Nick Collings is well respected on the DJ circuit for his craft of music and presentation.
Please sit down and let's have a cuppa while you tell me some things about yourself.
Have DJ gigs changed over the years?
Technology plays a huge part in the evolution of the DJ. When I started I carried vinyl records and had a limited selection. Now you can download almost any song in the history of music via a device and play it 30 seconds later.
Best things about Ponsonby?
Whiskey Bar, Fitzroy Lounge Bar and KFC. Good people, great music and popcorn chicken.
How have you been surviving the pandemic?
Unless I’m like Bruce Willis in the Sixth Sense (spoiler alert) then yes I am indeed alive. I know it’s not very PC to say, but I nailed 2020; I helped set up an online DJ streaming group (Lockdown Legends); started an online community of dance music enthusiasts (Auckland Nightlife Year 2000+ Facebook Page); put on a multi-venue party called “One More Time” and connected with a bunch of new people through all of those platforms.
Favourite TV series?
I’m a sucker for nostalgia and ‘The Wonder Years’ reflects on the trials and tribulations of being a teenager. It’s sweet, honest and hits you right in the feels.
Reincarnated as what?
A bra.
If you won a million dollars?
I’d throw it onto a bed and roll around in it.
Favourite movie?
Stand By Me. “I never had any friends later on like the ones I had when I was twelve. Jesus, does anyone?”
Ever seen a ghost?
In mid-February 1988 I was nine years old and was accompanying my mum to Australia to visit Poppy (as I called him), who was sick in the hospital. It was my first time on an airplane and where my fear of flying began. (If you don’t know that story then that’s something to ask me about in person). At nine, I didn’t really comprehend what was going on but I was instructed to quietly play with my micro machines in the corner of the hospital room.
All I really knew was that the family were coming through and there was a sense of impending sadness. That day hit on 23 February, two days before my 10th birthday. I remember very little (or perhaps I blocked it out) of the emotions and feelings that came immediately after the announcement of the passing of Poppy. But something that has stuck with me for three decades, like a photograph pinned to the wall of my skull, was when he re-appeared.
I was sharing a guest room with my mum at my grandmother’s apartment. The same apartment Poppy resided at only weeks earlier. The beds faced towards a mirrored wardrobe that stretched the length of the room. I’ve never been a great sleeper and woke up to a full apartment in full slumber. The bedroom door was wide open and as I squinted my eyes open I could see the reflection of the moon in the kitchen through that mirrored wardrobe. My eyes panned down and standing there with a generous friendly smile was Poppy.
Almost as if a cardboard cut-out had been put there. There he was... wrinkled skin, white hair with a part, glasses on, with one of those Hawaiianesque button up shirts and “old man” slacks on. It was so clear. He showed no movement at all; that’s why all my attention was drawn to that calm soothing smile. As a child I was petrified but I could not look away - I held it there looking for what seemed liked 30 seconds - long enough that it wasn’t just a shadow.
My anxiety and fear got the better of me though and I shut my eyes tightly for at least five seconds and when I re-opened them he was gone. I told my family and got the “that’s a very special moment you had dear” speech. My birthday came and it was cool to have the family around. I was under no illusion that they weren’t hurting, but they put on a brave face to celebrate what was a positive in their eyes - me turning ten. I got a chocolate cake and a Talking ALF, which is everything I ever wanted in a material item at the time.
Give your teenaged self-advice.
No matter what later in life Nick tells you, keep dancing.
Dream home?
The usual, a draw-bridge with a moat, and a lazy river and a ride-on train that takes you around the property. And a waterslide out of the second story window to the pool. (DAVID HARTNELL MNZM)