Nightlife

"Nashville has a vibrant nightlife, with several famous bars, historic pubs, and lounges, but no nightclubs," Joel explained as he drove his Toyota Corolla.

They were driving along Music Row in Nashville. Neon signs glowed on both sides of the road, and the street was packed with people singing and drinking. Bars lined the entire stretch. It was said that Taylor had been discovered by Scott Borchetta, a former DreamWorks Records executive, at the Bluebird Cafe, a venue known for its lively live-music scene.

Perhaps it was precisely that lively live-music scene that made nightclubs unpopular in the area.

"Country music could be called 'adult contemporary.' It didn't have to be played in the countryside, but electronic music was only listened to by young people, and for now, it only belonged in nightclubs," Joel explained.

"That's why I said you should go to Florida or Los Angeles. They have famous DJs, huge nightclubs that can hold thousands of people, and the prettiest girls. But the true paradise of electronic music is always Ibiza. I dream of buying a mansion there," Joel said.

Everyone needed a dream. You never knew—it might come true.

Before long, they stopped at the entrance to an alley. The surroundings were a far cry from the bright, bustling bar district, and the entrance looked deserted. A few men stood smoking together nearby. They were dressed in fashionable clothes: baseball caps made by New Era, A Bathing Ape shark hoodies, and sneakers from lines like Dunk, AJ, and Old Skool.

From a long way off, Ryan took one look and immediately recognized the brands. The original owner, a male model, had been good at dressing himself and knew these trendy pieces well. He had once bought plenty of them, but Ryan wasn't interested in that sort of thing. He never gave much thought to how he dressed, caring only about comfort and ease.

"Vanderbilt University is nearby, so a lot of young people gather here every weekend," Joel said.

A line had already formed outside the nightclub. It wasn't that the place was especially popular; the security staff checked everyone's clothes.

Joel was practically an employee here. He led Ryan past the guards, but to his surprise, they stopped Ryan.

"Hey, big guy! He's my friend. He's performing with me tonight!" Joel said, pushing Ryan inside. That got them through.

"Face control. You know how that works, right? The guards let in the more attractive people at their discretion. If you're a beautiful woman, you can even skip the line and get in without paying. But, now that I mention it, your outfit really doesn't meet the dress code." Joel stared at the huge GAP logo on Ryan's chest.

They went down a sloping staircase into the basement. Huge graffiti covered the hallway walls, and two couples stood whispering in a corner.

As they passed through a doorway, the muffled sound suddenly became clear. Two mechanical-sounding voices, one male and one female, repeated, "Push me, touch me, till I get my satisfaction."

"This song is 'Satisfaction,' the debut single by Italian DJ Benny Benassi. The vocals were created using Apple's PlainTalk technology. It peaked at number two on the UK chart and was the first electronic music track of the new millennium to break into the mainstream. It's one of the regular tracks I picked for this club," Joel explained.

They finally entered the club's main hall. It was much smaller than Ryan had expected, L-shaped, with just five tables and a bar.

Farther in was a dance floor enclosed by iron railings, and at the very back stood a DJ booth.

It wasn't even nine yet. Only two tables were occupied, and the dance floor was practically empty.

"Joel, how much did you make last month? My pay's been going down for four months straight," the Black bartender behind the bar greeted him.

"That's because you're selling less and less liquor..." said the manager, hurrying past in a suit.

"I'm a bartender, not a liquor salesman." The Black bartender looked toward the table nearest the dance floor. Seven or eight pretty young women sat around it, wearing tight, one-piece dresses and strappy high heels. They had slender, curvy figures and were dressed to the nines.

"What makes a nightclub attractive isn't the decor or the drinks, and it has nothing to do with whether tonight's DJ is famous. It all comes down to how pretty the girls are," Joel whispered in Ryan's ear. "The prettier the women, the wealthier the men they attract. It's simple economics, but it always holds true."

"The manager, bartender, and security guards are indispensable at any nightclub. Then there are the promoters. They aren't employees; they partner with the club. They bring in girls and help people book tables. Some of those girls are just there to decorate the place, while others will drink with customers, sell drinks, and, of course, go home with them. The best promoters have circles full of top-level millionaires, and their contacts among beautiful women are just as impressive!" After greeting the bartender and the manager, Joel nodded to a mustachioed man among the women in the booth and introduced him as a promoter.

"As for the DJ, he's just a performer, not a necessity. You heard the manager complaining earlier, right? Business is tough these days, and two more nightclubs opened nearby this year. It's 8:45 p.m. Central Time, so we have fifteen minutes to get ready..."

Joel and Ryan had reached the DJ booth. Ryan saw an electronic device on the table—or, more precisely, two of them. Two horizontal turntables, like record players, sat side by side. Between them was a cluster of buttons and sliders, making the setup look like the control panel of some precision instrument.

"Pioneer DDJ-RX, made by one of the mainstream DJ equipment manufacturers," Joel said, turning the platters a couple of times. "These are called CDJs. They work like early record players. They aren't turntables, but jog wheels, used to adjust the tempo and line up the beats of two songs."

"The mixer's between the jog wheels. It controls what comes out of the players. For example, you can output only the high frequencies from song A and only the low and mid frequencies from song B, then blend the two tracks together for a seamless transition. That's the basic job of a DJ. Got it?" Joel asked Ryan.

Ryan shook his head.

Joel tossed him a pair of monitor headphones. "Watch for a while. You'll get it."

Over the next three hours, Joel created a continuous stream of music, from "Around the World (La La La La La)" by A Touch of Class to "Push the Feeling On" by Nightcrawlers, then to the disco classic "The Rhythm of the Night."

From "Kernkraft 400," a track frequently played in stadiums by Zombie Nation, to "HARDER, BETTER, FASTER, STRONGER," performed by Daft Punk with stunning visuals at Coachella Festival last year, to TIESTO's remix of classical music, "ADAGIO FOR STRINGS," and the electronic music classic among classics, "L'Amour Toujours."

Joel really was an electronic music enthusiast. Every track he played that night was a classic of electronic music.

Ryan also noticed something unusual: the musicians, production, distribution, and audience for all this electronic music were in Europe. It was as if the American pop-music scene existed in a parallel universe.

"That's right. America's a barren desert when it comes to electronic music. It's been that way ever since Disco Demolition Night thirty years ago..." Joel explained the awkward place electronic music occupied in America.