Hometown: Paris, France
First recordings: 1994

Featured artists:
Dimitri from Paris -mixing, remixing, producing, being French

Related Artists:
Bah Samba, Mecca Headz, Astrojazz, Originals, La Pregunta, Stetsasonic, Salome da Bahia, Atmosfear, Cerrone, Sunburst Band, Terry Hunter, Pascal Rioux featuring Mr. Day, Black Masses, Ashford and Simpson, Björk, Brand New Heavies, Etienne Daho, Cassius, Air

Notes:
A deep admirer of classic disco and old-school dance genres, Dimitri began his training as a DJ by spinning his U.S. 12-inch imports at home and soon became one of the few pioneers of what would soon be called "bedroom culture." His first gig was for the European radio station CFM in 1985. In no time, Dimitri became both a producer and remixer, compiling a roster that would eventually include a diverse spectrum of acts ranging from New Order to James Brown. In 1994, he joined newly formed indie label Yellow Productions. Since then, Dimitri's body of work has included two EP's, a mini-LP, Esquisses and a number of contributions off Yellow compilations.

I wanted to love this album and I don't. I've been doing some soul-searching to figure out why; long walks on the beach and Zen meditation sitting and the like, and I've come up with an answer: because it's not what I wanted it to be. This is, of course, a horrible criticism for an album, but most critics base their judgment on this criteria and then use a lot of technical fancywords for why. I won't do the latter, because I don't know any fancy words. All I'm saying is that I wish this album would be more like what I wanted than what it is, and therefore don't like it as much as the one in my head.

In my head, A Night At The Playboy Mansion would be a let's-all-take-the-piss-out-of-Hugh-Hefner dance album, one that is fully aware that the idea of making a CD is ridiculous; it's backed by Playboy money, contains the Playboy name in its title, and uses a naked Afrobabe in a Playboy chair on the front cover to lure people in. In my head, this album would be a really eclectic, non-danceable, subversive sort of thing that acknowledged its own cheesiness from the beginning. But on CD, it's just a really really really well-done mix tape with dancy sorts of disco songs all over it.

Which is fine, if that's what you want. You could put this record on at a party and people would dance for 76 and a half minutes. You could put it on and get from Madison almost all the way to Milwaukee, and get a lot of thinking done on the way. Or you can just display the funky cover prominently on your stereo cabinet until someone comes up and calls you baby and drags you away to make out. These are all good and fine and noble choices for this CD, and godspeed to you.

But if you were hoping that this would be a lot like Dim's great CD Sacrebleu, well, I can't do nuttin for ya, man. That record was really more like a concept album, the concept being that being shallow can save your life better than depth. Plus, he created the tracks instead of just altering them. But here, all he does is alter and select and spin. Again, cool - if that's what you want.

At least Dimitri's choices are pretty dope. Anyone remember Cerrone? Well, he's back, but mixed in this time between Atmosfear and Sunburst Band. Ashford and Simpson resurface here, as do my old homeboys Stetsasonic, whose "Talking All That Jazz" is the highlight of the disc for me. (Jesse says some other DJ crew started spinning this first, but I don't know anything about that. I just like Stetsasonic.) And I'd be the last to say that mixing is easy. Hell, Dimitri should be made a Frenchman First Class just on the basis of his segues here, not to mention the clever edits, echoes, and other DJ effects he's throwing around like so many counterfeit francs. This is one deft record, people, and make no mistake.

But I didn't want deft, I wanted the whole enchilada: "real" songs, invented by a person, like Sacrebleu was. Apparently Dimitri's working on that even as I write this. But this will have to do in the meantime, and it's got a good beat and I can dance to it, so what the hell. C'est la guerre. But too much cotton candy can make you sick, you know...