Mark Ronson

So I just, I started to play records again and been playing out in clubs in Brooklyn and downtown.

And

it really has been this joyous restart of my love for DJing.

So I'm very grateful to it in some ways, but in other ways, like, yeah, carrying those records around is insane.

Going down into a basement and coming back up.

And like, I used to, I hope this is okay.

Like I used to be leaving the club and like dialing the dealer on the way out of the club.

And now I'm making an appointment with my acupuncturist online as I'm leaving the club because my back is just so jacked.

But, um, I, it,

It's been incredible playing vinyl again, actually.

I didn't realize how much I had missed that process.

Absolutely.

One night, around 1 a.m., I dropped a new cut called Deja Vu Uptown Baby.

Only a few weeks old, its hometown pride refrain had already taken over every club and radio station in NYC.

When the chorus hit, as the crowd chanted, "'Uptown, baby, uptown, baby, we gets down, baby,' loud enough to be heard five blocks away, I ducked the volume and dropped the instrumental to Busta Rhymes' Put Your Hands Where My Eyes Could See on beat under their voices, remixing the room itself."

There was a half-second delay as their brains processed what just happened, and then they ignited like an energy rocket from floor to ceiling.

For eight bars, it felt like we'd all leapt into another dimension.

It's such a visceral memory of all the times because there are thousands of times that I would do that.

You would drop the volume so the whole crowd is chanting, uptown, baby, uptown, baby.

And as they're chanting, that's all they're thinking about.