Omg, I had so much fun last night. I DJed at the latest and greatest BlackBook party - it was an easy gig to get because I have an “in” there. The gala was at GunBar, a space in a place that was something else, which isn’t worth talking about. I mean—everything in Meatpacking was something else. They used to hang cow carcasses where swells now sip $1,000 bottles of champagne. In time it all gets washed away, and now it’s a playground for jet-setters and raucous revelers. GunBar is different and not just for the sake of it. It’s rock ‘n roll purity in a most unlikely place.

Every field of endeavor has its icons, and nightlife is no different. To be an icon in this world, one has to be successful and stay relevant. After all, you’re only as good as your last party. For every genuine icon, there are swarms of scenesters who occupy the pantheon in their own minds -- putting the “I” and “con” in the word. But it takes a certain amount of swagger to succeed in this business, so they should be forgiven. Besides, they are always the easiest people to shop for around Christmas: any mirror will do. Listed below are my six New York City club icons -- solo artists and teams -- and the up-and-comers with the potential to replace them, if only their predecessors would move to India (or somewhere even more remote, like Brooklyn).

Are you watching, or being watched?

An autopsy may reveal it was pills or something similar that shut Michael Jackson down, but the heart really gave out because it once was loved by the whole world and wasn't anymore. My emotions roller-coastered through a day of death and rumor. A great sadness consumed me as allegations and innuendo, tributes and music bombarded me through open windows and closed doors. From beatbox radios and every TV in the neighborhood, I was told to remember or condemn or to forgive or just listen. The complexity of understanding the meaning of Michael Jackson's death personally and on that grander scale became harder by the hour. I was enlightened by Jesse Jackson, Quincy Jones, Cher, Paul McCartney, and even Celine Dion. Everybody except Elizabeth Taylor was getting into the act -- it is an act we and they will find impossible to follow.

DJ to the stars Cassidy Podell started on the turntables in fifth grade. Since battling club owners for entry into venues (to work, of course) as a teen, the UES-born mixmaster now works with a list of clients on the level of: P Diddy, Jennifer Lopez, Jay Z, Kanye West, Oprah, Barack Obama, and Mariah Carey. And if that's not enough, the 27-year-old has recently discovered and produced new club-track sensation O'Neil McKnight (the album drops later this year). Cassidy acquaints us with humble beginnings, a first meeting with P Diddy, and his rom-com guilty pleasure.

Damon DeGraff, CEO of DGI Management, on his secret career aspirations, Bermuda, and why Russell Simmons is the man.

You know you’ve been around for too long when you start interviewing the offspring of people you used to know. Add up all that "Uncle Stevie" talk and the obligatory "legend" rap (which I guess is better than being called an ass), and I feel like I’m due any second for a mid-life crisis. If I didn’t already have Nicole, my beautiful 21-year-old girlfriend, I’d surely have to get myself one of those. DJ Cassidy is a solid young man, as is his dad, uber-agent Johnny Podell. Cassidy reminds me of Mark Ronson a few years back; he’s super cool, well-mannered, extremely talented and always respectful. We talked about his upbringing, his obsession with rewatching videos of his own birthday parties, and a sad thank-you fax that never got answered.