Jake Rudh celebrates a decade of dancing

Jake Rudh was struggling. Standing next to his car in the parking lot of Clubhouse Jäger, the DJ wrestled with a huge heap of black bags in his arms, looking like a bellhop who had gotten in over his head. It was Wednesday, and Rudh needed to get inside the North Loop bar to prepare for his weekly dance night.

In the bags? CDs. The 36-year-old prefers them over vinyl (and certainly over a laptop).

"I'm old-school, and not the sexy kind of old-school," Rudh said.

When you've DJed the same weekly night for 10 years, and it's as popular as ever, you can be whatever kind of old-school you want. Rudh's Wednesday juggernaut, Transmission, is an audio nexus where new wave, post-punk, indie, mod, glam and '80s electro meet. If David Bowie curated a dance night, it would sound like this.

To celebrate its decade run, Rudh is doing something risky: He's taking his intimate Transmission out of Club Jäger (capacity: 150) for one night only. This Friday, he'll try to fill the Mainroom at First Avenue with more than 1,500 people.

Rudh is a DJ stuck in time. And that's by choice. His taste in music is centered on the new wave era (late '70s/early '80s), and he lives in a midcentury-modern home furnished with enough vintage Craigslist accoutrements to make Don Draper swoon.

After Rudh wrangled all of his gear inside Club Jäger, he sat down with a glass of Grand Marnier and talked about his decade of DJing.

He wore white pants, white loafers and a dark polo shirt, his hair styled like classic Cary Grant.

Growing up in New Brighton, Rudh was a music nerd. "I played G.I. Joe and 'Star Wars' with all my friends, but boy, I was glued to MTV," he said. "I would sit there and catalog the videos. I would document what [MTV video jockey] Martha Quinn was playing. It was weird."

He discovered DJing while trying to become a pilot during college in Grand Forks, N.D. After losing interest in flight school, Rudh transferred to the University of Minnesota in the Twin Cities, where he started DJing at bars that appreciated his old-school vibe. He eventually transformed gigs at the Chatterbox and the Imperial Room into the night that would define his next 10 years. He named it Transmission, after a Joy Division song.

Dance, dance revolution

After bouncing from bar to bar, Transmission eventually landed at Club Jäger in 2007, where Rudh's formula and audience began to jell.

On this particular Wednesday, Transmission's reputation as one of the Twin Cities' truly cross-generational dance nights was on full display. The crowd was a mix of aging hipsters in skinny ties and twentysomethings wearing sunglasses (ironically, of course).

"Hipster. It's such a dirty word, isn't it?" Rudh said. I asked him how he would describe his crowd. "Everyone that comes to Transmission loves music," he said. While his bedrock is Brit-centric (Duran Duran, New Order, the Smiths), Rudh routinely ventures off into a diverse swath of '80s pop (Hall & Oates, Genesis, Ratt). He booked Clem Burke, the drummer for Blondie, to guest DJ at the 10-year anniversary party.

Marieka Heinlen, 38, illustrates children's books by day, but spends most Wednesday nights dancing at Jäger. Transmission brings her back to high school. "I was never invited to prom," she said, "so every time I come it's like going to prom."

The music is so potent for some regulars that it's worth driving across the state. In the crowd were Jenny Pond and Arik Williams, who made the four-hour trek from just outside of Fargo. They make the trip every few months, driving home right afterward. "All the dance nights in Fargo are country," said Pond, 28.

In the DJ booth, Rudh plays his CDs on a Numark CDMix-1, basically an embellished CD player with a cross-fader.

"Ironically, tomorrow I'm going to buy a MacBook Pro," he said. "I'm stepping up my game. I'm entering into the future -- or rather, the present."

Rudh said he'll use the laptop and its various high-tech DJ programs for wedding gigs, but always play CDs at Transmission: "There's a charm to it. I've never taken myself that seriously as a DJ, and I think that's why the night is so successful."

Don Draper would be proud

A couple of days later, Rudh invited me to check out his home in south Minneapolis. Having heard about the man's legendary love for the "Mad Men" era, I half expected him to greet me with a scotch and a Lucky Strike cigarette. (He sipped coffee and wore a Public Image Ltd T-shirt.)

The house lived up to Rudh's retro reputation, with rooms full of shag carpet, Danish-designed furniture and a den dedicated to transistor radios from the 1960s.

"This is my time capsule," he said.

Rudh's life seems nostalgically content. But it was only four years ago that it was dramatically shaken. In 2007, he was laid off from his job at Best Buy's corporate headquarters. Then in August, his fiancée, Mercedes, was driving over the Interstate 35W bridge when it collapsed. Her car fell six stories into the tangled mess below, breaking her legs and back.

"Maybe it sounds a little cliché, but be thankful for the things you have and embrace life," Rudh said. "You always hear those things. But I never thought I was going to get a phone call from my fiancée who could have been minutes away from death. She called me when she was pinned in the car and they needed to have the Jaws of Life sent down to her. She's the strongest woman I know."

As time passed, Mercedes got out of her wheelchair and went back to work. They were married in 2008. Rudh started DJing full-time and gigs began piling up. His wedding DJ business continues to grow, and he's now the go-to guy for museum parties. He also has a casual listening night, titled Music, on the first Tuesday of every month at Kings Wine Bar.

Whether it's his home or the music he plays, Rudh's tastes are perpetually looking backward. It made me wonder what he has against today.

"Nothing. I enjoy all modern conveniences," he joked. "But I am a history buff -- in life and in music. I love seeing how a certain band was formed, who they were influenced by and what influenced their influences. I dig that family tree. And I just keep going back."

thorgen@startribune.com • 612-673-7909