I’m Mr. DJ Tommie Sunshine & You’re Not

Posted on March 1st, by Tommie Sunshine in 21. 6 comments

Where to begin?  If you don’t know who I am, you will soon enough.  If you do, then howdy.  Hope you’ve been as great as I have!  So Matt has given me a monthly spot from now on to let you into the world of SUNSHINE.  What that all entails, you will soon find out.  Let’s get ready to rumble!

First of all, I would like to talk to you about how fabulous it is to be a traveling DJ.  I love airports.  The people you meet in an airport bar are the most wonderful/frightening people in the entire human race.  What’s really scary is after talking to them for half an hour you find out you’re exactly like them.  Airport newsstands are great because after you can’t waste any more time in the bar, you can view “girl-on-girl action” in the newest issue of Hustler (a hearty hello to the big man, Larry Flynt).  Then there is the plane ride itself.  Being 6’4″, I dread the minute that the subhuman in front of me reclines their seat and crushes my tray table into my knees.  But then there’s always the hot stewardesses and the occasional buxom coed returning from a weekend visit home to mom and dad to take away the pain.

Another thing I really enjoy about this career choice is the questionable hotels I’ve stayed at in recent memory.  My particular favorite was the room I stayed in during my visit to St. Louis for ‘Lovelife’ -the Superstars Of Love 5th Anniversary (of which I will tell you more about later).  As Felix Da Housecat and I entered the hotel, we were greeted by a maniacal desk clerk.  When asked if he was going to attend the party later that evening, he replied (and I quote), “I don’t like any type of superstar bullshit.  All I really like is chicks, guns, and making things explode.  I have built a couple of my own bombs.  Would you like see them?”  Now we all know that St. Louis is fucked up to begin with, but this guy wins a fuckin’ Oscar.

We got the keys to our rooms and traveled down the hallway only to find a teenage hotel party raging full-on.  If I am not mistaken, the new Korn CD was blaring from a boombox and the stench of Old Milwaukee, wine coolers, and CKOne hit me like a noxious cloud.  Who needs cloning when we’ve got The Gap?  I swear to God all of these kids looked exactly the same.  But then again, so do all the ravers.  So it really doesn’t make a difference.  Anyway…

I entered my room to find the sink in the actual room and the bathroom was behind a closing door.  Then I looked down and saw a nice mosaic of cigarette burns throughout the carpeting.  I was praying I wouldn’t find a dead hooker under the bed.  Thank God I did not.  All of this was pushed aside when I found the Shawn Mullins video for ‘Rock-a-Bye’ on VH1.  This video, of course, stars Dominique Swain, the fresh flower from the movie Lolita.  At that point, you could have put cigarettes out on my forehead and my night would have been just fine.

Off to the party!

Felix kicked some St. Louis ass and my set seemed to blow everybody’s mind.  I began my electro journey with ‘Highway to Hell’ by ACDC (hey Kurt), dragged everybody through an hour and a half of 80’s drenched traxx, and wrapped it up with ‘Whole Lotta Love’ by Led Zeppelin.  (You really wanna know if somebody is worth talking to? Ask them if they like Zeppelin. If they say no, walk away.)  Only in St. Louis could I get away with such malarkey.  If I did that at some kid’s party in Alabama, him and his friends would probably kick my ass and I would ruin the night.  St. Louis, as expected, embraced it with open arms.

Tommie Sunshine, Richie Hawtin and L.A. Williams [WMC 1998]

Matt asked me to talk about the “Good Old Days.”  I assume he meant the beginning of rave circa ’92, but I’ll save that for next issue.  I would rather talk about the REAL “Good Old Days.”  Here are my top 10 moments (in no particular order):

1 Playing with the plants to 70’s AM radio (someone left the cake out in the rain…)

2 Going to see “Close Encounters of the Third Kind” in the theatre with my aunt Ro (I still love mashed potatoes).

3 Performing ‘Rocket Queen’ and ‘Welcome to the Jungle’ in my Senior-year air band (I was Duff.).

4 Taking LSD on Christmas Eve and driving out to the middle of a cornfield, watching the sun rise while sitting on the hood of a car, and peaking with the Vienna Boy’s Choir singing the Hallelujah Chorus blasting out of the stereo. (I’m still having, wait, oh yeah, flashbacks…)

5 Getting caught shoplifting Gummi worms from a major grocery store I’d rather not name (my Polaroid probably still hangs on the suspect wall).

6 Smoking a joint with Lenny Kravitz while talking about John Lennon at the Cabaret Metro 6 months before “Let Love Rule” came out. (really.)

7 While in the only fist fight I’ve ever been in in my life, I couldn’t stop humming Survivor’s ‘Eye of the Tiger.’ (It’s the eye of the tiger, It’s the thrill of the fight!)

8 After working all weekend at the opening of a Subway store (where I worked in the Spring of ’87) I took a giant hit off a helium balloon, passed out, hit my chin on a steel table, and was rushed to the emergency room.  (Shelly, you can relate.)

9 During a legendary day of first grade, right before lunch, my one friend peed her pants.  And after lunch, my other friend puked all over the kid in front of him.  This was probably the best day of my life.  I’m still laughing. (That’s right, pissed all over her dress and her tights!)

10 Sitting in my room listening to Foreigner’s ‘I Wanna Know What Love Is’ and sobbing uncontrollably about a girl I could never have.  This was 8th grade (I was such a jerk).

Now that’s what I call “Good Old Days.”

Before I go, I would like to give you a quick synopsis of the Hallucination Before Christmas- Rabbit in the Moon’s annual Christmas party held in Tampa, FL.  As always, I dressed up as one of the misfit pimp Santas (Bunny of RITM was the other) and wreaked havoc on all that is female in Tampa.  After getting totally shitfaced, it was time to give away the “gifts.”  I sat on a throne with two scantily-clad teen Santa’s helpers and before giving any girl a “gift,” she had to give Santa a “gift.”  I would not give anything to any girl without getting at least a kiss with tongue.  I received many “gifts” that night, all of which I will leave to your imagination.  And know, in case you were wondering, it does not and did not hurt when I pee.  While this went on, there was a girl dancing topless to my right most of the time.  When Monk took the tables, he played a set of shit-kickin’ ghetto booty filth that prompted no less than a half a dozen girls to totally strip naked on the stage in front of him.  That, my friends, is a motherfucking party.  You wish you were there, trust me.

I am going to get back to my dreadfully boring life and I’ll let you get back to yours.  Please direct all that you’ve felt while reading this to me in care of Massive.  Not like I care what you think, but if you feel so inclined, knock yourself out.  ‘Til next time. (Dawson’s Creek is on, so I gotta jet.)

All of my love, All of my love, All of my love to you.