Recording D. J. Styles

Kids should be seen and not heard, but D.J.'s should be accessible to all the senses. Now that everyone's dancing again (V.I.P.-room posing has been pretty much disposed of), these stylish spinners have become club centerpieces.

"If the audience looks more fabulous than you do, it doesn't work," says Keoki, a D.J. at Bolido and Red Zone. The twenty-twoyear-old Hawaiian favors a "butch look, with a nice pair of warm, huggy tennis shoes" and a cap with Plexiglas letters announcing his name. Atlanta import Larry Tee, who plays at the World and Mars, is inspired by Barry White, Tom Jones, Elvis, Liberace, "and basically show biz" as interpreted through junk shops and yard sales. "The South generates more kooks," he says, adjusting his dead-Pomeranian-like wig. "There's more time to examine your different looks, because all you have down there is time."

On the farthest extreme is Sister Dimension (Alan Mace), from Greenville, South Carolina (so it's true about the South). Mace was a founder of Pyramid and spins at clubs such as Whispers and Copa (on Susanne Bartsch's nights), often in full, otherworldly cross-dress, replete with fake lips to rival Barbara Hershey's. On the thin line between beauty and dementia, Mace admits, "Sometimes I can't D.J. without that feeling of being in heels."

Other club D.J.'s range from the far-out funkster Super D.J. Dmitry to the more understated Michael Connolly to the earthily elegant Belinda Goffe. Jules, a Londoner who plays Nell's and M.K., always wears suits, but they range from vintage three-piece ones to Adidas tracksuits, homeboy-style. He spins records, and heads, nightly.

MICHAEL MUSTO