Good Grief: A DJ You Should Know

There are some DJs that gain their fame from prolific mixtape output. You know their names because they’re blasted in echo effect on every song of every mixtape. They chose DJ’ing as their means to become famous, smashing songs together with no care or concern for the music.

Then there are those DJs who are legendary because they understand that DJing is an art. In Houston, the DJ of note is Robert Davis, better known as DJ Screw, who transformed the hip hop landscape by creating a genre of music that transcended the city he repped – Houston. But, he’s not alone. Houston can claim another legend in the making, DJ Good Grief.

Those in the know can find Grief mixing at EJs and The Spot, the least likely place for a white guy form Channelview to be at, but his homebase non-the-less. They’re the kind of spots that serve all you can eat crawfish for $20. And eating crawfish was the perfect way to pass the time on a sticky night while waiting for Grief to show up. His scheduled time was 8 p.m., one bucket of crawfish and two gin and tonic’s later the man of the night arrives in the most unassuming manner. He walked in swiftly, fresh from DJing a gig in the rain. With headphones on his head, he began to set up shop.

Ten minutes later EJs was popping. The guy in the black t-shirt and plaid shorts immediately spun rap classics from ESG, Mystikal and Eric B and the crowd rocked with him while they played dominoes and watched the playoffs. So, how did this DJ become a Houston classic affectionately known as just Grief by his fans? “My mom is a record head and my sister plays bass in her own band,” he says in his soft spoken demeanor. “I just grew up around music.” He may have grown up around music, but found a particular kinship to all things funky. Grief’s choices have a similar heavy bass line that overpowers any 808. The music is pulsing and groovy; selections that could have only been chosen by a true music lover.

His first gig was in 1987, recording songs on a Beta Max VCR and made a few bucks playing tunes for the neighborhood. He honed his skills by working the ones and twos at legendary Houston club scenes such as Maxx’s and The Roxy.

“From Electro-Boogie to the Auto-Tune, I feel like I’ve been able to stay ahead of the sound. Back in the day it was the only way of survival (as a DJ) to be an original. Now-a-days it’s a big factory where every DJ is equipped with a laptop and downloads of what a program director is paid to say is hot.”

Since then, he’s toured overseas, headlining in Paris with DJ Jazzy Jeff, and put out a few mixtapes himself. Grief isn’t interested in the fame that his peers around Houston compete for; his interest is in the acclaim from the fans who appreciate his pure love for what he does. “He really loves music,” says Billye Jordan, a close friend of Grief and a member of the legendary Coughee Sister crew. “He’s a hip hop historian. It’s rare that you find this kind of talent at this level.”

Grief reaches all the way back to Houston classics from the SUC and recent hits from Dallas to Boosty Collins and the Isley Brothers, and it’s evident that he has a mastery of what blends musical tastes. He’s one of the few Houston DJs who makes you want to stay for his entire set.

What’s more impressive than his musical styling is how approachable, humble and just plain ol’ nice he is. When he’s not working the turn table and a white Apple laptop, he’s moving around talking to people, pushing in chairs strewn about the club and occasionally picking up a fallen napkin from the floor. No, he’s not a Go DJ, wearing T-Pain hats and talking on the microphone every five seconds. “I respect those dudes, but that’s not what I’m into,” Grief says. He understands the game, and recognizes his own prowess on the turntables, which has lent itself to hate from outsiders at times. “I try to stay out of the media,” he says. “I don’t want to be a part of that crowd. It’s wack, and it’s boring to be that kind of DJ.”

See, it’s not that Grief is being confrontational, he just sees so much more for the Houston music scene. “There’s not really Houston rap,” he explains. “There’s not really a sound in Houston anymore, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. It’s expanding and it’s becoming universal. Pop is rap.” True as that may be, it’s still sad to see the Houston sound fade, and the grind to keep up with the change is wearing on Grief. “I want to chill with my family and get into some other projects,” says the 30-something who plans on retiring at the end of 2009.

He plans to begin teaching DJ courses at Caanes High School, an alternative school for kids who want to find a different way to pursue their passions, one similar to the one he attended when he was younger. “I got bored with school and felt like there was something else I could put my energy towards,” he says. In that same vein, he’s in the planning stages of a not-for-profit music school for grammar and middle school-aged children. The hope is to be an alternative for children who have had the music programs removed from their respective schools. “He’s a very nice person,” Jordan says. “He’s family oriented, generous, and is genuinely interested in offering alternatives for the kids around Houston.”

In the meantime, he’s DJing throughout the Houston social and club scene, consistently at EJs on Saturdays. Catch him if you can, he’s worth it. And get a taste of his style when you check on the exclusive theblvdmag.com/Good Grief mixtape.  For more info check his site djgoodgrief.com. You can also find him blogging about his experiences as a DJ on thegriefgoodlife.com

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SPECIAL THANKS TO GOOD GRIEF

© 2009, Keisha Jenkins. All rights reserved by Sub Urban Media Group.