I hence think that many of the playlists above are actually made of stuff spinned in bars, not for dance-floors. I'd never dare to spin The Squires' Goin all the way to a regular crowd, and the break in the middle of Born Loser is impossible to handle. One of my favourite records ever, but at home !
Quite correct, my set above was a mid afternoon bar set during one of those cursed EuroModGroovyWeekenders so despised round these parts. Like I said though, it was great fun.
I used to run a very successful indie night and despite the images portrayed by of some of the most established regulars, the dancefloor would always be most packed with the various "guilty pleasures" I'd throw in. There is always context though, you're trying to create an environment and atmosphere as well as just a dance floor, for me, I'm playing to everyone in the venue, not just those shaking their booty at a particular moment in time. With the hope that my good taste will win them over in the end whatever I play, of course.
I will always remember playing a midweek "60's night" for a friend. I was covering as the regular dj was away and I was helping out the venue owner (who also runs my local record shop). I turned up with my usual box of 60's soul. Before the gig, the owner flicked through my box. That's not a euphemism. He said "great records, some amazing stuff. They'll hate it". He left me a box of beat up chart hits, nothing in that box was worth more than a quid. After a few of my own tunes bombed, records I'd probably spent hundreds on, I flung on "My Boy Lollipop" and the place erupted. I stuck to the chart stuff for the rest of the night, only occassionally testing the water with a few of my own favourites, rarely with much success. A good lesson in knowing your audience. I've had similar experience playing friends birthdays/parties/etc, they maybe say "I love your weird 60's shit, come play my party" but when you actually get to said party and the place is crammed with 40 year old nurses wanting the Dirty Dancing soundtrack, I pity the fool who tries to force a Detroit funk rarity on that turntable. Be warned, stilettos scratch faces, not just records...