DJ Ron Slomowicz
Read all of our 2015 Pride Coverage: Grace Under Fire: Embracing LGBT members may have saved Franklin's GracePointe church — or destroyed it; The Buddy System: A new volunteer organization helps transgender individuals with the sometimes tricky elements of health care; Lip Service: Ladies, remember the first time you kissed a girl? So does a Nashville Web series; Ron, Baby, Ron: Longtime Nashville denizen DJ Ron Slomowicz bids Music City adieu
If you can remember — back before Vanderbilt University pulled all of its diverse community-DJ programming from the now virtually invisible WRVU — the weird reach that 91.1 FM had over so much of the city. Speaking many languages, expanding many perspectives — that was the legacy of Vanderbilt radio for a long time, and it's hard to think of WRVU without thinking of two names: Traci Todd and Ron Slomowicz. Todd's George, the Bluegrass Show was the longest-running program in the station's history when the purges started happening, but DJ Ron's Out of the Closet hung around long after the writing was on the wall, through sheer force of will.
For a lot of gay Nashville, DJ Ron isn't just a person, but a continuum. You grew up listening to his radio shows, whether you were a closeted kid in the country or outskirts, a disco debutante, a newly inspired activist, a respectable businessperson, a drag artist, a drug dealer, a social worker or just someone who liked to be informed and shake some ass to a proper beat. Long before MTV experimented with electronica in the mid-'90s, Slomowicz was finding the vertex in the amassing sounds that late-night club DJs (like Rick Pfeiffer, Lance Gamlin, Russell Yarborough, Richie Huber and Eddie Denson) were playing in the city's grand dance palaces, that you could find in the city's own warehouse rave culture (courtesy of DJs like Chek, Chip B, Crash, and Larry Breaks), that the Top 40 stations might dip a toe in on Saturday Night Hotmixes, and that the industrial and goth kids were playing at their parties. If there's a particular recurrence to the many hats Slomowicz wore during his time in Nashville, it's that of unifier.
Now, almost 25 years after arriving in Nashville as a Vandy freshman, Slomowicz has moved on to Chicago, shaking things up and spreading metaphorical wings. Having known and — full disclosure — been friends with the affably manic DJ for 24 of those years, I have a hard time thinking of how the city and the DJ are going to get by without one another.
First, and not necessarily foremost, what's the biggest difference between the way this city deals with its nightlife, now versus then? When I arrived in Nashville, I realized that in the gay clubs it was all about the drag queens and not the DJs. ... Incredible DJs like Russell and Eddie and Richie were performing to packed dance floors, but no one knew who they were. At that same time, the rave movement was hitting the city hard, and at those parties, the DJs were all prominently advertised and publicized. My radio persona — the obnoxious gay guy on the air, DJ Ron — was my way of branding, before it was called that, and I always struggled to get my name on the fliers as a way to bring a name to the DJs who played at the gay clubs.
And what motivated you to use a show on 91.1 as the springboard for this? When I started Out of the Closet, I was inspired by two things: the movie Pump Up the Volume and a seminar at an LGBT student conference in Delaware.
So that's another thing we have director Allan Moyle to thank for. This was before Queer as Folk or Will and Grace, even before the Pedro Zamora season of The Real World; there was next to no positive LGBT discourse in mainstream media. I remember getting calls ranging from parents who didn't know what to do when their kid came out and gay kids contemplating suicide to religious zealots telling me that I was going to hell and morons who would just yell "fag." Part of it was revolting against my surroundings. ... Vanderbilt was a very conservative university, and I had been threatened by hall mates. So I channeled all this into a flamboyant and, let's face it, obnoxious radio persona that was super-gay. I have a unique voice, so when I would go out in public, people would instantly recognize me. It felt really good to be recognized for what I was doing and also to know that I was helping bring an unexpected voice to the LGBT community. I was instantly embraced by people and organizations that I respected, which kind of blew my mind.
Were you prepared for respectability? I will never forget the first time that I met [prominent civil rights attorney] Abby Rubenfeld, and she said that she listened to my show. The feeling that I was part of the movement that was helping Nashville to progress is what motivated me to do more and made me want to stay in Nashville even longer.
So you weren't seduced by the Athens of the South right away? I had planned to transfer from Vanderbilt after my first semester. The radio show and McGill Hall are what kept me here. And in the intervening time, Vandy has done a lot to better itself. There's a thriving LGBTQIA Center, and even an annual drag show, which I kind of helped start. ... I branched out to doing parties on campus and then a lot of charity events for causes I believed in — Pride, Nashville CARES, HRC [Human Rights Campaign], et cetera. While my earliest club gigs were smaller prime-time venues, I really found my niche at after-hours clubs — first The Zone, and then at eXceSs.
One of the earlier incarnations of the Church Street gayborhood. In the post-Midnight Sun vacuum. And after I graduated from Vandy in 1995, I started getting active in Nashville Pride. First as a volunteer, doing publicity, and then as an executive board member. Working with Mitzi Delay and Neil Eaton and James Gilliam — it was a small, dedicated team, and sometimes it felt like the weight of the world was on our backs. I was very honored to spin the Pride Ball at the Parthenon for a few years, a truly special and unique venue. We were also mentored by San Diego Pride, and they taught us how to grow the festival. ... Pride, to me, is a holiday. "Happy Pride" is what I always say when I greet people. I'm surprised there isn't a Hallmark card for it yet.
To you, what's been the biggest change over your 25 years in Nashville? I'm amazed at the degree of straight people embracing gay culture — [now-closed dance clubs] The Chute and The Connection were almost all gay. There'd be a few straight people there, but the vibe was that it was a private haven for us. The after-hours clubs, which really brought raver/party kids and gays together, really began the change. Then the launch of Tribe, with the modern vibe where everyone was welcome, continued this, and you had Play really promoting itself as a club for everyone. Events like QDP have a truly open vibe, and LGBT people feel comfortable going to straight clubs as well. ...
While we are clearly in the Bible Belt, the prevailing attitude has mirrored the national changes. Vanderbilt and Metro Nashville have led the way with LGBT-friendly laws, and gay dance floors have been just as welcoming. While they may not always be perfect, there is a burgeoning progressive spirit here. There's still violence and intimidation, like everywhere, but it is nowhere near what it was 20 years ago. I've walked down the street holding my boyfriend's hand, and that's something I would have never imagined doing back in the '90s.
Can you believe that mainstream pop music is all EDM and hip-hop? The drum machines won. Decisively. Dance music was almost exclusively a gay thing in the '80s and '90s. Anything with a tempo faster than hip-hop was techno. And then rave culture brought people to the dance floor, and the electronica movement — Prodigy, Chemical Brothers, Crystal Method — brought in some converts as well. The original Party 102.5-FM embraced dance music as well, at a time when other stations really didn't. Today, people aren't so genrephobic and want a mix of EDM, hip-hop and pop.
So, given the horrible gutting of WRVU, where does all that energy go? What all have you been doing in the broadcast world? Locally, I'm a big supporter of WRFN since its launch, and I'm continuing to help launch WXNA as well. Nationwide, I'm also focusing on being the music director of Nexus online.
What are some of your best and most memorable Pride experiences? As a dance music lover, a highlight of Pride is always the live performers: Crystal Waters, Ultra Naté, Kristine W, Trish Vogel, Kerli, Nikki Williams and Kaci Battaglia all come to mind. And some of my fondest Pride memories are working with [late, great drag queen] Bianca Paige. You never knew what was going to come out of her mouth — in person or onstage. One year, another drag queen had demanded chocolate-covered strawberries or she would refuse to go onstage. Bianca found about this, and every punch line she had revolved around chocolate-covered strawberries. It was one of those inside jokes that people in the audience had no clue about, but behind the scenes, everyone was in awe.
Given everything that has changed over the years, what to you hasn't really changed in Nashville? Disconnection. In the LGBT community, there is still disconnection between people of different genders, racial backgrounds and ages. Aside from Pride, there doesn't seem to be a single event or place where everyone gathers together. Granted, this is pretty much the same in every city I visit, and it is a real shame. But the teenagers who came out listening to Lady Gaga could learn a lot from the guys who grew up at The Chute. The ladies from the Ralph's era could gain great perspectives from the girls who live on Snapchat. Dialogue and communication are always the answer.
DJ Ron Slomowicz will be spinning at this year's Pride celebration. You can also hear him spin live at Play Dance Bar on Pride weekend, on Radio Free Nashville (WRFN-FM) Saturday nights from 1-3 a.m., on NexusRadio.FM, and weekly as the newest resident DJ at Roscoe's in Chicago.
