In the beginning, there was Jimmy Savile and his "record dance" in an upstairs room in a house in Leeds in the 1940s. Sir Jimmy's recollections of hosting what may well have been the world's first-ever disco are vivid and colourful, from the improvised equipment (a wind-up gramophone wired to a valve radio) to the dozen people who attended and paid a shilling each for the privilege. Thanks to Savile and those who came after him, a night out would never be the same again.
This account of the latter-day flamboyant fund-raiser who was once a DJ-ing pioneer is just one of many entertaining yarns in Dave Haslam's book. Haslam, who here charts the rise of the superstar DJ, who can command thousands of pounds for simply playing records in a club, has actually lived this story himself. An influential DJ with a one-time residency in Manchester's legendary Hacienda and appearances in other clubs worldwide under his belt, he has blended this experience and knowledge with a sizeable dollop of curiosity to produce a revealing read.
That club culture is now producing books of this calibre shouldn't come as a surprise. Since the House revolution of the late 1980s, dance music has evolved from being a wholly underground experience to one that is happily embraced and accepted by the mainstream. Such a transformation has brought many changes, and not just in the music.
Leading commercial brands now rush to be associated with events like Homelands and Creamfields, while the marketing of a club night is now akin to a precise science. The culture is becoming an industry. At the heart of it all, though, you still have the DJ, and Haslam's task is to explain how and why he (and it's usually a he) became so essential to the process.
What's particularly refreshing is that the author avoids succumbing completely to the passion for details and trivia usually found in music books. Instead of becoming bogged down in spats about who played what record at the Wigan Casino or the Paradise Garage, Haslam simply lets the protagonists talk. A good move, because their stories are well worth hearing, like that of Northern Soul DJ Soul Sam, who combined playing at all-night clubs with teaching history and English in Wrexham despite an aversion to technology and late nights.
Haslam's own reportage is keenly observed. A review of a Fatboy Slim appearance in Nottingham brings the claustrophobia and energy of that night onto the page, while his experience of travelling with popular German trance producer Paul Van Dyk captures a more sterile and professional DJ in action. In both cases, though, the mechanics remain the same: a DJ, two record decks and a few boxes of records make a crowded room go mental.
For Haslam, the superstar DJs have become part of dance music's permanent establishment, the really successful ones enjoying lucrative record labels and radio shows to boot. Yet, despite the fact that only a few can enjoy such rewards, the thrill of playing records and making people dance remains, as Haslam demonstrates when he DJs at the wedding of two old friends. Whatever about filling the floor at Cream or Ministry of Sound, keeping a room of teens and grannies entertained still gives the biggest buzz of all.
Jim Carroll is a freelance journalist