Gregarious Tawdry Cline AKA Disc Jockey Gregarious has no logical sense of time. He’s stuck in the 80’s when music was at it’s best. But because so many enduring components of 80’s glam, new wave, electronic, and rock are making a resurgence today, realistically, he doesn’t stand a chance of putting any of his pivotal, life-shaping moments in an accurate, chronological order.
Unless we use ex-girlfriends to judge time… “I have a three to five-year minimum for relationships, so I started DJing about three girlfriends ago.” Or 15 years, maybe.
First things first though. “How the hell’d you get the name Gregarious?”
“I’m going to tell you the truth,” Gregarious states openly. He was writing for a Cali magazine and constantly trying to find the perfect pen name, changing from one “pretentious” moniker to another “pompous” alter ego on a weekly basis.
“I had an affinity for absurd names.” There was Tiberius and Thelonious. “Maybe I was trying to create my own identity, I don’t know.” When bam! “I’ll just change my name from Gregory to Gregarious.”
He made a $100 bet with his editor that he’d get his name published in the newspaper as Gregarious, which he did, and voilà, he found his nome de plume.
“What about Tawdry?” I queried. That’s another Gregarious production. “And Cline?”
Nope! That one’s real, but “probably only because it was the same as Pasty Cline,” he cracks.
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Listen to Disc Jockey Gregarious on his “Mind Your Own Business Alala [OMN Mix]“ made yesterday especially for YOU!!!
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“I am the antithesis to a DJ.” Disc Jockey Gregarious is not a turntablist–people need to know this. The Disc Jockey is important. “I started as a glorified jukebox, not even segueing between tracks.” So don’t show up expecting stupefying scratching or insane beat juggling. “I coulda told you that.”
After growing up in the North Bay area of California and living in LA, life down south gave Gregarious a distaste for culture and “sucked my life out of music.” He moved to Ashland and then Portland (oh, about four girlfriends ago), moving in above the Monte Carlo discotheque on Belmont.
“I heard that DJ’s set every night and it kinda pissed me off. He played ‘Stayin’ Alive’ five times a night. I was like, ‘There are other Bee Gees songs!’ If this guy can get away with it, then I probably can get away with it,” mused Gregarious about becoming a DJ.
The fates smirked and a DJ quit the bar his friend tended. So Gregarious blurted out, “Imma DJ!” When questioned why he’d never mentioned it before, he shrugged it off and strutted off to convince the bar to let him fill the night. It worked!
“What’s a real DJ do?” Gregarious asked himself as he walked into a record store intent on buying the cheapest gear possible. Then the fates beamed. DJ Mel, who’d quit the bar, was at the same store and told him not to waste his money. “She told me I needed to buy the Technics 1200’s,” which were way beyond his budget. They were the top of the line but he’s always thanked her for influencing his decision. “I still use them at home.”
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Gregarious was always a record collector, but now he was due to show up at The East Ave Tavern on Burnside to spin on St. Patrick’s Day. The owner called and said, “I want you to play all Pogues.”
“But I don’t have all The Pogues’ albums,” responded Gregarious.
“I’ll bring them all for you to play.”
Gregarious showed up with his mixer and turntables while the owner brought a stack of CDs. “This was probably the birth of my style.” All he had to do was sit back and hit shuffle all night long. “It can only go up from here,” thought Gregarious, “…or downhill?”
His gig became theme nights: glam, disco, new wave. But after a few months the bar went out of business so “my DJ career kinda got off to a false start because I sat around on my gear for two years” making mixes and “shoving them down friends’ throats.” Until one of his mixes reached the Bar of the Gods where the BOG owner didn’t know whether to hug or punch Gregarious for his awkward, abusive musical pairings.
Again with charm and grace, Gregarious convinced BOG to give him Wednesday night, and he watched the people grow from ten regulars to a crowd. He knew they were onto something because no one else was DJing bars around town. And bars were the best!
There’s a soundtrack to life. Natural and mechanical, ambient and musical. Gregarious’ job was to build the “soundtrack to the bar.” He’d scoured record collections at everyone’s house. “It was comforting to see what everyone liked.”
“I would play everyone’s record collection,” from T. Rex to Depeche Mode to New York Dolls. Gregarious–the “interactive radio”–played off the crowd, “used music elevate the emotional level” in a place, and of course, joked for his own amusement. “If a guy walked in wearing red shoes, I’d play Elvis Costello’s ‘(The Angels Wanna Wear My) Red Shoes.’”
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And here’s a mix that’s long enough to score the DJ time for a bathroom run… more on that later. Disc Jockey Gregarious with “Knock On Wood Retro Career Christian Says [OMN Mix].”
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Today Disc Jockey Gregarious is a party-starter, dance-maker, booty-shaker jockeying every Friday night at The Fez Ballroom’s Shut Up & Dance.
It seems like a lot of DJs scorn requests… but you take ‘em in stride.
You’re playing to that crowd. My thesis is that this soundtrack is people based. I don’t know what real DJs artistic motivations are but my motivation is to intertwine with the crowd. Requests are half lazy. You have to judge whether it’s a good idea or a bad idea, but when someone follows your musical train of thought, requests are great! It’s all about timing. You can’t feel obligated to play everything. I almost hired someone to go through the request list at the end of the night and black marker out all the nasty comments.
What are we listening to when we listen to Disc Jockey Gregarious?
Shut Up & Dance is one of the last vestiges where disposable culture doesn’t reign supreme. If something is good, it’s absorbed into my lexicon–like rings on a tree. The old rings are still there but the new ones grow around them. Or here’s another metaphor–a snowball going downhill picks up some pine needles to give it a nice pine-y scent, but it also rolls through the lodge and picks up some garbage as well.
Most of it [the music] is 80’s but new bands sound so 80’s. There’s 60’s, 70’s, 90’s, 00’s, 10’s… I see how absurdly I can put together two songs but make it seem logical.
I like to think of it as a “mainstream” night, but not in the traditional sense. It’s mainstream for the artists and the intelligent people who are amazed at the ugly reality TV mentality that seems to drive a sect of our population. Why can’t forward thinkers have their own mainstream? A common denominator for commonsense.
Okay, what bands?
New Order–they make my job easy–Depeche Mode, The Smiths, David Bowie, MGMT, and Goldfrapp.
But what are you listening to?
The Kinks, The Bee Gees, Elvis Costello, David Bowie, Cut Copy, Bloc Party, Jarvis Cocker, Pulp, Chromeo.
Four words about digital (Serato, Traktor, mp3s) vs. physical (turntables, vinyl).
Ascetics, warmth, tactile, iconic (just for vinyl).
Okay, you can elaborate if you’d like.
Vinyl pushes me in a different direction. Going through a crate, seeing the covers, feeling the vinyl, it creates a connection to music in life versus digital music–viewing every band listed in Helvetica font in a playlist. Records become iconic in life, something you pass on or would give as a heartfelt gift. You do not establish memories with digital files… or with 8-tracks either. Just vinyl.
But I like digital on a dance night. I can have more fun with digital and it helped me become a better dance club DJ. It reinvigorated my love for DJing because I had to learn a whole new medium. Plus it eliminates misfiled vinyls because I drink while DJing. You want to play Prince but T. Rex is in that sleeve so you have to mentally backtrack through your last gig’s playlist. There are less moments of panic. Still moments of panic, just less. And less labor. Less to carry. I used to buy Jeeps and SUVs to carry my coffin of records and now I can just hop on my scooter. [Waves hand.] Ciao!
Three words that describe Disc Jockey Gregarious.
Punctual, legible, nappy.
Two words about Portland.
Endearing, entitled.
One word about pizza toppings.
Crucial.
Do you still buy records?
Yeah!
What was the last one?
Last one was a gift but it was a Honeybus 7 inch, “I Can’t Let Maggie Go.”
Favorite place to buy records?
Smut. Hard not to buy records there.
Most fun gig you’ve DJ’d?
I opened for Sir-Mix-A-Lot at the Roseland. I thought it was a setup, they were trying to bring me down, make a fool of me. The most Anglo, non-turntablist DJ. It was a zany juxtaposition and the crowd just stared at me like I was from outer space until they started singing along to Journey and Black Sabbath.
Worst gig you’ve DJ’d?
Comic-Con ‘08 in San Diego. It was the worst because it was supposed to be the best. The crowd was a mix of Stan Lee, the cast of Heroes, some celebrities, and the rest were people too dumb to get on VH1 realities. They requested “hip-hop” while I was playing Kanye West. When asked what they’d like to hear, I got “hip-hop.” “Can you give me an artist?” “You know, hip-hop!” “Like Kanye West?” “Yeah!” “This is Kanye West.” They were requesting songs while I was playing them.
Where can we find you?
Shut Up & Dance every Friday at The Fez Ballroom.
I’m reclaiming my 80’s status with Back to the Future every third Saturday at Berbati’s. And every second and fourth Saturday I’m at Gold Dust Meridian playing whatever the wind blows.
Who came up with the name Shut Up & Dance?
Pearl Harbor & The Explosions have a song called “Shut Up and Dance,” outta desperation it stuck.
Is this life easy-peasy?
Being a DJ is easy. Everyone adores you for playing Madonna. Even though Madonna did the work, I’ll take the credit.
What about going to the bathroom?
Originally I’d have to play a long track and run to the bathroom until Jimi (Biron, talent buyer for the Crystal Ballroom) told me about the drummer for Modest Mouse. He had a jar onstage. It’s a physical versus psychological battle. I’ll have my long mix prepared but something will always come up. I drink a big Campbell’s tomato juice jar every week… it’s big and I fill it up. But it’s my 2010 resolution: No more peeing in my jar!
In over two decades of hard living and hard luck, New Orleans’ 
Jack Ruby Presents
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