AJ Dance Legacy

CARLOS MENA
BEMBE

“In order for this to be a real BEMBE party, I need at least FIVE drinks,” announced Carlos Mena over the microphone on the platform DJ stage behind the DJ equipment.

Much can be said of an intoxicated DJ behind the music decks. While some DJs under the influence BOMB their sets-train wrecks, pressing the incorrect control knobs and spewing explicitness at the audience-others are functional and can hold their ground. For example, alcohol doesn’t prohibit CASAMENA Recordings label owner and founder, Carlos Mena from dropping BOMBs on the lovers of black music. As a matter-of-fact, alcohol naturally seems to enhance the dynamic musical makings of the Yoruba priest blessed with regale, handsome looks and Puerto Rican flair. Dressed in a sharp white stripped collared shirt that enhanced some serious black locks of hair, the amiable personality wasted no time announcing over the microphone to those gathered, “I’m drunk. If I mess up……Then I mess up.”
Sure Carlos that’ll be the day.

Underneath the hat and behind the bandanna the night’s opening music selector DJ Ausar’s two auspicious eyes watched over the capacious room. From the front door with the bar to the right-a folding table stacked with various liquors-to the exposed brick and mortar and stained walls that hid mahogany African masks in its many nooks and crannies that led to the room’s inner workings; a platform DJ stage. On the platform stage in the room’s rear DJ Ausar watched and played music for the handful of gatherers. The wooden platform panel was positioned diagonally and was half the size of that from the previous night. A set of black speakers and black subwoofers were firmly positioned between Asuar and his audio hardware. Behind the makeshift stage an Ocha Recordings and a “THAT GYRL” banner hung side by side above crimson drapery. Ausar fired off several consecutive rounds of deep house shots at the scattered crowd, clipping the dancers into bolts of shock. Their writhed bodies-possessed by the groove-two-stepped and tumbled in trance as their stunned visages announced these were the beginnings of an arrested development.

Something was abuzz in the air, a blithe force leftover from DJ Ausar. The hilarity caused zaftig rumps to shake, a wig to fall off a head and Carlos to yell, “Security get her.” When Carlos Mena took the stage to address the crowd with a humorous dissertation the attendance of souls had already grown beyond belief. The amount of bodies trapped in the space dancing in heat produced sweat that progressed to malodorous scents provoking one visiting DJ to joke he stood in one spot and smelled, “Onions! The kind [onions] that come from Vidalia in south Georgia.”

The spirit of Carlos’ acumen manifested in the musical achievements he unleashed upon the crowded room of dancers, spectators, by-standers and the curious of minds; all sojourners in the movement called house music. Musical highlights of BEMBE included; Mena’s Ocha label partner Yoruba soul priest Osunlade’s, “Envision” (Ame Acoustic Mix) accompanied with an additional undertone afro tinged beat followed by another Yoruba classic from the British dames Floetry with their commercial release, “I Want You” (Yoruba Soul Mix) successfully reworked for the underground clubs.

The night’s ambitious undertaking arrived courtesy of a series of trumpets pronouncing a chilling fright. The intro to the late great Michael Jackson’s blockbuster epic, “Thriller” had entered the room like zombies raised from the dead. A reluctant aura assumed the mass that hung balanced in the air. The people hesitated. Should they embrace or neglect the commercial appeal? The boogieman tune may have crept out from the shadows of the dark unannounced but leave it to Mr. Mena to drop some commercialism to throw everyone off their game. Anyhow underneath the surging of trumpets played a choppy afro-beat interacting with the slabs of the original song’s rhythmic guitar that made for happy feet. From the recesses of the crowd came scores of cheers, shouts and screams as voice by voice joined the outpouring of love. Vocals from the late actor Vincent Price rapped and were looped over the afro groove adding extra clairvoyance signaling this was “Thriller” (The Vincent’s Dub). Several bars later in mid-song Carlos gradually raised the mixer’s volume as Vincent’s famous cackle burgeoned into a hypnotic terror as the sounds of spiraling synths roared like diesel engines that finally climaxed to a cacophony so catastrophic the crowd could not contain themselves. People’s heads spun around in circles. Mouths spewed green goo. Eyes popped out of sockets. Naw, just kidding. However, the people jumped up and down and waved their hands in the air in frenzy formations with contortionist facial gestures. This was the real power of soul music penetrating the depths of hearts. At the heart of the scene the beat slammed to a halt and returned with the choppy percussions slicing the jabs of the rhythmic guitar. Once again the people fell back into fits of dance. From there the afro-beat rode off into the jungles of the “Bright Forest” the South African anthem from up and comer Culoe De Song. The song reaped additional havoc in the room. One skilled dancer dropped to the floor while others screamed, “Stop! I can’t take no more.”

Please, give the people a breath of fresh air. And some water please. Really? Like that was going to happen. More barrage ensued from Honeycomb Recording’s Josh Milan titled, “Your Body” (Louie Vega EOL Mix) and of course Carlos’ own remix of Nina Simone’s, “See Line Woman” (CASAMENA Basement Mix).

The night had its share of hiccups. Hiccup number one: sometime earlier during the energized set a speaker on the left side of the stage blew out. Not that anyone really noticed except the unequivocal Mr. Mena that admitted the acoustics weren’t all that great. Hiccup number two: right in the middle of a smooth jazz house number the music abruptly came to a halt. The intoxicated priest had accidently hit the wrong button and apologized, “Oops. I fudged up. My bad.”

Another choppy break beat bounced underneath razor sharp synths that sliced the room in two. From the mouths of babes shrilling squeals besieged the bedlam environment. The punchy sounds of west coast houser Fred Everything featuring Canadian vocalist Wayne Tennant’s, “Mercyless” the Atjazz Mix wreaked additional decadence to the bellies of the already overstuffed househeads.

“Atlanta, are you still with me?” announced the eclectic dynamo as he threw rock outfit Depache Mode’s, “The World In My Eyes” (Jask Deep Burnt Sky Instrumental) into the mix. Lastly, those that were left able to dance or stand sung U.K.’s Shaun Escoffery’s anthem, “Days Like This” (DJ Spinna/Tickla Mix) at the top of their lungs. “I hate this song!” Carlos joked with a devious smile.

“But you all sound so great singing it,” and with that the song started over.

Photography by AJ Dance

PEVEN EVERETT

& The Jam Band

Space2 harkens the memories of raving in an old abandoned warehouse by railroad tracks of yesteryear. The space hinges on the border of a dilapidated makeshift and an underground dance heaven. Somewhere along the line, lacking is the polished aesthetics. That exclusive charm that delivers a punch or an interior theme that applies a namesake. Perhaps, that’s what Space2 is; a place of space without the bells and whistles. There’s not much of a bar except for a wooden table selling bottled water and basic spirits. If your taste lingers in the high-end alcohol department, then exit right to the Sound Table, the restaurant next door owned by Jeff Myers and Karl Injex. Apropos, Space2 is owned by the same establishment. Kudos to the two for realizing the palpable need for an intrinsic dance floor not decorated with dinner tables, dining chairs and a hustling wait staff. Warning. Ladies hang your head low and keep one eye to the ground. Be careful, stilettos and other sharp ended spikes might wobble sending you to kiss the pavement. Muah. The cratered concrete floor needs a quick refurbish, the exposed walls beg for a fresh coat as an exposed air duct travels busily across the ceiling as if in a mad rush to deliver oxygen to the dead. As bodies entered the minimal space there’s no missing the wooden platform stage decorated with amps, speakers, subwoofers, DJ equipment and various musical instruments. It’s clear this place is all about the music. Other elements Space2 have right are a working air conditioner and a clear audio sound system. After a few more tweaks of finesse; Space2 has the inner workings to establish itself as one of the city’s premier dance venues.

It was a wet one. Earlier rain showers had passed through the city and left a bundle of puddles and splashing waters at the Old Fourth Ward’s bustling intersection of Boulevard and Edgewood. Inside Space2 blaring horns, a groovy bass line and piercing percussions escaped the speakers. “Got Myself Together/Yeah/Gonna Get High” the lyrics from Brass Construction’s, “Movin” transitioned into “Nothing’s Been The Same/Ever Since You Came/ My Baby” the lyrics by Black Ivory’s, “Mainline.” Both oldies but goodies played to cheers and shouts and kept the dancers wet with sweat. DJ/producer/remixer/label owner Kai Alce was on the 1’s and 2’s making a musical statement of disco that morphed into classic four-count house. Then the house music was hushed in favor to make room for the night’s headliner and his guest band.

The ever outspoken Peven Everett is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re going to get. However, one thing is certain the ringmaster will keep his backup band in check. Even if the band is made up of some of the city’s finest local musicians. Clad in a black Matrix style full length jacket hanging inches well below the waist, a spring colored golden collared button down dress shirt, black draped pants and Peven’s favorite athletic shoe brand; black with gold insignia Pumas, the maestro evoked style. With a brief introduction of each band member; a drummer, a bass player, a percussionist and a keyboardist, the maestro and his musses were set to concoct some serious soul power. The drummer kick started a four-count beat with hi-hats at a comfortable pace. What a surprise as Mr. Everett launched into “Stuck” from 2006. A sea of digital imagery recorded the opening manifesto. Smiles graced faces. People cheered. They even accompanied Peven in song with vocal support. Then the issues arrived.

One of the band mates, “The I maybe blind, but I can kick some behind” keyboardist took the musical flow into an agley direction from Peven and the rest of the band members to show off some flattering keyboarding skills. The gifted musician’s fingers stroked and flowed over the black and white keys like a Stevie Wonder protege. However, Peven the visionary wasn’t feeling it. After several vocal reprimands from the vocalist (apropos in mid-song) the keyboardist stopped for a quick minute until he resumed take over duty again. Once again, Peven softly yelled with a frowned visage, “SLOW DOWN.” “STOP!!!!” “KILL THE KEYBOARD.” Epic Fail as the keyboardist carried on as if no one uttered a single restraint. On a later song, the “Put Your Back Into It” singer hushed all instruments except for the drums. Peven wanted to let his vocals shine over the drummer’s mid-tempo thump. However, the keyboardist caught up in his own world continued to produce a scatting rhythm unbeknownst to the silent instruments. So the amiable bass player stepped into action and stood alongside the keyboardist to offer considerate advice. Nope, that didn’t work. Even the keyboardist’s friend who was the party’s promoter stepped onstage to intervene with a bit of advice on following the band’s flow and not stepping out into maverick mode. Fascinatingly the musical tug-o-war proved a bit humorous.

Back to the show, Peven raced through a medley of his popular titles. The Chicagoan soulfully crooned, “Can’t Believe I Loved Her” as he seemed to stretch every note into a long drawl. The audience’s fire shrieked into an uncomfortable quietness as if the song played B-side role or filler duties. With a shake the audience reawakened for the next song. The ladies in the room blushed as they were serenaded with “Girl Of My Dreams.” Particularly, one lady visiting from Louisville, Kentucky felt awed. Next, Peven motioned for the drummer to bring the beat down to a slow simmer. “Your Honor” announced the vocalist with eyes closed and mouth fixated on the microphone. “Yooour Honoooor” he repeated with that long drawl. “I Ain’t Supposed To Be Here,” he pleaded. It was the dramatic court case played out in “Can’t Do Without” that had the crowd singing, “That’s My Story And I’m Sticking To It.” After the much serious testimony it was time to celebrate. From the recesses of the crowd came cheers and chants singing, “Burning Hot.” The live interpretation brought good vibes, bright smiles and hot bodies to the floor. As Peven concluded, the song marked the end to an exhilarating roller coaster ride. But wait folks. ENCORE!!!

“I’ve never performed this song live,” Peven smiled. With a wink of the eye the showman launched into his 2010 mega hit, “How Bad I Want Ya,” the mid-tempo ballad that spent several weeks on top of the deep house digital music charts produced by Soul Element AKA Stacy Kidd. The audience went wild, sang along and danced about. After another round of expressions of love for the accompanying band members (including the keyboardist) and a Peven style key-note address on “The Makings of a Music Community” the singer exited the stage and made his way to the room’s front entrance to sell CDs.

The concert seemed swift and sudden with Peven jumping in and out of several songs performing only the first verse and hook and not much else before erupting into piano solos and segueing into the next song. The solos and several acts of verbal and nonverbal directives aimed at the band proved this was more of a jam session with musicians warming up pre studio recording session than a polished performance. Instead of mimicking live vocalists/musicians that follow a defined script, Peven was allowed to freely roam about like a roaring lion correcting musicians and playing lead star. These acts were lost in translation which proved all too nauseating for most of the audience members to keep up. Should they look left or should they look right? At times, feeling a bit overwhelmed the audience played the bored card, displaying quiet vengeance. However, Peven rebounded and knew how to actuate the audience’s enthusiasm. Amidst the various musical challenges, Peven remained entertaining, playful and professional.

Photography by AJ Dance