So Paris Hilton, self-styled model, actress, singer, brand, business woman, fashion designer, author, philanthropist and er… empire, has been dabbling as a DJ for a couple of years. But now the clubbing cognoscenti are in uproar, because Ms H has just announced a stint as a resident at Ibiza’s famous Amnesia nightclub…
The purists are up in arms, citing Hilton’s arrival as the death of clubbing as we know it on the White Isle.
Frankly, the ravers need to get over themselves. Now I’m not going to pretend that Hilton is in the same league as Danny Tenaglia or Erick Morillo, but then neither is she. She’s a famous, pretty girl having a laugh behind some decks. She’s a bedroom mixer got lucky, and fair play to her.
Hilton made her DJ debut in Brazil, at the PopMusicFestival in Sao Paolo, back in 2012. The clue is in the name. This isn’t a dirty underground basement, somewhere downtown where the hipsters, hustlers and hookers can be found dancing in the wee small hours – this is the PopMusicFestival, and like it or not, Paris Hilton is very much a product of our pop culture obsessed time.
Okay, so there were occasional technical glitches, but I’d put money on the fact that most people just out for a good time and bit of a bop, couldn’t pick our Hilton’s mixing in a blind test with an off-the-shelf compilation CD.
At the time of her first gig, Mixmag and DeadMau5 ripped her apart, as you would expect. But watch a YouTube clip of it (it’s labelled something like Paris Hilton DJ Fail) and all you hear is a crowd going wild. They don’t give a toss who’s playing. It’s a famous person, in a sparkly corset, playing arms-in-the-air, poppers-o-clock, honest-to-goodness commercial dance. And that’s perfect for me. I can go down Shoreditch and dance to car alarms and ringtones and fricking Dubstep breaks to prove I’m cool any night of the week. But seeing a global celeb (like or not, that’s what she is folks) behind the decks is not something that’s gonna happen every day. Frankly, at Ibiza prices I want some star power where I can see it.
“Stars Are Blind” is a frothy slice of pop perfection. Paris is no Leona Lewis, but her eponymous 2006 album features some incredibly well-produced, by-the-numbers pop. But if her musical pedigree isn’t brilliant, neither was Peaches Geldof’s, and I’ve lost track of the number of parties I’ve been to where Bob’s gap-toothed progeny has posed with one headphone held to her ear as she rocks her ‘concentrating’ face.
Like it or not, Paris is heading to Ibiza, and she’s set her sights (for now) on a career in house music. She recently signed to Lil’ Wayne’s Cash Money record label and announced her second album would be full of house music. She’s also recently been a resident at the oh-so-fashionable Gotha nightclub in Cannes (darling), recently attended by P Diddy and Rihanna.
Of course she’s not the future of dance music, but she gets props for being one of the Americans not to be referring to the genre as ‘EDM.’ And those spoil sports that say she destroys Ibiza’s credibility, don’t seem to realise that the real party left Ibiza long ago, and that Croatia is where the really cool clubbers go…