`Dear Santa, this Christmas please bring me two Technics 1210s, a Vestax mixer, a pair of Sennheiser headphones, two Kam slipmats for scratching, and a set of Stanton iTracks (Tangerine colour please). And the latest Laurent Garnier album, too (on vinyl of course). Yours, Rory (aged 14)."
In the days before Fatboy Slim, Cream and Homelands, every kid on the block dreamed of becoming a rock star, and all we wanted for Christmas was a Fender Stratocaster and a Marshall stack. We would spend our afternoons down at the local guitar shop, plinking out Stairway To Heaven and banging on about blues scales, whammy bars and distortion pedals. Evenings would find us in front of the bedroom mirror, strumming a tennis racket and screeching into a hairbrush. Our heroes were U2 and Thin Lizzy, and we were convinced we would be bigger than both of them - if only the headmaster would let us use the school gym to rehearse in.
Ten years ago, Dublin was known as The City of 1,000 Bands, and the streets of Temple Bar were teeming with eager young guns in jeans and leather jackets, electric guitars strapped onto their shoulders like musical Uzis.
Today, Dublin is the City of A Million DJs, or it will be soon if the dance explosion continues to spin out of control. It seems as if every young person in the city wants to be a DJ when they grow up - and some of them don't even want to wait that long.
These turntable teens don't aspire to being Bono or Phil Lynnott - their idols are the less-recognisable faces of David Holmes, Johnny Moy and Mark Kavanagh. They shun the guitar shops, preferring to hang out at places such as Abbey Discs, where they can talk excitedly about the latest Grooverider remix, the new Nightmares on Wax 12-inch or the biggest new trance tunes on the floor. Hoodies have replaced biker jackets as the outer armour, trainers have taken over from Doc Martens, and 1210s are the weapons of choice for the new block-rocking beat generation.
Two recent incidents underline the subtle change in teenage tastes over the past decade. The first occurred in a record shop, in the dance section, I nonchalantly picked up Problem Kid's latest 12-inch, took it over to one of the turntables, put on the headphones and started listening.
A teenager, of around 15, sidled over to the turntable beside me, flipped on a record, and started "scratching" deftly, peeking up every now and again to check if I was impressed. I couldn't hear his scratching, but I was impressed by his apparent dexterity and obvious cockiness. Back in my day, he would probably have played the lick from Layla, in search of the same reaction.
The second incident happened late last year, when a distraught mother phoned a friend looking for advice on how to fulfil her teenage son's Christmas wish. It seems when she asked darling Fintan what he wanted from Santa, he had replied, "decks". She was completely perplexed: what were decks? Where could she buy them? What brand should she choose? How much do they cost? Do they run on batteries or mains? Do they require refills?
Her friend phoned me, and I listed all the gear she needed to set her son on the road to becoming the next Fatboy Slim. I told her that "decks" were much like the gramophone turntables we used to listen to, only a bit cooler. I explained about mixers, headphones and 12-inch singles. "I thought vinyl was dead - are you sure he shouldn't be getting CD players?" she quizzed.
Vinyl is most definitely not dead, but old-fashioned rock cred is no longer to-die-for. Teenagers want praise for their mixing skills, not for their guitar solos, and sponsors are responding by staging DJ Championships in place of the usual Battle Of The Bands contests. The Siemens Student DJ 2000 Competition attracted entries from all over the country, and nine young finalists fought it out at the Red Box last month, in front of a judging panel which comprised Belfast superstar DJ, David Holmes, Alan O'Keefe from Cork, dance act Bass Odyssey, DJ Mark Kavanagh and 2FM's John Power.
Gavin Burke (22), a student at Galway-Mayo Institute of Technology in Castlebar, started DJ-ing at 16, but doesn't want to stop there. "I want to produce records, be creative," says Gavin. "Anybody can mix records, but to make your own sounds, you need to know a lot about the technology. I'm not into celebrity DJs - I admire people with the technical know-how."
Bobby Smith (19) from Athlone Institute of Technology, has no qualms about being in the spotlight. "It's brilliant to be able to get up and make the dance-floor go crazy," says Bobby. "You've got 2000 people in the palm of your hand, and you have complete control over them." Hmmm. Doesn't sound too different from being a pop star.
The glut of wannabe superstar DJs has its downside, however. With more young hopefuls looking for a gig, and a limited number of places to play in, the club scene is getting a bit like musical chairs, as everybody jostles for a seat in the DJ booth. Many young DJs are also falling into the same trap as their guitar-wielding predecessors - a lack of originality.
"They're starting out in a very small market," says Dave Delaney of Dublin dance act Redsettaz, who recently supported Public Enemy in the Red Box. "There are only so many promoters, and hundreds of young DJs looking for a slot. The only way to get noticed is to do something different, but everybody wants to be Paul Oakenfold. You have to stand apart from the crowd and do your own style."
Donal Scannell, from club promoters 3345, agrees. "Rock bands all want to sound like Radiohead, and DJs want to sound like Paul Oakenfold or Paul Van Dyk. But why would anyone want to sound like Oakenfold or Van Dyk? At least Radiohead are cool."
Dublin's Vicar Street is the monthly venue for 3345, which showcases some of Ireland's top DJs in action, alongside high-profile international guests. Scannell has a policy of helping new DJs get started and reserves a regular slot for someone who has never had a paying gig before. "We want to give new DJs a gig, but want people who aren't afraid to do their own thing. You have to really love your music, and want to have a long career. Don't be a sheep."
Luckily, not everyone is DJ Dolly the cloned sheep. Fresh DJs who are making their individual mark in a crowded arena include Dublin DJ Tu-Ki, who will play the next 3345 on June 25th, and Splyce, a first-year student from Galway who reached the finals of the DMC DJ Championship. It's not just a lads' club, either: women DJs on the rise include Mo Kelly, who flips between a modelling career and a passion for dance music, and Fiona Byrne, who works for women's website, ivenus.com, and plays at the Screamadelica club in Temple Bar Music Centre every Thursday night.
But if you think that this DJ lark is a doddle, then listen to the wise words of Johnny Moy, a veteran of 10 years in the business, and one of Irish dance music's early pioneers.
"You have to work hard at it, it takes up your whole life. I'm travelling around the world, I'm up late every night of the week - I'm doing it 24-7. I've had two major relationships split up because of the lifestyle, but I can't stop. It's in my blood."
If you want to rock the house at Vicar St, send a tape to 3345, P.O. Box 5952, Dublin 1, or e-mail Donal Scannell at 3345@3345.ie