This Is What It's Like to DJ a Sex Party

Image by Rob Dobi

“Ooooh yeah,” DJ Kev.Kruz gives me a coy smile as he motions two fingers upwards in response to my assertion that I’m game for any kind of party snacks. “I bet you like finger food.”

I manage a small giggle as the 40-something house DJ with a baby face and an upcoming gig at Chemistry NYC— the “borough-roving, house-party style sexcapade”—peppers innuendos throughout our pre-party meeting at the appropriately (or inappropriately) named Cock & Bull bar. I should have expected this, though: Chemistry is New York’s pre-eminent sex party aimed at creating a relaxed, “unpretentious” environment for doing the nasty with neighbors, and Kev is responsible for the soundtrack. His job is to deliver a playlist that ranges from hype-up dance to panty-wetting adult contemporary while avoiding the cheesy dirty talk tracks that most “sexy” playlists tend to be made of.

“It’s about all the elements of Chemistry coming together in one space,” he explains. “It’s the type of thing that makes you ecstatic. It’s the type of thing that makes you release, so taking it to the level of intercourse is just like the ultimate… that’s an even higher level of release.” He smiles mischievously, adding, “As long as I’ve gotten that pulse of the room and kind of lead them on a journey as far as the pace and the tone, it can be pretty special.”

So what guarantees a night of ecstasy and a panty-dropping playlist that lives up to its promises? According to Kev, there’s more to it than simply fading from one Prince album to the next. Similar to how being a good lovemaker really depends on reading your partner’s body cues and pushing all the corresponding buttons, DJing a sex party requires feeling out the room and the people in it. That’s easier in an environment like Chemistry, where people come to get lost in an aura of hedonistic pleasure far removed from reality, and it’s all facilitated by over-the-top entertainment, cut-out costumes, and sparkly decorations that reflect the overall theme of the event. But Kev has also spent a lot of time thinking about this question.

He explains that the structure of every sex party set is the same, complete with a ramp-up, climax (pun intended) and a finish that creates a crescendo that will hopefully jive with the room’s overall sexual rhythm. The components of a successful “play”-list depends on a multitude of factors, from what time of night it is to how many people are on the dance floor to what the décor is like. There’s a lot of improvisation, but Kev also answers my question about whether there’s a science to what works with an enthusiastic “YES,” insisting that there’s years of research and study determining that “you want to get busy to this.”

“A PhD in Soundtracks to Lovemaking,” he jokes. “My publishing company is called Lucid Dreams Soundtrack Music, so I’m always thinking of my music as like the backdrop to this greater thing that you’re living. After all, what’s greater than a room full of people having sex?”

To answer that question, I went to Chemistry’s “Winter Ball” event to see if Kev’s playlist (just the) tips could hit the high notes (G, presumably), thrusting rhythms, and multi-part harmonies he claimed they would. Would the vibe be a slap, like when I quickly turned a corner and ran into a woman’s bare breast, or would it be a total mood killer, like I was as I munched on crudités in a corner and watched people sit on a giant vibrator machine?

As I wandered the party, I tried to get a sense of which songs facilitated solicitations, which ones made stripping possible, and which got people’s grind going. One of the main things I noticed was that there seemed to be a strange uptick in approaches whenever early 2000s pop remixes came on, making it all feel a little like a middle school dance. It was also a dance I should have Sadie Hawkins’d, as most of the asking came from older, balding gentlemen in suits who I declined with the old “journalistic objectivity” excuse. One regular who approached me was nice, though, and he told me I should follow him to check out the lofted “play area,” which you apparently can’t access without a partner. I agreed—for research purposes, of course. It turned out to be a plush room full of couches with lots of bouncing butts and pretzel pose action. With early 2000s R&B mood music muted by the velvety décor, the room seemed like the place for low ‘n’ slow, pressure cooker pleasure, especially compared to the high energy dance area outside.

Back in the main area, the vibe was more one of chaos than tantric sensuality. Along with the vibrator machine, the main activities I noticed as I sat to the side were a man sucking on a girl’s toes and a sexy schoolteacher type bent over the loft railing, performing an unsynchronized striptease to what sounded like an old CeCe Rogers song. Oh, and a woman was getting vigorously fingerbanged five inches from my head.

Then again, what was I expecting other than the unexpected from a secret sex party? Whatever Kev was doing, I guess it was working—although, to be fair, it’s hard to imagine that there’s much that would actively keep people already bent on finding pleasure from getting it on. People would probably find a way to touch each other, but it turns out that parties like Chemistry—in Kev’s eyes, at least—are one of the best ways to still hear playlists of smooth house interspersed with disco dance and old school edits.

“New York is not New York anymore, it’s not the same kind of vibe people have romanticized about,” he tells me earlier in the day. “The venues are running out, so I’m always on the lookout for where I play.” So after reading an article about Chemistry, which labeled its music selection as “soulful house,” Kev was intrigued, especially since he had been to similar gatherings before and dug the idea of a “soulful house sex party.”

“I think I emailed them something like, ‘I’m not at all offended,’” he recalls. “’I’m actually a little turned on by the whole thing, and would you consider having me be a DJ?’ And they invited me not too long after that to come play.” I ask if he’s allowed to play in multiple senses—that is, participate in the events once his set is done. He answers with a quizzical “of course,” adding, however, that it’s never actually happened at Chemistry because he needs “to get out of work mode and get into party mode for any shenanigans to really happen.”

“I do have other DJ fantasies though,” Kev winks as he pretends to spin his deck. “Like I want some head. Could somebody make a blowjob happen while I’m up there? I should talk to [Chemistry organizer] KennyBlunt about that… like, man, hook it up right now!”

I laugh and agree that it’s the least he should get in exchange for his services—an essential component to setting a mood that’s guaranteed to get you off. After all, Kev insists that if you get busy to one of his playlists, “you will explode.” He emphasizes the statement with a slight wiggle of his eyebrows as he licks his fingers clean of bleu cheese dressing and BBQ sauce: “No batteries required.”

Sandra Song is a writer living in Brooklyn. Follow her on Twitter.