1000

1970 Mercedes-Benz 300SEL 6.3 (W109).

Spotting a 6.3 downtown Berlin-Kreuzberg is something we thought would never happen – actually, we never even expect to find one anywhere. But it happened today and here’s the story.

As the author took pictures, thrilled and with shaky hands, the owners came back and were kind enough to tell us about the history of their gem. 6.3 number 4358 first hit the road May 14th 1970 and was sold from the estate of its first owner, a West-Berlin entrepreneur, through an auction. The car never underwent a restoration, but along with the car came a folder with 46 years of service documentation: bills, original service notes („Der Mercedes verbraucht bei 220 km/h etwa 38 Liter Super-Benzin“), original manuals, maintenance notes and licenses. Priceless, eventhough the life of the original owner found a more tragic end – he committed suicide on his yacht. But his 6.3 roars, shines and rumbles on …  

Ok, so here are the geeky bits: • note the rare rear headrests, they are originals and were ordered in black.   • note the jaw-dropping super quality thick red leather, unmatched by anything out there today • note the Macassar wood panels, the most beautiful of the five woods available on the W108/109 series • note the five extra factory switches on and beneath the dashboard • note the original post-1968 Bosch alloy wiper arms with original MB rubbers • note the flawless original chrome • note the rare VDO Kienzle clock in the dashboard with round edges • note the automatic antenna • note the longer wheelbase to fit in the massive M100 engine transplanted from the 600 • note the Becker Mexiko tuner with tape

I was home watching TV and cutting up a steak when I got the call at 8PM. A friend of mine worked at a famous hotel in LA and one of the guests made a last minute request for a DJ to play the hotel bar. Someone that could get there and start playing in an hour. The bar frequently had live bands play, but never a DJ. So with little to no time, my wise and generous friend thought to throw a gig my way.

“Yeah, I can get there in an hour. Am I getting paid?”

“Yes, you’ll get paid.”

“What kind of party is it? What am I playing?”

“Someone’s renting out the bar for a private party. And that someone is… The Artist… formerly… known… as… Prince.”

That sentence was not real to me. Still not real. I had no time to really think or say anything but, “What? You serious? Yes. Be there as soon as I can.” Got off the phone and my stomach turned. Only a handful of people in the world have imprinted their music that much in my brain. And couldn’t he just call up any of the best DJ’s in LA to come play for him? Why’s he gonna trust someone who is by all means an unknown? I’d been DJing parties and bars for years but going from that to Prince is an Olympic leap.

The next half hour felt like a panic attack. I made a list of songs to play for Prince and his private Prince party. Ok, no Prince songs. He doesn’t want to hear himself. No MJ. I don’t want to insult him or anything. Didn’t they have beef in the 80’s? No hip hop. Can’t picture him rocking out to Kendrick. I thought of who he was influenced by and dragged some James Brown and Stevie songs into the playlist. Isley Brothers, Curtis. Great. 8:20PM. I still have to get ready even though I could spend the next month picking songs. I quickly close my laptop and get dressed. Pack up my turntables, mixer, cables and run them all to the car as I’m sweating through this black suit.

I get to the hotel with about five minutes to set up. The bar is completely empty aside from a couple of servers and my friend who made the call. And the room is almost lit exclusively by candlelight. I’m told to set up my turntables on the grand piano, which is also covered with candles, making me feel like hip hop Liberace. A waitress tells me there’s like an 80% chance Prince doesn’t show up. He just likes to rent out the bar in case he and his friends wander through the hotel and feel like stopping in. “But you should start playing music anyway in case he comes in. Who knows.” So I start playing songs to the very empty bar. The anticipation is a killer. My friend gives me a much needed glass of whiskey before taking off.

A giant spread of appetizers is covering the bar and getting sweaty. Spring rolls, cheese, orange juice. An hour goes by. Then another hour. A no-show. I’m kind of bummed out but also very relieved. I don’t know how I’m going to react if he walks in that door. So I’m just playing the set of my life to nobody. It’s like I’m getting paid to practice and listen to whatever I want on the bar’s sound system.

At 12AM the door opens and some guy walks over to me and without a greeting he says,

“Hey man. He’ll be here in 15 minutes. What are you gonna play when he walks in?”

“Oh I got some stuff lined up. Some older Stevie Wonder, the JB’s.”

“Yeah. Yeah, he likes that. Anything like that, Earth Wind & Fire, Chic.”

“Yeah I got Chic! I’ll play that.”

“And he wants to hear Janelle Monáe when he walks in. You got that?”

“Yup. Yup. Janelle Monáe.”

“Cool, he’ll be here in 15 minutes.”

I didn’t have any Janelle Monáe. I ran out to the concierge desk in the lobby to get the wifi password, ran back and started downloading a bunch of Janelle Monáe off of iTunes. Right on time as I cue up the track, the door opens and I catch a quick glimpse. Full on afro, turtleneck and a gold chain. I want to say he had a cane, but I was trying not to look directly at him. I didn’t want to throw him off or maybe infuriate him by making eye contact. Prince was in the room. I was just musical wallpaper. He and a friend sat down at a couch about fifteen feet away from me.

The grand entrance song blended straight into James Brown’s Talking Loud and Saying Nothing. I played Ike & Tina Turner, Charles Wright, Omar’s The Man, and Gust of Wind by Pharrell. My head was pretty much glued to the turntables, sticking to my no look philosophy, but I could hear bits of conversation. Hearing that Prince voice in person was something strange. It just belongs on record or on microphone. I start dishing out some other favorite tracks of mine, Think Twice by Jay Dee and Alicia Myers I Want to Thank You. There’s zero reaction to the songs I play. I’m still worried I’m not playing what he wants to hear. Is he gonna throw a spring roll at me?

A little later that guy from earlier comes back into the bar and walks straight over to me.

“Hey man. Just want to let you know, they love your music.”

“Oh really? Thanks. Do they want to hear anything in particular?”

“Nope. Just keep playing what your playing.”

Oh it’s on now. I can finally breathe and I’m getting props from the man himself, or from the middleman himself. And then it hits me. There’s only two people in there. Prince and a girl. I’m not there to DJ a private party. I’m there to DJ a date. Prince is on a date and I’m the entertainment.

I saved my set list from that night and I don’t remember playing half the songs on it. All I know is I was in deep concentration, mixing out of my mind. Messenger man came in one more time and said Prince might try to play the piano. When it was time, he would pop his head in the door and give me the cue to stop DJing. I had never seen Prince perform, so a private piano ballad to his woman and myself sounded alright. I stayed looking at that door for a while until Prince’s date walked over to me.

“Hey, so what’s the name of this song? He likes it and wants to know.”

“It’s a Smith’s cover. This Charming Man by Stars.”

She sat back down and relayed the info, to which he nodded his head. Now I’m stumping Prince with cool music. I play another track. She comes over to me again and asks, “What’s this one? He wants this on repeat.” Blacker 4 The Good Times by Ballistic Brothers. So I play that song a couple more times in a row. It’s now 4AM and I’m just a little delirious from being on my feet DJing for 7 hours. And I’m running out of music. My song selections are all over the map at this point. Esperanza Spalding, ESG, Broken Bells.

At around 4:30 Prince gets up off the couch and walks floats right over to me. He looks me in the eye, starts shaking my hand and says in a deep Prince voice,

“Thank you. That was very enjoyable.”

“Thanks. Glad you enjoyed it.”

In my mind it was that smooth but there’s no doubt I was speaking gibberish.

And just like that he left the room with his date. He didn’t put any moves on her in the bar, but I like to think I helped him out by setting the mood for whatever happened next. I stopped the music and the lights went on.

And that was the best night of DJing I ever had or ever will have.

Playlist from that night.