Jackmaster’s Hairy Evening in L.A.: A Night in the Life
When 28-year-old Scottish DJ Jackmaster was a kid, his older sister gave him a Daft Punk album that literally changed his life. He became obsessed with dance music, starting collecting mixtapes and began working at a record store in Glasgow. Jackmaster (born Jack Revill), went on to form a handful of labels and DJ around the globe. After playing Miami's Winter Music Conference, he toured the U.S. in May and offered to document a night in his life for RS Dance — a wacky evening in L.A. that involved a haircut, a fancy shave and the cops shutting down the party:
"A can of hair mousse exploded in my bag on the way to L.A, so here’s me washing all my other products in the sink. Yeah, I know my hair looks terrible in this picture, but we’ll get to that later."
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"I have this kind of superstition/tradition in that if I drink a beer in the shower in the lead-up to a show, then it will always end up being a good night," he tells us. "Unfortunately, starting on the booze that early in the evening usually means that you end up too steamin’ to remember whether it was a good one or not."
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"One of my oldest mates from Glasgow known as Rab (Scots slang for Robert) came to visit me in L.A. It was really great to see a friendly face, because as amazing as this job is, it still gets lonely on the road. I rewarded his presence with a wee fashion show featuring some vintage Scotland Football tops and tracksuits I procured on eBay over the last few months. This is a sexy wee number from ’84 I think."
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"This is me selecting a few tunes for the night ahead and wondering how the fuck I’m gonna keep up with Optimo for 5 hours. They are (easily) some of my favourite DJs on the planet. Another belting old Scotland top features prominently in the foreground. I say prominently, but let’s be honest, there’s probably been no instance in history where that piece wouldn’t absolutely steal the show. Although it was a really nice hotel, it looks like this one was taken in a prison cell. Looking back, I probably should have been locked up for crimes against fashion."
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"I was well chuffed with this view, only to find out that the Optimo guys had similar, but could see the fucking Hollywood sign from their rooms. This was me looking out some more music but what I really should have been doing was emailing my agent complaining about said lack of the fucking Hollywood sign."
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"United with Jonnie and Keith from Optimo for an Italian dinner. Always good banter with these lads. By the looks on their faces I am mostly definitely cracking a joke about another DJ."
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"The restaurant was brilliant but somewhat inconveniently it was BYOB… so we had to nip out and grab our own booze. I know absolutely nothing about wine but I’m pretty sure at the exact moment this was being taken I’m thinking 'this isn’t buckfast.'"
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"Evidently the lad was off duty that night. Check the fucking state of those shoes. They were brand new when I left Glasgow as well."
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"Now then. As I said earlier, I was perfectly aware that my hairdo was looking absolutely shite on the night, but as fate would have it — on our way to the club we passed a barber shop that was open till midnight. I was fucking ecstatic."
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"So we get into the barber’s at about 11:30 and pinch the last slot of the night. Inside they had this sick game which I guess was similar to an American version of curling. Curling is pretty much the only sport Scotland are any good at, so I was fucking great at this. I’m telling you. I was like a duck to water. I should have put some money down on the table ‘cause I was smashing everything and anyone daft enough to step up to the plate. On the right of the shot is the lesser spotted Rab, in all his glory, representing Glasgow in his Dixon Avenue Basement Jams T-shirt. Obviously he is losing but he's putting a brave face on it."
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"I dunno if I mentioned this before but I was amazing at that fucking game. This is a photo of me gloating. Anyone who knows me will testify that this is completely out of character."
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"Caught."
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"I dunno this guy’s name but he gave me an serious hairdo. And I don't say that lightly. It attracted the grand total of 0 girls on tour, but for his benefit we will put that down to all the stupidly patterned clothes I wear. Shortly after this was taken he called me a 'hairy mofo.' Which wasn't the best customer service I experienced on tour. I put this down to the fact that either he was a) really real; b) really rude or c) up-selling. We’ll get to that."
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"Aye… he was up-selling, and thus conned me into getting a wet shave as well as a cut. I say conned, but to be honest it was amazing. Better than a massage. Except he covered my eyes with a hot towel which meant I couldn’t read Rolling Stone magazine (Playboy)."
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"Not really, but so far not many people have noticed."
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"Just arrived at the party. This is me stealing tunes off of Jonnie from Optimo before I go on."
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"It got a bit rowdy at this stage and one of the speakers fell onto the whole DJ set up, fucking with the CD players. Jonnie helps sort shit out whilst I play some of his vinyl in the interim."
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"You’d think in the background here that Rab and Keith are laughing at my DJing skills… but what is actually going on is Keith has stolen the joke I told earlier over dinner and is passing it off as his own, masquerading as some kind of comedian and looking really proud of himself. Special shout out to the Burberry slip matt stealing the show from all three of us."
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"At around 4 a.m. the cops busted the party and threw everyone out of the warehouse, but it was still probably the best show either three of us had played in L.A. This is me ejecting the SD card that holds all of my music so the police don’t confiscate it."