The DJ Dilemma: When the Beats Are Strong, But the Knees Are Not Alex Gutierrez

 

The DJ Dilemma: When the Beats Are Strong, But the Knees Are Not

You know that moment when you're living your best life, feeling like you’ve still got it, and then—bam! Your body reminds you that, surprise, you're definitely not 21 anymore? Well, that’s me. I’ve been DJing in clubs, concerts, and events for over 45 years, and let me tell you, when that bass drops, I still feel like I’m 25, throwing down the hottest tracks for a sea of sweaty, dancing bodies. But then I wake up the next morning, and my knees sound like a bowl of Rice Krispies when I try to stand up. That's when I start to wonder: maybe the beats are dropping a little too hard on me.

I’m still spinning my old-school favorites—Donna Summer, Cerrone, El Gran Combo—you know, the classics that never go out of style. And honestly, I love it. But, let’s face it, something’s changed. I’m not quite as bouncy as I used to be. These days, when I look in the mirror, it’s like seeing my musical soul in a thrift store a little more vintage than I remember. My love for music is eternal, but the body? Well, let’s just say it's starting to resemble an old-school record player—lots of skips, and an occasional hiss of static.

The real reality check hits when I try to watch a movie. I used to be the guy who could sit through a three-hour film, analyzing every frame like I was preparing for an Oscar nomination. Now? I’m out like a light halfway through the opening credits. It’s not just in the theater either. At home, I’ve mastered the art of nodding off mid-sentence. You could say I’m a professional sleeper with a side hustle in DJing.

Now, let’s get to the burning question—are my DJ days numbered? Is my era of clubbing, concerts, and flashing lights coming to an end? Am I at the tail end of a journey that started when I was 14, sneaking into clubs with a fake ID and feeling like the coolest person alive? Honestly, I don’t know. And that uncertainty is equally terrifying and hilarious. Because here’s the thing: when I can’t DJ anymore, what in the world am I going to do with myself?

To make things easier on my creaky joints, I’ve started scheduling my events so that by 12:30 AM—yes, remember when we used to get dressed at that time back in the late ‘70s?—they’re done. By then, the crowd’s thinning out, many of them need to get home to see their grandkids or finally answer those 35 missed calls from their kids. Perfect timing, right? We get our nightclub fix, and we’re all home by 1 AM, ready for a nice cup of chamomile tea. Party animals, indeed.

This gig has been my identity for as long as I can remember. It’s not just what I do—it’s who I am. I’m most alive when I’m behind the decks, feeding off the crowd's energy, crafting those perfect sets that keep people dancing until the first light of dawn. And honestly, I’ve only made it this far because of all the amazing people who still show up, supporting me. But what happens when my knees, which have been carrying me for decades, decide they’ve had enough? What happens when I can’t haul the gear, set up the sound system, or move like I’m auditioning for America’s Got Talent anymore?

The truth is, I don’t know. And that thought is both terrifying and a little bit funny. But I’m stubborn as hell. I’ve survived every musical trend from disco to dubstep, and while my back might creak like an old wooden floor, my passion for DJing is still going strong. So maybe, just maybe, I’ll keep spinning until my body gives out—aching joints, slow recovery, and all. Heck, I’ll DJ from a recliner if I have to, with a heating pad wrapped around my neck and a glass of warm milk in hand.

And when the inevitable happens—when I can no longer hit the decks at full throttle—maybe I’ll become the world’s oldest DJ, rocking vinyl at retirement homes. Who says the party has to end when you hit 70? Sure, I might have to turn the volume down for my hearing aids, but I’ll still have a loyal following of 90-year-olds who know how to shake it.

In the end, my age might be catching up with me, but my passion? That’s timeless. So for now, I’ll keep spinning, keep dancing (even if it’s just a slow, steady sway), and keep praying my body doesn’t go on strike before I can even get out of bed. And if it does? Well, I’ve got the perfect playlist to help me power through—because let’s face it, everything is better with disco.