry of Sound, and Gatecrasher and the rise of DJs: Fatboy Slim, Judge Jules, Pete Tong, John Digweed and Sasha—he is actually the main protagonist in the book, as he was an icon of progressive house in the 1990s and one of the most popular and expensive record players.

I would call Phillips’ book a prologue and an explanation of many things in the films Human Traffic (life from Friday to Friday in anticipation of parties, several places per night, coke plus paranoia), It’s all gone Pete Tong (Pete Tong told the film director the story of how house DJ Sasha went deaf in one ear and wasn’t allowed to DJ), as well as Kevin and Perry go large, where the phenomenon of super DJs and super clubs is ridiculed in a way that is understandable even to 15-year-olds.