AJ Dance Legacy

Lucky I’m Black

Osunlade Gets His Flowers

“Happy birthday to you.” A chorus sings across the expanse of fluorescent and exchange.  Thereafter, an elder directs those gathered to belt the livelier soul-stirring rendition of Stevie Wonder’s “Happy Birthday.”

“People always forget the lyrics to the second verse.” Everyone’s Favorite Photographer mentions over the growing serenade.”  The time reads 9:30 pm.  Wait!  The day party was advertised to conclude at 8 pm.  Oh well.  Here we are at 9:30.  Here we are.  (more…)

OVEOUS

So what does an OVEOUS playlist sound like?  The music that Osunlade plays.  Percolating percussions.  Meditative melodies.  Ancestreal chants.  A major difference being OVEOUS spits verses, live.  Holding in hand a microphone he raps, “Find your friends on the dance floor. Or make new friends on the dance floor.”  Osunlade and OVEOUS are arguably interchangeable.  The latter having been mentored by the Yoruba priest, is a member of the Yoruba Recordings family.  Debuted as OVEOUS MAXIMUS, he first released, “I Apologize” (The Remixes) over a decade earlier.  The Ezel Remix brings back fond memories when the music selector sings, “I’m so sorry. (3X) I apologize.”  That has you mouthing along in harmony.

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OSUNLADE

2300

Twenty-five dollars cash to park! GTFOH. Betta forget about street parking too. Onward the parking quest continues. When music spills over brick edges onto black asphalt. Where groups of melanin hourglasses wearing lemonade braids with sneakers tread. Along the historic of avenues – Auburn.

This is just another hot boy summer Saturday night in these streets. Or is it? As twenty minutes later, the parking conundrum is solved. However, the question remains. Next trip drive solo, again? Or pay $90 round-trip to be chauffeured in a rideshare? Things that make you go “Hmmm.”

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Lend me your ear. To be told of what makes legends. Organic rhythm meets ancestral royalty. Playing for the divinities.

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OSUNLADE

“I NEED ONE LINE. I’M NOT LETTING ANYONE INSIDE UNTIL I SEE ONE LINE FOLKS. Shouts the familiar doorman, who is serious business, his burly body blocking the door’s entrance.  “I NEED TO SEE BARCODES [sic] ON YOUR TICKET TO ENTER.” (more…)

OSUNLADE

00.00

A brush of a shoulder here and a brush of a shoulder there detour not from the festivity at hand.  A sea of brown and beige paints the room’s canvas.  The lovely soul children have arrived.  The people pack the place.  They come ready to be baptized into the waters of deep.  Digital phones and tablets rush front and center stage with bright red buttons aglow that records movement.  Onstage busy bodies migrate to and fro as they prepare for the third coming.  The return of one of the most anticipated Ministers of Sound that has defined a musical movement for this generation’s era. 

“Tambor Party.  Let us welcome back for the third time, all the way from Greece, Mr……”   

Osunlade’s Tambor debut, three years earlier, saw the “Envision” singer share the bill with a fellow DJ from Chicago.  Talk about running upstairs and running downstairs to catch both DJs at work.  In addition, the venue’s shoebox shaped basement could not contain the crowd Osunlade commands.

One year later sees Osunlade-in support of his final house music offering ‘Pyrography’ with organic illustrations from artist Scott Marr-headline Tambor’s two-year anniversary soiree to a capacity crowd.  Peculiarly, Tambor was pushed out of the venue’s more spacious accommodation and into a smaller adjacent corner with no air-conditioning in mid-August heat.  Epic FAIL. 

This time around, team Tambor envisioned correctly and secured the event facility’s main room, come hell or high water.     

Reinvention is essential.  Not only has Osunlade’s music manifesto evolved at each Tambor but so his appearance.  Gone, the dreads traded for a military cut.  Ever present: the ear gauges large enough to punch a fist through.  Standing proud and appearing stunning in a golden tee, contrasted by a grey vest, the artist steps up to play. 

The warm cheers subside.  Quietly the people stand.  A sense of anticipation shatters the atmosphere.  An anticipation so delicate it borders on discretion.  Suddenly, a shimmering vocal sounds.  It softly dances on heads and drifts through the air.  As so, eloquent discretion begets questions.  Who is singing?  What is the title of this track?  Everyone’s response: petrified silence.  Perhaps this is no expected powerhouse anthem, but more of a soft opener wetting the people’s appetite for more to come. 

Punch the bass and hit throttle.  The music kicks into high gear with Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams” (Osunlade Mix).  Stevie Nicks never sounded so distinguished than belting notes over a deep house treatment.  The audience agrees.  They sing along.

Questionable.  Neophyte, Lana Del Rey’s “Video Games” (A Nooma Remix by Manoo) quiets the tone but keeps bodies in motion. 

BOOM!!! Afefe Iku’s “Mirror Dance” shatters the sound sphere.  The song’s vibrancy still has not lost its edge.  The crowd jumps off.  Their unbridled praise proves the Yoruba Soul Remix featuring Oveous Maximus is still relevant. 

Anyone for a slow dance?  Jill Scott’s “My Love” plays filler duties.  The Jason B Remix is a sleeping beauty that needs to stay asleep. 

“HEEEYY.” Dave Ghan screams.  The crowd awakes and stands attentive.  Depache Mode’s lead vocalist sings “Reach Out” on MasterKev/Tony Loreto and Polyrhythm’s interpretation of “Personal Jesus” against a stark beating percussion. “Reach Out And Touch Me” is what the crowd tries to do.  With arms stretched high and hands raised in the air a spiritual pilgrimage begins.

The spiritual apex ascends.  This time Atlanta’s Donnie sings “Olmec Save Us” (Yoruba Soul Mix) produced by Atlantan Kai Alce, who is in the house.  People beg, “What is the name of this track?  “Where can I download it?”

Jazzy Jeff featuring Erro’s “Rock With You” (Yoruba Soul Dub Mix) oscillates right into the hands of yesteryear.  Chicago’s “Street Player’s” brass section dazzles dancers with dynamics, Lil Louis’ & The World’s “I Called You (But You Weren’t There) provides the wit with its tell-tale of love gone wrong, and later Candido’s “Thousand Finger Man” surprises and delights and refreshes seasoned ears.

01:00

The battle of the event occurs: Jack Son’s “Thrill Her” versus Prince’s “Controversy.”  The room explodes.  People scream.  People dance.  People sweat. 

As this is the party of sweat stains.  Perspiration accents brows, drops from foreheads, runs down bare arms and decorates T-shirts.  Be careful.  Even the slippery floor sweats.    

One word describes a world-renowned DJ/producer/songwriter/singer that can slay a room with a belt-heavy of eclectic catalog hits, produced or remixed for the likes of mainstream artist Frank Ocean featuring Earl Sweatshirt’s, “Super Rich Kid” to indie repertoire Jazztronik’s, “Dentro Mi Alma.” The word is pride.  A pride that sings so loud and so clear that it demands attention.  Live and in person, singer soulstress Nadirah Shakoor does so.  She takes the stage to sing her female fueled power anthem, “Pride.”  Surprise!  No one envisioned this moment where these two musical souls, the producer and the singer, would synergize together on Tambor’s stage.  The DJ steps back; the singer steps forward.  Osunlade digs out another cohort/producer, Andy Catana’s “Ironia,” a deep/tech house four-to-the-floor treat from his 2010, “Occult Symphonic.”  From the OS to Pyrography, “Envision,” (Ame Remix) plays but right at the break where sonic beeps collide with bombastic bass the song disappears.

“Bleep, Bop”

“Bleep, Bleep, Bop”

“Errrrr”

“Bleep, Bleep, Bop”

“Ooooo, Yeee, Ooooo”

“Bloop”

“Errrr”

“Bah, Bah, Bah, Bah”  

With every “Bleep” a Bozark knob turns clockwise.  With perfect timing between intervals of FX, the sound is tweaked with skilled precision.  The spectacle displays a master of music playing Space Invaders on an Atari gaming system. 

A drum kicks.  A four count rhythm startles.  A climatic build of dizzying bleeps and bumps clash against stark fireworks.   Galactic shrills scream “Bang.”  This is the one minute opener to one of the most amazing pieces of music ever recorded.

“Fireworks”/ “Computer Games” is the song that might have made Kraftwerk uneasy.  “Computer Games” inspired the hip hop and electronic/electro age of music.  Tokyo Japan’s most successful outfit, Yellow Magic Orchestra’s opus takes the dancers on a magic carpet ride to the Far East where sound imagery intersects Asian arts.  The song-composed of strings, steel vibes, warm keys and fluttering flutes, all played on synthesizers-plays in its entire glory for seven minutes and twenty seconds.        

The party becomes a performance.  Osunlade transforms from DJ to entertainer.  He dances.  He frolics to every count, every intricate detail of rhythmic expression via instrument.  At best, Osunlade is a showman. 

“I can’t take no more.” One dancer pants.  “I’m about to pass out.”  Osunlade slays the room.  Dancers hold one another up.  Even Tambor’s banner on stage lies on the floor.   

Next, the crowd journeys along the Nile to the Motherland.  Pyramids raid the distance and camels travel on cruise control.  Listen.  The Jones Girls sings, “Nights Over Egypt.” 

02:00

Somewhere the music goes obscure between Latin rhythms of bossa nova and samba where African drums talk into the ancestral universe. 

Osunlade returns the journey back to a safe destination, his Yoruba Soul catalog.  Self- produced, “Cantos A Ochun Et Oya” and Erro’s “Don’t Change” (Main Mix) segue into remixed classics for the likes of Tortured Soul with “I Might Do Something Wrong” (Osunlade Lonely Remix) and the pimp-slap Vivian Green’s “Emotional Rollercoaster,” (Osunlade Late Night Mix) both nods to the early aughts. 

A slight interruption by DJ Stanzeff can’t stop the music.  Osunlade is where?  He is zoned in the mix and unable to stop playing music even if he wanted too.  Sadly, Osunlade has no choice.   The room illuminates with fluorescents.  Translation: Time To Go. 

The event’s closing number a padapella of Marvin Gaye’s “I Want You” brings out the freaks.  Several couples grind and grope one another as if this event is one large orgy.  Pheromones fill the air.  Sex is in the future for some tonight.         

The Tambor Party is known for many surprises.  But this party turned performance was the surprise of all.  From a live singer to a DJ playing three instruments called two Pioneer CD players and one Bozark.  This Tambor felt authentic, not forced, organic, not processed, yet cohesive lacking definition. 

The music fit no formula, format or flow.  The mixing of songs seemed cold.  At times, one song slammed into the next that forced the music into unexpected genres.  Why was this so?  How did this work?  Better yet, it worked!  If this had been another DJ the experience would have largely failed flat.  Word to the wise: Osunlade is often imitated but never duplicated.  

03:00

DJ Stanzeff takes hold of the microphone to announce, “Tambor let’s give a round of applause to our good friend Mr…”

“I’m freaking family!”  Osunlade interrupts.  “I’m freaking family!”

Yes, Mr. Osunlade you are family. 

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Words and photography by AJ Dance

OSUNLADE & DAVID SABAT

At 10:30 pm a line stretched from the door all the way down to the next building. Thankfully the spring night air was warm, a tad too warm for mid-June. Anxious tribesters not accustomed to waiting in lines to enter clubs waited for the party to begin. Finally, the doors swung open and in walked everyone into the cool air conditioned ground level restaurant for drinks and mingling. The crowded room was noisy, not with music but with conversations. Topics ranged from, “I can’t wait to hear Osunlade play” to “I can’t wait to meet David Sabat.” Yes, the Los Angeles and Chicago residents were booked to play Tambor during the same timeslots that night. David on the musical decks upstairs and Osunlade on the musical decks downstairs. To determine how to hear both play at the same time was a daunting task. Only a dancer with skill precision could pull this off.

The sultry sounds of DJ BE penetrated the soft lit room of eating guests and soon to be drunks. It didn’t take long before people were on the floor dancing; mine you in a restaurant, in a small space created as a pretend dance floor. Surely, people seated along the exposed brick wall aligned with tables and at the bar found it hilarious how people danced in the way of waiters and waitresses pacing between the kitchen and the bar delivering hot plates of Cajun cuisine. Yep, the dance spot was dead smack between the two. You had to watch out or you were sure to be decorated with andouille sausage and angel hair pasta.

Fortunately, everyone survived, spill proof, until the basement door’s opened about thirty minutes later. Poor DJ BE, as everyone exited the top floor in favor for the night’s main event held in the basement.

Downstairs, the nice and cool dance floor was warmed-up for what would be an adventuresome night of dance. Of course, Tambor’s founder Stan, worked the musical switchboards and tore up the room with afro-house beats. But what happened next was a frenzied blur of events. For the reminder of the party, the quest of running upstairs and running downstairs to hear both sets of DJs play; BE upstairs/Stan downstairs and David Sabat upstairs/Osunlade downstairs, consumed the entire night. More energy was spent working the stairs than actually dancing.

Not long after, the night’s premier maestro Osunlade arrived in full form to shower blessings down on the crowd of hot house heads. Osunlade stopped the music to begin his musical journey with his heavy handed produced girl power-esque, “Pride” featuring Nadirah Shakoor that sent the crowd into danceteria. The Yoruba priest continued to work the congregation with heavy doses of deep tech that had people’s hands clapping to mouths blowing whistles. The sound went much deeper and deeper into techy territory than possibly imagined but thankfully the crowd appreciated it. Out from Osunlade’s bag of beats came a remix, the one with Afefe Iku’s “Mirror Dance” sample, of the biggest songs of the year. With fists pumped in the air, people started singing the tune, chanting and screaming at the top of their lungs, “HEY HEY.” (Black Coffee’s Remix the deep house artist of the year.) Everyone jammed as one nation under a house groove.

To top that off, if that wasn’t enough, the dance floor became even more condensed as an African dance troop bombarded the floor. The tribesters danced into one another as the already too congested floor swelled with patrons pushing the tribesters back so they could view the African dancers. Yes, the young ladies with matching red, white and black ensembles worked their arms and legs into fury as one of their own banged a drum. This caused everyone to stand in awe with drooling mouths to watch the dance troop that worked the room into further frenzy.

“Damn there was entirely too much going on.” In all appreciation and not too complain, two headlining DJs, the large crowd and dance troop were a bit over the top. On that note, the congested basement was traded for the more spacious, fresh air upstairs. Even Chicago’s David Sabat managed a decent crowd of tribesters dancing between the bar and kitchen to the sounds of Dennis Ferrer’s, “p 2 da j.” There was the usual New Yorker who showcased dizzy head spins to a lady adorned in a captivating red dress fanning herself with a church fan. Yep, it appeared as though all had a great time….

Until those drenched in sweat constructively critiqued, “We need a larger venue.” Who could disagree? Tambor’s crowd had outgrown the shoebox restaurant with dance floor in the basement. Everyone had a difficult time adjusting to the throngs of bodies swaying back and forth packed tight like canned sardines. Something had to give and it had to give fast.

Photography by John Crooms

Photograph by Carlos J. Bell

Photography by Angie McVay