RON TRENT/ TRINIDADIAN DEEP/ NAPPY G 21.05.10

RON TRENT/TRINIDADIAN DEEP/NAPPY G

After several long minutes the doors to the basement’s dance floor/lounge and bar opened. The long dark narrow stairway gave way to a dark overly frozen air conditioned basement which was needed because once the throngs of various tribesters arrived the room would become hot as hell’s kitchen. The soulful driven house grooves traversed through the air that greeted every tribester’s heart with love. Since the floor was desolate, immediately a spot was found to warm up the tired feet that were still exhausted from last night’s dance-a-thon with Louie Vega and wifey Anane’s musical madness. The two sore feet slowly stumbled with hesitation to move to the groove. Actually, it took five or so minutes before the feet fully warmed up to the beats exploding from the speakers.

Up above, perched high in a glassless window in the wall, DJ Stan’s head weaved and bobbed behind the control panel. Those soulful house anthems dropped like liquid nitrogen bombs on the few dancers warming up the floor. That wouldn’t last long as the floor quickly swelled at an alarming pace. Within twenty minutes the vacant dance space would read occupied. So the most had to be made with what little space was left. Sure enough, thirty or so minutes later, people were pinned against the walls unable to move and barely able to breathe.

Adjacent the left wall, played a live percussionist, Turn Tables On The Hudson’s, Nappy G all the way from NYC. The drummer’s small stage, consisting of a 21 square foot low platform table further downsized the already too tiny dance floor. It was going to be one of those shoulder to shoulder nights.

As the night’s first guest DJ, Trinidad bred, Trinidadian Deep jumped on deck to play, some fresh air was greatly needed. Not only fresh air but maybe some open space to freely move about. Oddly, everyone that entered the narrow basement seemed to run towards the front of the room, right in front of the DJ booth as if to touch the helm of Jesus garment or to receive a FREE CD. WTH? Okay, this was the dance floor but did someone forget to inform these individuals there was no empty space. Of course, no had to tell them because they could plainly see there was no empty space to maneuver about. Not to mention, an overweight lover and his boney girl decided to “plop” themselves right in front of yours truly further pushing me up against a brick wall.

As the deep beats of afro-house penetrated the room a safe space free of bodies was found in front of the basement’s bar towards the back of the room right where the lounge area populated with brown and white sofas and chairs begins. What relief to freely dance and breathe fresh air.

The night’s second premier talent, Chicago native, Ron Trent worked the room with heated disco and Chicago house classics from his personal music catalog. The beats steadily grew deeper and harder just the way the tribesters like until the entire room erupted with joy. Unfortunately, the shoebox shaped basement was too packed, too small and had too much going on. There were the legions of dancers, Nappy G banging away on the drums while Ron Trent played “Altered States.” So the decision was made to leave the club well before its 3 am closing time. All the noise had to be traded for some much needed recuperation and quiet rest. Overall, the night was great until the flat tire was discovered on the passenger’s rear side of my car in the club’s parking lot.

Photography by John Crooms

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