KCMO
07-31-2007, 11:34 AM
If your eardrums rupture just from thinking about deejay music, or you trip whenever a strobe lights your way, maybe you're ready for something different — a quiet deejay. Ron Collett, a.k.a. DJ Ronnie C, may be just the ticket for your evening of fun.
Ron, who admits to membership in the 'Classic Rock' generation, slips into his deejay persona a couple of times a month. The rest of the time two day jobs keep him hopping. He's an armed security guard and owns his own small lawn service.
The combination would seem a bit strange but for the fact that he is a musician with 30 years experience. Like so many teenage boys then and now, he picked up a guitar. Back then, a rhythm guitar kept the chords moving to the beat in every rock song. With musician friends, the next obvious step was a band.
He jokes that his playing wasn't that well received by his fellow musicians. They told him it would sound better if he would 'turn it over and play the other side!' Not to be discouraged, he worked and got to be pretty good.
He didn't read music. The band practiced by listening to the latest records, those big, flat, shiny black disks. Each player isolated his part. When they got to sounding pretty solid, they'd turn off the record.
The truth was in the playing, and they were good enough to play local teen clubs. They had singers, but Ron wasn't one of them. He tried his vocal chords at singing. His bandmates turned off his mic.
A stint in the military took him off the bandstand. When he returned, rhythm guitar was passé. His fellow musicians wanted a keyboard player. He transposed his guitar chords to the keyboards. He even got a chance to sing. Seems his voice, like fine wine, improved with age. While he admits that he doesn't have one of those beautiful lead voices, he can belt out a 'bop sha bop.'
He organized bands. Some had girl singers. One had a singing drummer. Ron played, and sang, and he did the grunt work. He got the jobs, organized practices, and got the song together so the band could perform. As he aged, his bands aged, too. One band, 'Déjà Vu' became fairly well-known for its repertoire of oldies.
So, for 30 years, Ron played and watched the crowds enjoy the music. He learned a few things about how people enjoy music. When he left his band behind, he traded in his keyboards for a CD player, Now he's got big speakers, power amplifiers, stands, and a wireless mic, and he is DJ Ronnie C. He caters to a more mature crowd so he doesn't have any fancy lights.
Friday and Saturday nights find him at area Moose lodges and Legion halls. His audience appreciates music from the 1940s through the 1970s. As Ron explains it, 'Twenty-year- olds wouldn't want to listen to him,' but the dancers who grew up with The Twist enjoy it all.' Ron doesn't engage in a lot of patter and he didn't go to deejay school, but he does his best to encourage everyone to dance. The good ol' Ladies' Choice is a great way to get folks out on the floor. The ladies get the men dancing to a nice slow tune. As soon as it over, Ron does a change up to something with a beat.
When the crowd calls for it, he goes back to big band music. Glen Miller tunes, 'String of Pearls,' and the 'Tennessee Waltz' are perennial hits. Ron takes requests. By far the most popular dance request is the 'Electric Slide.' When they're done with the 'boogie, woogie, woogie,' of the Slide, the dancers are ready to Twist again.
Ron can provide atmosphere, too, not just dance music. He does local car club shows. Groups like the Annapolis Corvette Club bring out 100 cars for a show; everything from $100,000 fully restored Corvettes from the 1960s to classic pickups.
He's worked with Lost in the Fifties Car Club, too. The big hit at their shows is always the 1957 Chevy — sedan, hardtop, or convertible. Ron's job is the same at both clubs. He plays the music that brings the cars to life and makes announcements for activities. He lets organizers use his equipment, too, and may find himself sitting for an hour or so as officials award the much-coveted trophies.
Ron admires the efforts of these classic car diehards. They come together for the love of their vehicles and open their shows for free to the public. The money they raise from raffles and other activities all goes to charities.
Ron admits to missing the camaraderie and cutting-up of his band days, but he has fun. He says he'll 'keep on keepin' on' as long as his audiences keep asking for him. He doesn't see himself doing weddings – unless a mature couple is renewing their vows. He'll go with the music he loves and the people who appreciate it.
If you think you're part of that crowd and need a deejay, you can get in touch with DJ Ronnie C by e-mail: collettronald@verizon.net.
By ELAINE NAGEY, For The Capital (http://www2.hometownannapolis.com/cgi-bin/read/2007/07_27-56/CCV)
Ron, who admits to membership in the 'Classic Rock' generation, slips into his deejay persona a couple of times a month. The rest of the time two day jobs keep him hopping. He's an armed security guard and owns his own small lawn service.
The combination would seem a bit strange but for the fact that he is a musician with 30 years experience. Like so many teenage boys then and now, he picked up a guitar. Back then, a rhythm guitar kept the chords moving to the beat in every rock song. With musician friends, the next obvious step was a band.
He jokes that his playing wasn't that well received by his fellow musicians. They told him it would sound better if he would 'turn it over and play the other side!' Not to be discouraged, he worked and got to be pretty good.
He didn't read music. The band practiced by listening to the latest records, those big, flat, shiny black disks. Each player isolated his part. When they got to sounding pretty solid, they'd turn off the record.
The truth was in the playing, and they were good enough to play local teen clubs. They had singers, but Ron wasn't one of them. He tried his vocal chords at singing. His bandmates turned off his mic.
A stint in the military took him off the bandstand. When he returned, rhythm guitar was passé. His fellow musicians wanted a keyboard player. He transposed his guitar chords to the keyboards. He even got a chance to sing. Seems his voice, like fine wine, improved with age. While he admits that he doesn't have one of those beautiful lead voices, he can belt out a 'bop sha bop.'
He organized bands. Some had girl singers. One had a singing drummer. Ron played, and sang, and he did the grunt work. He got the jobs, organized practices, and got the song together so the band could perform. As he aged, his bands aged, too. One band, 'Déjà Vu' became fairly well-known for its repertoire of oldies.
So, for 30 years, Ron played and watched the crowds enjoy the music. He learned a few things about how people enjoy music. When he left his band behind, he traded in his keyboards for a CD player, Now he's got big speakers, power amplifiers, stands, and a wireless mic, and he is DJ Ronnie C. He caters to a more mature crowd so he doesn't have any fancy lights.
Friday and Saturday nights find him at area Moose lodges and Legion halls. His audience appreciates music from the 1940s through the 1970s. As Ron explains it, 'Twenty-year- olds wouldn't want to listen to him,' but the dancers who grew up with The Twist enjoy it all.' Ron doesn't engage in a lot of patter and he didn't go to deejay school, but he does his best to encourage everyone to dance. The good ol' Ladies' Choice is a great way to get folks out on the floor. The ladies get the men dancing to a nice slow tune. As soon as it over, Ron does a change up to something with a beat.
When the crowd calls for it, he goes back to big band music. Glen Miller tunes, 'String of Pearls,' and the 'Tennessee Waltz' are perennial hits. Ron takes requests. By far the most popular dance request is the 'Electric Slide.' When they're done with the 'boogie, woogie, woogie,' of the Slide, the dancers are ready to Twist again.
Ron can provide atmosphere, too, not just dance music. He does local car club shows. Groups like the Annapolis Corvette Club bring out 100 cars for a show; everything from $100,000 fully restored Corvettes from the 1960s to classic pickups.
He's worked with Lost in the Fifties Car Club, too. The big hit at their shows is always the 1957 Chevy — sedan, hardtop, or convertible. Ron's job is the same at both clubs. He plays the music that brings the cars to life and makes announcements for activities. He lets organizers use his equipment, too, and may find himself sitting for an hour or so as officials award the much-coveted trophies.
Ron admires the efforts of these classic car diehards. They come together for the love of their vehicles and open their shows for free to the public. The money they raise from raffles and other activities all goes to charities.
Ron admits to missing the camaraderie and cutting-up of his band days, but he has fun. He says he'll 'keep on keepin' on' as long as his audiences keep asking for him. He doesn't see himself doing weddings – unless a mature couple is renewing their vows. He'll go with the music he loves and the people who appreciate it.
If you think you're part of that crowd and need a deejay, you can get in touch with DJ Ronnie C by e-mail: collettronald@verizon.net.
By ELAINE NAGEY, For The Capital (http://www2.hometownannapolis.com/cgi-bin/read/2007/07_27-56/CCV)