AJ Dance Legacy

THE TRADITION EDITION

“Guys we’re closed. The DJ’s car broke down but he’s on his way. Trust me, once he arrives we will open,” mentioned the gruff, goateed gatekeeper.

The night consisted of boisterous headscarves, receded hairlines and silver beards. Not only were the afro-centrist out but so were the vanilla explorers all making their annual journey to the music Mecca. Every walk of life from every part of town would join the ranks of the holy land’s pilgrimage. It was MLK weekend. Sunday night’s meeting place was MJQ and the night’s destination was Freedom Village.

MJQ, the dark, dingy and shady underground shack trapped in the middle of a retail business complex of shops and restaurants, sat hidden from the naked eye. The club’s main entrance and main room were closed off for the night. After all, it was the Sabbath and bars were normally closed due to dry Sunday sales. However, MJQ’s Café, the second room; a space no larger than the interior of one of those shoebox shaped automobiles was the night’s party bus. In the room barely lit by red strobe lights, a 3 by 6 feet DJ booth was perched against the front wall. Underneath a painted ceiling a lone disco ball shimmered over a wooden floor which was practically empty with dancing feet. Along the left side of the café sat a drab bar, with no flashy wall mirror or glass liquor bottles, that entertained most of the room’s guests. Besides the single bartender that bounced back and forth in delight of patron’s tabs and tips, not much kept the eye inspired. Except for the door-less unisex bathroom area towards the room’s rear equipped with three stalls that actually received more business than the bar. Uhmmmm.

In the heart of the dance floor, a few guys chatted with beers in hands while a couple of gals danced with each other. Although the pilgrimage started out with a handful of gatherers, this would soon change as additional pilgrims joined those in rank dancing on the floor. Alas, the musical journey was set to begin.

Cullen Cole with 1970’s porn-stache, of former MJQ Deep fame, started the night’s bon voyage traveling southbound on Deep House Lane. Cullen provided the sounds that were not only soft on the ears but easy on the feet. The grooves, so deep and mellow, cleverly blasted from large speakers with clear and precise sound. Every knock, beep and burp could be heard within an ear split of the audio equipment set about the place. There was one large speaker and subwoofer positioned in the front of the space near the DJ booth and another large speaker in the back of the room near sitting benches. Whoever hooked up the sound system did one heck of a job to ensure massive eargasms of auditory delight. No one would have any qualms about traveling the distance, if these sounds accompanied the trekkers.

The musical journey was off to a rave start. Twenty or so minutes later, the box was completely packed from wall to wall with bodies in motion. There barely existed breathing room. The room became so hot it felt more like a mass Hebrew exodus from Egypt in the summer’s hot desert sun than a winter night out in a club.

Before long the smooth sounds of deep house gave way to afro-beat. Unbeknownst, the legendary DJ Kemit was behind the dashboard and made a mad left turn onto Afro-Beat Parkway. With the volume turned up to full blast, Kemit kept the Fela Kuti coming to a room of hyper-acting-like children in the backseat of a car on a long voyage before being released at a fast food restaurant’s play area. People stood up on benches, threw their arms in the air and roared like jungle lions. WTH?

As if that weren’t enough, DJ Kemit had the audacity to make a sharp right onto Disco Drive as BT Express, “Peace Pipe” poured from the box’s speakers. An escalating stream of hoots, hollers and whistles let loose. Once again, the crowd went absolutely bonkers and displayed a mad scene of bedlam.

The excitement didn’t subside as Michael Jackson commanded the crowd to, “Get On The Floor” and dance with him. Within the song’s disco break, lil’ sister Janet arrived and took control with “Go Deep” (Masters At Work Thunder Mix). The song’s spiritual flute played under Dr. Martin Luther King’s famous proclamation, “I have A Dream.” With a slow fade the music disappeared into oblivion as Dr. King’s vocals were the only sounds left standing in the room of rousing handclaps and stunned visages. One would have thought the people had reached their destination, Freedom Village, but they were a plenty miles away. So the music continued with Donnie’s, “Holiday.”

Like a pillar of fire by night, DJ Kemit continued to lead the voyagers eastward on Funk Avenue before making a quick right south on Soul Boulevard. The multi-ethnicity crowd followed suit and haphazardly danced and sung through the skyscraper laden city streets of Music Town, for they knew their music maestro would lead them to safe pastures.

However for some, a dose of fresh air was greatly needed. Some experienced car sickness and needed a quick, ‘catch my breath.’ Honestly, the box was just too hot with heat and sweaty bodies, not to overlook the gray cloud of cigarette smoke that hovered over the crowd.

After a quick cigarette break for some and a burst of fresh air for others while dancing in the café’s foyer, the crowd danced off Soul Boulevard and onto Interstate 101 a.k.a. House Music Highway. Percussions from talking drums lightly banged as a female’s voice thundered from the heavens that welcomed the trekkers to Dennis Ferrer’s, “The Red Room.” One quick glance around revealed that the pilgrims were in the red light district of town. Hooray!!!

The sweet scent of sex permeated the air. A soft touch, gentle rub or warm hug from someone meant more than a friendly “hello.” Such gestures were masked with carnal sexual desires. Throughout the free(k) zone, flesh groped flesh, groins gyrated against waists and wet kisses were exchanged with total strangers. Yes, the freaks were in the house.

After exiting the over-charged red light district, DJ Kemit dropped one of the many ‘WTH’ music surprises of the night. That of a smooth four-count beat resonated from the three giant speakers positioned throughout the room to the rescue of Stevie Nicks on vocals. It was “Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac.

“I can’t believe he’s playing this,” mentioned some guy with dreads walking in the room right before he joined the others singing the chorus, “Thunder Happens Only When It’s Raining.” Once again, DJ Kemit bought out the smile in everyone. But wait a minute. Was that Moloko’s, “Sing It Back” accapella riding over a gritty house beat?

Not long after, Kai Alce former resident of MJQ Deep Saturday nights, took over the musical steering wheel that led the people to Freedom Village by way of Old School House Highway to Disco Drive. The appearance of Freedom Village was left open to individual interpretation. The destination was more spiritual than physical; a sort of state of mind that could be intangibly reached rather than tangibly touched. Whatever its shape or form, the people enjoyed its every offering of love outpoured through music and expressed through dance. Upon their arrival, the people danced like never before. They danced harder, their feet moved at lightning speeds and sweat poured from faces faster than torrential rains. Someone please, help the guy off the ceiling; things were getting crazy.

Abstract Truth’s and Monique Bingham’s, “We Had A Thang” (Matty’s Deep Dub) refreshed the over-heated with cool rhythms, a sultry horn solo and jazzy vocal scats that kept the crowd wanting more. Mr. Kai Alce granted such requests with his recently NDATL release, “I Got Life” by Kemetic Just with Terrance Downs on the mic. The pied piper didn’t stop there but took the congregation to church with his upcoming DJ Rowland Clark remix of the “I sing because I’m free” gospel anthem, “Sparrow.”

The wooden dance floor was besieged with several dance circles as people watched bodies dropping on the ground to do the splits. There was the usual guy hand standing with one hand, completely upside down. Talk about balance. Some even caught the Holy Ghost as English caps fanned the hot air while others jumped up on benches to dance in the spirit. The journey had become a free expression for all to celebrate freedom through any vehicle of choice.

Once Freedom Village was reached the crowd began to thin out, which meant more dance space. Soon, Cullen Cole returned to helm the vessel and dropped a furor of beats that kept the dancers on fire. After a captivating night of a peaceful journey to celebrate freedom, the house lights slowly conquered the former dark space, dimly lit by red lights. The celebration had reached its end and now it was time to say ‘goodbye.’ Never would the pilgrims forget this pilgrimage to the holiest of holies. For within the music, peace, love and joy were found. Through dance, freedom was obtained and all had a right to participate. Dr. King’s speech truly illustrated that people of all walks of life, ethnicities, sexual orientations and creeds could peacefully gather and celebrate as one. “Thank God All Mighty. We’re Free At Last.”

All images captured by John Crooms January 2010, except MLK image.

House In The Park had become a musical destination for those around the globe to partake. People traveled near and far to attend; some as far away as California, New Jersey, New York, Ohio, Indiana, Tennessee, The Carolinas and Florida. Seattle, Chicago, DC, and Detroit were all in the house. One infamous social networking site even posted a couple flew all the way from Paris, France.

The weather for the day was perfect. Temperatures for the Labor Day weekend were forecast in the mid to upper 80’s. After a torrid summer the milder temperatures were highly welcomed like cold brews after mowing grass. A gentle breeze blew in the air that signaled the transition from summer to autumn. Soon to be brown leaves perched high in trees swayed from side to side in musical rhythm.

Generally the park’s lush greenery was barren but by 12:30 pm the site was populated with tents and tables as far as the eye could see. “WOW, these people are serious.”

The scene resembled something straight from the pages of magazines of popular music festivals that occur in Austin TX, Manchester TN, or Chicago IL. Nothing like this had ever existed in the city for a HOUSE MUSIC event. Folks this was for HOUSE MUSIC, not hip-hop, rock, folk or a pooh-pooh platter of all the above but for HOUSE MUSIC. To say this was unprecedented would be an understatement. Not to mention it was only twelve thirty in the afternoon and the event began at noon. These campers had to have been in the park since eight or nine that morning. Not to mention the people that slept in the park overnight. How amazing.

Past the several vendor tables selling every item imaginable from organic handmade soap to HITP paraphernalia was the park’s lone pavilion with dance floor. DJ Kemit already on deck warmed up the small smiling crowd of twenty dancing feet. After ten minutes of making rounds to speak with everyone camped in tents and grilling meats the dance floor was made way to as DJ Kemit dropped a soul fueled mix of “Hard Time for Lovers,” from a singer who channeled the late great Luther Vandross as though Luther was alive at the park. By that point the dance floor was so warmed with love it felt as though someone blessed the space prior to the event’s start. The pavilion radiated with a natural joy that cast out any naysayer’s negativity.

Shortly thereafter, DJ Kemit’s time expired on the 1’s and 2’s, HITP’s second DJ of the day stepped aboard to wreck havoc. Salah Ananse the singer/producer/DJ/ and all around entertainer, entertained the ever growing crowd with some hard core jams. Without notice the music stopped. Then the acappella voice of Tony Momrelle singing the anthem, “Star” arose from the ashes as a phoenix. It was as if the man was right there singing live from the DJ set-up. Moments later, drums and warm synth pads exploded behind the acappella which signaled it was time to get down. There were granddads stepping in the name of love with grandmothers all over the floor. There were the fancy footwork house dancers stomping all over the floor. And then there was a little boy no more than the age of two creating a masterpiece of artwork using various colors of chalk on the pavilion’s floor. It was only one o’ clock in the afternoon and already HITP was off to a collage of activity.

As if that were not enough, Salah played a hand crafted organic remix from one of the city’s most spirited visionaries who was a self-proclaimed android from the future. The singer, signed to one of the world’s leading hip-hop mogul’s record label walked the “tightrope” between both worlds of the underground and the mainstream. The remix so cleverly orchestrated bridged the gap between the female’s futuristic rap vocal laid over a present-day broken beat drum loop that culminated to deliver a vocal melancholy of funk.

At best there was no stopping or at least slowing down Salah who was on fire by blessing the crowd with additional unleavened self-produced productions fresh from the studio. There was the “I Need You” dub to the soulful drenched testament of love’s healing power. It took no time for the crowd to strengthen in numbers as they partook in the oratory delight.

What happened next was nonetheless miraculous. Salah esteemed the crowd with an Atjazz production titled, “Mercyless” from San Fran’s Fred Everything. The song’s hook “merciless” sung over razor slashing synths and a beat so choppy the song practically needed its own pair of chopsticks pronounced it was time to dance. A slew of shouts surged through the air to greet the arrival of people rushing or dancing to the dance floor. Soon, everyone and their momma was on the dance floor digging deep to find dance moves to accommodate the choppy beat. There were video cameras filming the choreography and cameras flashing at individuals losing their minds. Everyone was ranting and yelling as if recently tasting music for the first time. The only disappointment was the talking MC announcing the news of a lost little boy at the front information desk over the soulful “woohoo hoo hoo” of Wayne Tennant’s vocals.

Damn, what a great way to disrupt the positive flow and the musical energy with negative news. Unfortunately, no one seemed to bat an eye at the missing child announcement because five minutes later the MC was back with microphone in hand making a second announcement, then a third, followed by a fourth and so on. Where were the child’s guardians or parents at? Sadly, HITP was a perfect place to drop off an unwanted crying one year old infant by older teenage siblings, an irresponsible babysitter or just plain wayward parents. Unfortunately, by the sixth announcement no one had claimed the little toddler. In what was no surprise the city’s police threatened to call DFAX. The crowd applauded and yelled with approval. It was high time someone stepped up and claimed responsibility. Actually the legitimate threat worked because within five minutes someone claimed the child but not without another announcement; this one for a lost little girl in a pink top and blue skirt.

PLEASE, EVERYONE WITH CHILDREN; MONITOR YOUR CHILDREN BECAUSE MUSIC INTERRUPTIONS ARE BEGINNING TO UPSET THE CROWD. Thankfully the little girl was quickly found and no additional “missing children” reports were noted for the reminder of the event. Sigh.

Notable music stand outs included Culoe De Song’s, “Gwebindlala” dropped by Ramon Rawsoul. Thandiswe Mazai’s feminine afro chants over a minimal driven afro-beat drove HITP to Africa’s deep jungles. DJ Mick’s Culoe De Song Interpretation of Gladys Knight’s and the Pips retitled, “The First To Say Goodbye” secured itself as the deep house anthem of the year. What a surprise when Kai Alce, the city’s local legend dropped St. Germain’s, “Rose Rouge” a jazzy house classic from the year 2000. It was said the crowd in the pavilion went crazy; absolutely bananas. It was nothing like seen or heard previously that day. Everyone fell into a trance possessed by some hypnotic force which caused them to bend over with arms outstretched while hoots and hollers vomited from their mouths.

By 8 pm, beating drums besieged the park to announce another HITP journey had reached its destination. There was a drum circle of several individuals dressed in African attire dancing around drummers banging talking drums that beckoned individuals to sweet somber. There were the faces of little girls and adults fixated with smiles speaking the same language of dance and love. What sheer delight. Long after the digital music stopped and the electronic CD players and mixer were neatly packed away in tight coffins the organic drums continued to play. Their message spoke, “Good night to all. Peace, blessings and prosperity. God bless.”

Photography by Carlos J. Bell

Photography by Carlos Bell

Photography by Angie McVay

Photography by John Crooms