AJ Dance Legacy

LOU GORBEA

 Crossroads is defined by a road that crosses another road, or a road that runs transversely to main roads.*

“Please Stand By” reads the words painted on the wall.    Around the corner, patrons sit at the bar, two pool tables entertain folk, “Pulp Fiction,” plays on several monitors, tired butts sit on couches, and a kid’s horsy ride sees no action.  Over here hangs HD plasmas.  Overhead hangs shiny disco balls.  Over there hangs a speaker monitor from the ceiling.  On the wall behind the DJ booth a graphic novel’s storyboard of love-scorn characters is painted, adjacent that wall freighting abstract heroines pose, as a painted naked anime girl blows a kiss from the DJ booth.  The room with entirely too much activity, dance floor is completely empty.

A pillar of afro house blesses the lifeless floor.  Where is everyone?  Perhaps viewing the event’s live stream video in comfort on a laptop at home.  The time reads eleven thirty.  By the time the hour hand strokes midnight the crowd peaks to forty-something.  A wandering eye questions is this as good as the attendance will get?  Yes. 

Techie synths, Latin percussions and sacred rhythms gather brave sojourners to join the dance ritual. This sacrament comes courtesy from the minister of sound DJ Ausar.  Neither rare or common, the mouth covered DJ runs onto the floor, dances, and returns to the DJ booth to cue the next song.  This is all a night of fun for the city’s Kalakuta radio show host.  However, his night of fun is not without technical difficulties. 

“Stop Jealousy,” by Boddhi Satva featuring Ze Pequino (Culoe De Song Kamnguni Remix), the final song in Ausar’s blessing, sets the place ablaze.  That is, until the song lives up to the first word in its title and comes to an abrupt stop.  Please, not again.  Where Ausar drops the ball is where the night’s guest headliner from New York City picks up.   

Sugar Groove’s guest DJ, producer and remixer extraordinaire always manages to bring the “WOW” to the event.  Anyone for electric guitars that scream over afro house, acoustic guitars that pluck sweet goodness from melodic harmonies, pulsating bass lines that transform into staccato jabs of Latin percussions, a Hammond B-3 that takes the track to church and piano keys that play a dazzling sound spectacle worthy of the world’s tenth wonder?  Then look no further than Louie “Lou” Gorbea.  The man knows his music. He knows instruments.  This is his crossroads of diverse sounds.    

Whew.  The music starts.  Lou sheds his jacket, adorns his bald head with a Crossroads shroud much like the ceremony of a minister robing before delivering a sermon.  Lou’s sermon starts with a fiery blast of energy, equivalent to a preacher’s heaven and hell brimstone tactics.  Except, DJ X-Trio provides the brimstone. The “Africa” track pumps at 125 beats per minute leaving behind the previously afro house tracks at speeds of 120 BPMs.  Wait one minute as dancing feet play catch up. 

The minister of music delivers an uplifting message of vocals and soul-stirring music form the global unity anthem of Black Coffee featuring Hugh Masekela’s “We Are One,” to the Elements of Life featuring Josh Milan’s optimistic “Children of The World (Dub),” to the old-school gospel-esque Joe Smooth featuring Anthony Thomas’ “The Promised Land.”    

Trouble brews.  Just like a thief in the night, the enemy sends in a distraction.  Here comes Jezebel.  She is dressed in a black bustier and black knee high boots.  She walks up to the DJ booth to deliver a message to the minister.  “Turn down the bass.”  Jezebel commands before turning around and walking into a chained cage where the distraction decides to put on a show.  Epic fail.  This is no burlesque.  Ain’t nobody got time for that. 

The bass plays “ a whomp, a whomp, a boom” and the music continues.  Pop pusher Lana De Rey sounds innocent yet willing singing “Video Games” over an afro house treatment.  One of the party’s surprise treats.  Some dancers cheer; other dancers are distracted.  The beguilement abounds; conversations, laughter, friendly pranks, actor Samuel L. Jackson’s horrible jheri curl wig, Jezebel gyrating in the chained cage and the hotties mounting white horses.  The room becomes a circus.  Sadly, the music becomes muddled, lost in translation.  That is…..

Until DJ Swift’s, of Sugar Groove, laptop driven music set, surprisingly, places the focus back on the music.  An on the fly remix of “golden voice” Akram Sedkaoui’s on Jerk House Connection’s “Each and Every Day (Life Goes On), with the bass, middles and highs from Maya Jane Cole’s “Simple Things” brought feet dancing back to the floor.  Swift rewinds time playing not one but three Dennis Ferrer’s anthems from yesteryear; Joey Negro presents the Starburst Band’s “Journey to The Sun” (Dennis Ferrer Remix), “Church Lady” and “P 2 Da J.”  NYC’s club Shelter knocks on Atlanta’s club Shelter door with Jill Scott’s “Rolling Hills” (Shelter Mix).  The 1999 tribal banger, Men From The Nile’s “Watch Them Come” takes the dancers around the world to close the party.   

The party had its share of challenges, some expected and others not so expected.  Sadly, the venue kills the vibe. No wonder the attendance slacks.  Sugar Groove must be at a crossroads.  The question begs further growth away from the venue or a slow death at the venue.          

Words and photography by AJ Dance

*Dictionary.com

Kemi Bennings the artistic creator of Ministers of Sound the photography exhibit that showcases the role of DJ as minister, stopped by ajdancelegacy.com for a mini-view.  Read the curator’s powerful responses in regards to this mind-altering exhibit.

MINISTERS OF SOUND

1. How did the concept of Ministers of Sound, spotlighting DJs as ministers, come about?

The concept for Ministers of Sound came as a result of my late father, Rev. Hardy S. Bennings, Jr., who was a minister and beloved community leader.  My deep connection with my father catapulted the development of an art project that would also serve as my healing process through what I consider my ministry, the arts. I envisioned a community project that would move, touch and inspire others, pay tribute to my late father and salute a group of unsung heroes. The unsung heroes are DJs in the community that has impacted the lives of so many people for over a decade.

2. Do most DJs believe they serve a role when playing music?  Or do they simply play music?

Not all DJ’s recognize themselves as “ministers of music.” Therefore, they choose to play music that wreaks havoc on the spirit.  This in return causes chaos and destruction.  Yet, even in that music the undertones, beats, and rhythms are sacred.  I believe this sacredness should take precedence in the music a DJ chooses to play.   Thus being responsible for how the music and lyrics are combined to send out a message.

 3. Can you share one specific memory when a DJ took you to church using the vehicle of music?

A memory that took me to church is when I found house music.  When I found house music, I found the “church” again. I feel that the overall sentiment of house music is spiritual and meant to inspire.  There is very little, if any, house music I have encountered that is destructive.

4. How can a DJ impress its followers to serve his/her community?

I believe that first the DJ has to realize the power that he or she possesses and the importance of it as it relates to serving the community. Impress? That word could be a bit relative; I think it lies in the responsibility of the DJ to uplift and move the crowd in such a way that the music feeds the soul and inspires. Music possesses sacred powers.  The DJ may serve up a tune that you didn’t consciously know that you needed, but as soon as the music dropped it affected your mind, body, and spirit in an overwhelmingly way, evoking an “unspeakable joy”.

 5. Any plans to make this a traveling photography exhibit?

Travel plans?  I feel that there are many possibilities because of the vital dialogue this exhibit creates.  I’m truly being guided here and following the arrows. Honestly, at this moment, I only see February 24th.

Ministers of Sound, takes place at the Sound Table 483 Edgewood Avenue SE. Atlanta, GA on Sunday February 24, 2013 from 5 pm to 8 pm EST.  The event is free to the public.  For more information visit www.ministersofsound.com

Where is the Love? 

The City That Abandoned Funky House

Bye bye.  The city’s funky house music days are done.  For a city that is too busy partying, it sure does know how to kill a scene.  Namely, funky house music, the sub-genre of house music.  For those that missed funky house music’s obituary and its home-going service in this city, please, read on.

Obituary

Our beloved funky house music transitioned to the heavens.  The music that once captured devoted hearts and lifelong fans in this city may be gone but its memories will never be forgotten.

Funky house music was the life of the party.  However, its sound was no one-man show but a contemporary that was influenced by the unexpected.  Its friends; boogie, disco, funk and R n B all contributed to its song.  Vocals, television theme shows and rap lyrics performed its message.    Funky’s love for electronic synthesizers, heavy samples and soulful bass lines defined its character and established its charisma. 

Birthed on Chicago’s North Side during the decade of excess, funky house was one of house music’s many children-ghetto house, juke house and acid house-to birth during the cities electronica renaissance. The noughties secured funky house music’s global popularity thanks, in part, to the westward expansion of Chicago’s house music DJs and America’s rave culture.  Funky hosue music continued its reign throughout the close of the twentieth century and into the early twenty-first century until it retreated into fragmented territories. 

Funky house music lived; edgy, energetically, vibrantly and full of life.  It paid no relevance to playing it safe or ever slowing down.  Its heartbeat pumped at 125 to 130 beats per minute.  Its pulse marched to the beat of its own drum loops of build-ups and breaks downs that resembled a kick-ass rollercoaster ride of drama.  This rollercoaster ride of drama is what kept many of players out dancing all night and playing its song till the wee hours of the morning light.  Much can be said for its demise however, one fact is certain, funky house music was loved.  Its sound is survived by parent house music and siblings, soulful house, and deep house. 

The funeral service schedule: 

Cory Benoit & William Caldwell 9 pm

Silk Wolf 10 pm

Mike Zarin 11 pm

Charles Feelgood 12 am

Cory Benoit & William Caldwell 2am till close

The Funeral Service

Can you hear the music?  When the single frame door with a putrid black paint job opened, an upbeat melody with pronounced four counts announced its presence.  The merry melody escaped captivity.  It blew outdoors where it froze in below freezing temperatures on the coldest night of the year of the snake.   

Up the stairs, “Please Stand By,” pass the lovely money collector, “Hi!!!”, pass the ID checker, “Yes, I’m older than 21” and around the corner…..

Startled!?!  The scene appeared to be a funeral that no one bothered to attend.  What happened?  Invites were distributed.  Social media websites visibly  promoted the event.  Yet, the faces of family expected to show played ghost.  The majority of the few faces, present, appeared frighteningly unfamiliar.  Had funky house music a mistress with relatives no one knew?  Damn funeral surprises.  Not surprisingly, the few supporters in attendance were scattered across the room. Only a handful bothered to dance.  A quick head count revealed only twenty bodies on the dance floor.  Throughout the room, the empty pockets of space outnumbered the guests.  

The stage was set.  Literally.  The sound system had moved from the catacomb in the room’s rear to center stage, in the front of the room, sitting in a coffin on a table.  The change of set-up occurred to accommodate two 18 speaker bottoms and a fog machine.  The fog machine sprayed the room as a faint whiff of carcinogens roamed by.  Shining underneath one of the two disco balls, the position of the coffin proved noteworthy.  Funky house music seemed to nod with approval.  Additional space onstage meant greater crowd intimacy and allowed the crowd greater voyeurism.

 DJ Mike Zarin, dressed in vintage 4Deep garb, rocked the casket of equipment energetically with a funky house tribute not heard from him since his early 4Deep days playing at Connect parties.  How appropriate, Tranzlife’s “Heart Attack” played soundtrack to the grief- stricken fiasco.  At least two supporters tried to make the best of the situation, responding with handclaps and out of this world dance moves.    

The hour hand ticked ever so closer to midnight.  The bug that buzzes with excitement dropped dead.   Without hype and little fanfare, the event’s guest headliner appeared onstage wearing a suave black leather jacket that would later come off to reveal two sleeves of tribal tats.  The man appeared armed and dangerous. 

The guest DJ, from southern California, bio reads like a champion of funky proportions.  The “Time To Get Ill” mixtape producer is responsible for putting funky house music on the map in the east coast cities of Baltimore and Washington D.C. alongside then partner DJ Scott Henry during house music’s heyday in the 1990’s.  His production and remix credits include a who’s who list in the electronic dance world that spans decades and garnered hundreds of fans.

Currently, his name is Charles Feelgood, yet a few remembered when he was simply, “Feelgood.”  To make the people feel good is what the maestro set out to do.  For the two hours that followed, Charles Feelgood would deliver nothing short than a stellar musical eulogy to his soul buddy number one, funky house.   

Enter the band Rufus & vocalist Chaka Kahn singing “Any Love” that partied over a bed of sliced disco house that ascended to heavenly heights.  A few that recognized the classic showed love with vocal praise.  Jamaroquai stopped by. The blue-eyed soul delivered the funk with “All Good In The Hood.”   Bay area bred, Oakland, CA fed, DJ Mes provided disco-drenched beats that bumped and wobbled not only the subwoofers, but dancing feet.  Rescue’s mega-hit, “Every Freakin’ Day,” that samples 1990’s R n B legends, Jodeci’s, “Every Freakin’ Night” proved too predictable during the tribute.  Feelgood’s D.C. buddies, 95 North’s alias, Johnny Corporate stopped by.  Their song “Sunday Shoutin,’” that samples Atlanta’s own Brick, “Living From The Mind,” put the church into the house.  People shouted and danced.  This spectacle would generate the most action the dance floor would see for the rest of the night.    Stop!  The four-on-the-floor gave way for a slower urban groove as guitar strings plucked over softer drums.  The red carpet was rolled out and the velvet rope pulled back for reality television’s latest diva, Toni Braxton’s “You’re Makin Me High.”  The 1995 Atlanta-brewed jam felt underappreciated and went unnoticed.  The dance floor’s census dropped, twelve to five.  Feelgood brought his hype men.  A man, standing over six feet, stood onstage and played music director with animated arm thrusts leading the crowd to sing Stevie Wonder’s “Do I Do.”  The 1982 scorcher, and the party’s “That’s my song,” played at high speeds, minus a house beat, with the song’s original drums and percussions left intact.  Certain segments of the song were looped for dramatic effects.  The re-edits only miss, Dizzy Gillespie’s arousing trumpet solo.     Again disco, George Benson’s “Give Me The Night” (Instrumental), constructed the groove to funky house beats.  Orchestra strings and blaring trumpets dotted the landscape of funky house’s grandmother the late, disco.  Fragmented vocals sliced in syncopated sound bites created a heated disco chant.  Basically, Diana Ross’ vocals sung “Burnin” over and over and over again.  Next Feelgood dropped the music to allow the vocals to play.  This is a DJ’s non-verbal cue for the audience to sing along.  The late Whitney Houston sung. “I Wanna Dance With Somebody/With Somebody Who Loves Me.”  The dispersing crowd showed no love.  More or less they seemed clueless.  The late icon, MJ’s chops were chopped on “Rock With You.”  The song was a floor burner equipped with hard core analog thumps that played proud and loud but Mike’s vocals abruptly disappeared without any reason.    Teddy Pendergrass “Get Up, Get Down” uplifted the party.  The late legend sang, “Do You Want To Party?” 

Over walked a drunken female.  “C’mon dance,” she slurred.  By the end of Feelgood’s set her ass would smack the wooden dance floor.  Oops.  Yes, everyone would see it.  And sorry, no one would care to help her up.             

By two am, the handful of scattered few danced around like there was no problem or care in the world.  Actually, everyone felt good and drunk.  One person took being intoxicated too far; a woman dressed in a black blouse with black lace trimmings and blue denim had her head smashed down on the table asleep.  Sign of the times: funky house music was dead, at least in this city.         

Somewhere in the arms of time, the motto: for the love of funky house music, died.  As one pallbearer stated, “We tried.”  In the city too busy complaining, “Where is the funky house music and I feel like some funky house music tonight,” all one can do is to try.  Sadly, in the end trying was not enough.  The music sub-genre that once carried, through life’s joys and pains, on its back a family of loved supporters, dancers and DJs bothered not to show face or support.  Guess they bothered not to read the writing on the wall.          

Words and photography by AJ Dance   

MASTER KEV

     There are a lot of people here! (pause) Not dancing.

Seven years earlier a gift enriched this magnificent metropolis.  At a time when many soulful/deep house music gatherings danced on the edge of extinction one man stepped out from the ashes to heed the call.  His name Ramon, his moniker Rawsoul, his vision The Gathering, hit the city’s underground soulful house community with a much-needed punch.  Naysayers and haters were wary; the dedication to helm a party, in the city too busy partying to even care, was no small feat.  The Gathering weathered storms.  Gone its former abodes; the warehouse, a studio, a coffee shop, and a restaurant’s basement all traded for the cozy confides of a restaurant’s Space2.  Successfully, since conception the party has hosted a wide spectrum of DJs plus cultivated a family atmosphere of house music lovers.  Over the course of time, one essential element remains intact, The Gathering is love.

Nestled within the walls of Space2, at The Gathering’s seven year bash, the love in the air spells w-e-l-c-o-m-e.   Warmth radiates from family faces collecting dollars at the door.  However, out of concern, a word of encouragement is uttered.  A further walk into the venue unfolds a curious manifest.      

Their accents speak louder than words.  His southern drawl from Music City USA and hers the thick throat finesse from France. Furry vests paired with ties dot the room.  A bare mid-drift walks by.  Despite the outdoor’s temperature reading thirty-six degrees, indoors the temperature hovers at seventy-five degrees.  Heat blasts on those gathered.  One kid dances in between and out of the dense throngs of hot flesh.  His drunken behavior is such that he bursts several party balloons-that decorate the premises-for what must be some form of amusement.  Bartender, no more PBR’s for this fella.  Despite the shenanigans the party is at a standstill-much like bumper-to-bumper traffic on 285. 

However, there is no stalled hooptie or no twenty car pile-up.  Just a bunch of bodies parked on the dance floor.   In semi-circle fashion, like at a drive-in theater except “Everyone’s Favorite Photographer” John Croom’s visuals from the Gathering’s past seven years provides the entertainment.

Piano keys play staccato style that run amuck, orchestrated strings twirl to climatic heights, as a warm melody approaches.  Anyone for Lil’ Louis,’ “Fable?” (Denise).  No one answers.  No one moves.  Hometown hero Kai Alce tirelessly works the musical dashboard to deaf ears.  Eyes of every shade of hue stare expressionless, as if hypnotized, at the slideshow splattered on the unfinished plastered wall.  Folks this ain’t no Peven Everett concert.  Next, the NDATL headphone wearer tries to make the audience feel “special.”  Fail.  All eyes continue their obsessive loyalty to the wall of holes.  Must be the crowd is stuck in neutral.  Kai slams the brakes, jams the musical gear shift into reverse, and heads into classic house territory.  No one cares.  The dumbfounded stares continue.  The slideshow repeats for the umpteenth time.  C’mon.  Really?.?  Can the Scottish duo the Nightcrawlers’ “Push The Feeling On” (MK Club Mix) save the party?  Perhaps.  Slowly, a handful of feet shuffle.  The zombie like trance might wear off.  Maybe signs of life on the floor will show.  Season soul sensation Donnie’s “Olmec Save Us” (Yoruba Soul) into the mix and bam!!!  The party is off to a late start.     

After midnight, DJ turned Chef Sir Thomas honors The Gathering with a vanilla icing chocolate cake. 

“Happy Anniversary To You, Happy Anniversary To You, Happy Anniversary To The Gathering, Happy Anniversary To You.”  The crowd should sing.  But they don’t.  

Suddenly a figure wearing a checkered cap, dressed in a blue tee, and blue denim appears onstage.  The crowd grows silent and rushes to the front of the DJ stage.  The figure alongside Ramon Rawsoul and Kai Alce inspects the DJ equipment.  Two Pioneer CD players.  Check.  One Technics 1200 turntable.  Check.  A state-of-the-art mixer.  Check.  The figure’s hand steadily plugs a USB into the left Pioneer’s port.  This action confirms all systems ago.  The dashboard’s control panel comes to life.  The time is nigh. 

The figure needs no introduction.  He’s the DJ’s DJ.  West Coast house music pioneer, Marques Wyatt dubbed him “the brutha from another mutha.”  The DJ/producer/remixer is constantly name checked on linear notes.  He is a NYC night-life legend.  He is Master Kev.     

The speed limit reads 125 BPMs.  Pistons hum. The party’s throttle kicks into high gear.  Monotonous chords that wallop against 808s come to a screeching halt. An understated drum kick starts.  Vocals whisper “Piano In The Dark.”  This is Nick Curly’s haunting groove remixed by the Yoruba Soul purists.  Oddly, DJ Master Kev plays the opening number at safe speeds of 120 BPMs.  Shifting into 3^rd gear, Jill Scott’s “Crown Royal” (Timmy Regisford & Quentin Harris) heavy bass line blasts onto the soundscape.  Surprise! Don’t expect to sing “Crown Royal on Ice.”  This is the instrumental.  One dancer yells, “More vocals.  More vocals.”  Her wish is Master Kev’s command.  Instead of Jilly from Philly singing, her contemporary, the late Luther Vandross sings one of his classics over the T&Q treatment.  It’s a two-for-one creation, the mashups, that DJ Master Kev is widely known to unleash and wreck havoc on crowds.  Vocals courtesy of Honeycomb’s Josh Milan produced by Japanese house head Namy’s “From Now On” rides over a dirty house beat that pumps at higher speeds.  The premier of hometown wunderkind Salah Ananse with newcomer Paul Vincent on vocals “Toxic” (Salah Ananse Afrique Electrique Dub) shifts the room into a feverish fit not registered prior that night.  The dancers summon the ancestors as they writhe on the floor.  Homage to producers in the house continues with DJ Roland Clark’s spoken words on DJ Le Roi’s “I Get Deep,” that stutters with tremolos and splits the room in two like a diced atom.  Music from South Africa’s Ralf Gum and Monique Bingham’s “Take Me to My Love” drops and explodes. Ms. Biggah Bingham’s vocals are whipped into a dizzying swirl that has the dancers dance on and on and on and on but they never catch up.  Perhaps, Master Kev tries too hard with Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams.”  The DJ drops the music to let Stevie Nicks and the crowd sing: “Thunder Happens Only When It’s Raining.”  Only, no one sings along.  The classic plays way too long and never catches on.  Oh well, maybe next time.   Rufus and Chaka Kahn show up in the mix with “Any Love” over techie vrooms.  Master Kev saves the best for last with folk guitars strumming underneath African vocals sung in native tongue.                                   

Already the digital clock reads 2:30 pm.  The Gathering’s founder, Ramon Rawsoul, appears onstage ready to control the vessel’s music.  Master Kev appears relentless to surrender.  Indeed MK does slay the room with some vocal/folk funk that is rare in these parts.  Appropriately, Ramon Rawsoul is the man of honor who best serves to close out his party.  So, the sweater & tie DJ takes the rein, adds a 4/4 count, and increases the BPMs.  He drives the music to Africa where handclaps and afro-chants dance with subtle tech.  South Africa’s Zakes Bantwini’s “Wasting My Time” (Rocco Dance Floor Mix) wastes no time slaying the dancers left on the floor.  The song’s razor-sharp synths crescendo to spill blood on the dance floor.  Music worlds collide on Usher’s “Climax” remixed by Jo’burg’s G’Sparks Spilulu. The late Nkemdilin “Kemdi” Amadiume sings on Handcrafted Soul’s “I’m Still A Dancer” to the handful of dancers left on the dance floor.  Sadly, the show must end before Byron Moore completes “Life Starts Today.”  Three am arrives; its closing time.            

Great times were had with Master Kev as camera’s flashed and gratitude was exchanged.  The Gathering was a phenomenal success.  Well attended and well executed.  The experience ranked up there on the party’s top five.  Hopefully, next time, there is more dance space and less obstructions.  DJ K Mixx’s (welcome back) subwoofers sat in a funky space, right front and center the DJ booth, not allowing those that prefer to worship at the alter to do so.  Also, here is to smoother concrete with no craters.  The dance floor had more potholes than a downtown street after a harsh winter.  Attorney Ken Nugent would say, “One fall, that’s all.”      

In the words of Ramon Rawsoul, “Other parties are like mega churches everyone goes there.  But The Gathering is like the small church you grew up in.  It’s family.” The Gathering is that and more.  The place you call home.  The place you go back to when you need the real deal.  The place you go to feel the love.       

Cheers to The Gathering’s next seven years.

Words and photography by AJ Dance