AJ Dance Legacy

KARIZMA

Launch Control:  Atlanta, we’re set to blast off.  All systems are ready to go.

In the Sound Table, the people stand on pins and needles.  An anticipatory buzz ignites the air aflame.   (more…)

JULIUS THE MAD THINKER

The DJ Summer Olympic Games

Calling all Ladies and Gentlemen, for those of you unable to snag a ticket to one of the most anticipated events of the summer-the DJ Olympic Games-press the power button on the remote control to your HD plasma television and press the play key on your DVR to enjoy the recaps, replays and highlights from one of the most prolific parties to hit town. By far this summer, The Gathering was the Olympic event of house music. So, get ready to relive the joy, sweat, and tears from one of house music’s premiere parties.

The Opening Ceremonies

Former Olympic host city Atlanta, Georgia serenaded its own musical tribute to the Olympic Games; house music style. Local legend Kai Alce was commissioned to open the summer DJ ceremony with the spectacular lighting of the musical torch. Mr. Kai Alce did as so and produced an impressive show-stopping audio montage. In the mix, old-school house juxtaposed with the sultry sounds of the new school. However, it was the old-school house that resonated the clearest and deepest with beats that banged hard as hi-hats incessantly hissed under saxophone tremolos. Kai, armed with in-depth music acumen, represented his globe-trotting adventures of far and near with exclusives from Japan to Detroit. As the hometown hero worked the main stage of musical hardware consisting of two CDJ’s, a mixer, and was aided by a melancholy Goth, sitting in a chair, controlling the sound system, ticket holders straggled into the front door while others tried to enter from the back door. Please note. People do not try to enter the establishment via the back door without paying because you will be SHUT DOWN. PERIOD. Courtesy Management. By no means, was this event a spectator sport; but this event was all about participation. Already, the Olympic spirit was in the air, besieging every heart to beckon its athletic call. Several dancers warmed-up as if to compete in a four hour dance-a-thon of endurance and strength. Their feet pounded the pavement as their hips whipped from left to right as some even banged their fists on an exposed wall. Little did they realize their actions were on record because this too was a dance-a-thon for champions.

The Games

Who better to answer the call to represent the main games than the 3 Degrees Global ambassador, Julius The Mad Thinker? The party’s guest music curator sprang into action with the heart of a runner sprinting in a 100 meter dash. The Chicago native steadied himself, with position and pose, ready to march the Olympiads to victory. The first two rounds or songs of vocal house preached like a Sunday morning church service in the backwoods of the south. Out from the choir stand came the ever impressive Lady Alma and the Rainamkers’ with, “Let It Fall” that represented Team USA. The song worked over those gathered into a celebratory frenzy coupled with screams, and fist pumping in the air action. Watch out the Holy Ghost was about to be unleashed. With lyrics as “Troubles Don’t Last Always/Let It Rain” the event was augmenting inspirational heights. Up next, Team Colombia appeared with the late Joe Arroyo’s “La Tortuga” (Jose Marquez Edit) singing in sensual Spanish. Spanish speakers and non-Spanish speakers truly appreciated the global gesture. The Mad Thinker himself, got in on the action and proudly sported his moniker, Aid To The Soulless with Desla on vocals singing, “One Night“(Thinker & Kai Mix). Then the games went into club mode with Timmy Regisford’s and Lynn Lockamy, “At the Club” (Rocco Deep Mix) with pulsating heart-pounding thumps and progressive flair. With the drop of the beat Team Africa wasted no time and showed up with Zakes Bantwini, “Wasting My Time“ (Black Coffee Original Mix). Suddenly, the music came to an abrupt stop. Oops. An eerie silence straddled the air (and plasma screens across the globe) for about two seconds. The referees had determined Team Africa would be disqualified from the round due to technical difficulties. Bummer. Valiantly, the gathered crowd responded with handclaps on the four-count and unified chants of “Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh/Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh.” (MC Hammer style) The dancers played great sportsmanship/sportswomanship as the music was cued by a frustrated looking Julius bouncing back into action. Talk about resilience of Olympic proportions. When the sport knocks you down, you get back up and keep running like the champion that you are. From there the house music went into Indie rock territory with Team Australia signaling the lead. The Temper Trap’s, “Sweet Disposition” (MFU All-Star Mix) proudly waved their country’s flag high for all to see. The dancers did not miss a beat and danced like they were competing athletes. Once again, Team Africa showed up, this time with vengeance and armed with African drums, as Afefe Iku from the island Manda off the coast of Kenya played, “Dakountdown.” The audience fell victim, dropping on their knees, to the duple meter drums, a swirling vocal riff and that auto-tuned 1,2,3,4. If that weren’t enough for a double header Team Africa launched into the dreamy, “Falling” by DJ Kent featuring Malehloka Hlalele on the Black Coffee remix. Surely the Africans had recaptured their loss footing and won back their previous strides. From there the music beckoned its ambient call with atmospheric vibes sifting into the incense aromatic air. Promptly, Team French entered the mix with DJ/producer extraordinaire Rocco and C. Robert Walker-AKA the Luther Vandross of house music-on vocals crooning, “I Love The Night” (Louie Vega Roots Mix) that had the crowd singing, “Ooh Ah/I Like It/Like That At Night.” On another high note, “Bah, Bah, Bah, Baaahhh.” The gold medal winning song belonged to Honeycomb Music’s label head, Josh Milan with “Your Body” (Louie Vega Mix). Literally, the song received the prize-winning applause of the night. The atmosphere exploded with combustible confetti too elusive to bridle. If that weren’t enough, Team USA achieved another victory with the Los Angeles born, GRAMMY-nominated jazz vocalist, Gregory Porter’s, “1960 What?” (Opolopo Kick & Bass Rerub) remixed by Team Japan’s Opolopo that caused additional dance floor mayhem that received spirited praise.

The Closing Ceremonies

The Gathering’s’ founder,Ramon Rawsoul closed the Olympic event with an impressive array of who’s who in American soulful house. First up, a blast from the past straight into the living room’s across the world, Atlantic Starr performed, “Send For Me” (Master Kev and Tony Loreto Mix) their classic R&B hitter that rocked the crowd in the arms of nostalgia. Chicago legends Cajmere and Russoul featuring vocalist Ari Lourdes, “Love Is You” the John Legend and Chrisette Michelle cover showed much love to the nu-soul house movement. Classic material from New Jersey’s Kerri Chandler’s, “Rain” put the party back in hyper-drive after a brief protest from disgruntled music activists as Maryland’s Thommy Davis and Ron Hall’s, “Fugue In Baltimore” brought down the house. Once again, a sound malfunction occurred and the music came to an abrupt stop. A two second FCC broadcast censor lingered on-air until Mr. Rawsoul restarted the music. By the way, what was up with the music equipment? Was it faulty or were the several wires that snaked around the field stepped on? Anyways, shoulder shrug. The show continued with twenty-first century R&B powerhouses, Jill Scott with, “I Think It’s Better” (Blaze Roots Vocal) and Alicia Keys with, “Feeling You Feeling Me” (Alpha and Omega Mix) belting out soul-drenched eargasms. Their virtuosa performances slowed the vibe down a bit but made for some dynamic dancing as background dancers squared off In crop circles while rolling around on the floor and committing fanatical poses of midair fascination. Also, the slower vibe fit perfectly for the lovers to couple dance and made for some spontaneous hook-ups via Grindr. The Gathering’s closeout theme, Bryon Moore’s, “Life Starts Today” (Tea Party Reprise) ended the glorious event with both Chicago natives and compeers onstage; a Julius The Mad Thinker tweaking away and turning the mixers knobs while Ramon Rawsoul gleefully sung the lyrics.

The Victories and Defeats

People from all walks of life; from age 21 and up, all ethnicities, all sexes, all sexual orientations and all creeds gathered together in celebration. What a wonderful exhibition of diversity that exemplified the golden spirit of the Olympic Games itself. By far, this had to be one of the most motley and record breaking attended Gatherings in its lengthy history. The arena was so packed from left to right and crammed from front to back with awestruck souls that experienced the spirit of soulful house music through song and dance. On the other hand, one of the event’s lack (besides the DJ being able to hear the music onstage) was that the people could have used a bit more Julius. Had the 3 Degrees Global ambassador played for an additional thirty minutes the missing Brits and other European teams could have showed face. Team United Kingdom would have been finely represented by tri-musician Ben Westbeech that would have competed perfectly in the vocalist/remixer/DJ rounds or veteran Joey Negro in the disco house competitions. Global phenomenon Gramophonedzie could have surfaced and represented well for Team Serbia in the swing house/jackin’ house categories with sampled big band sounds of talking trumpets, horny horns and big beats. Oh well, maybe in another four years they will. By the way, the gold medal for the dance-a-thon goes to the beautiful lady-a former Chicagoan herself-dressed in a black-lace top and white tank underneath, denim-short shorts and sneakers who danced for four hours nonstop. You go girl!!!

Words & Photography by AJ Dance

Chicago’s Julius The Mad Thinker of 3 Degrees Global will make an apperance in Atlanta, GA on Saturday August4, at the Sound Table for a special intimate night of music. Check out what the Mad Thinker is currently working on and his outlook for Saturday night’s visit.

Interview by AJ Dance

1. What is Julius The Mad Thinker currently working on?

Quite a bit!

For event production, I’m confirming the last of the production and entertainment details for events leading to and happening during the Mi Casa Holiday(MCH) Season 4 Finale in Playa del Carmen, Mx. Some of the details include approving lights and sound, selecting visuals, approving decorations, artist time slots, script writing for On-Screen Talent, building and developing new and current relationships with restaurants, artists, groups and administrations such as the new Mexican Government appointees.

For music production, I’ve written 3 new songs. “Wife Lover Friend”(WLF), “Purpose to Life” & “Proud to Be”. We’re(Aid to the SouLLess team) just about to record vocals on “WLF” with a phenomenal voice named Kaye Fox. I’m also collaborating on a future Terry Hunter song.

For Tour Schedule – I’m looking forward to being back with Ramon Rawsoul & Kai Alce in Atlanta of course, playing alongside Mark Farina @ Marquee dayclub in Vegas this month, being back in Vegas in September with my man Keith Evan for the awesome OASIS event production we’ve been working on, at the end of September, the Mi Casa Holiday send off at The Vagabond in Miami, and the incredible Mi Casa Holiday Season Finale in Playa. Later in the year, I have a big Chicago event acknowledging the 3Degrees Global 13yr anniversary feat. 3Degrees Residents with special guest Black Coffee, and this winter back scouting for MCH Asia.

2. What is Mi Casa Holiday?

Mi Casa Su Casa refers to Mi Casa Es Su Casa Holiday or MCH(Mi Casa Holiday). MCH is an annual season of destination music events that lead to an explosive weekend Finale in Playa del Carmen, Mx. The Season Finale features a unique itinerary of events, amazing artists, and friendly yet passionate globetrotters from around the world. This year’s Season Finale will be held Oct. 4-7. Check out the tentative program! http://bit.ly/PFA6ZH

3. Can people still register for the Mi Casa Holiday Finalle?

Yes! Http://micasaholiday.com / For inquiries in the Atlanta region,
contact Mi Casa Holiday planner Nina Ananse – http://www.facebook.com/nina.ananse or
nina103@earthlink.net

4. What goodies do you have in store for Atlanta?

Beautiful music, extreme passion, and a lot of positive energy 🙂

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  Mi Casa Es Su Casa 2012

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Chicago’s Julius The Mad Thinker of 3 Degrees Global will make an apperance in Atlanta, GA on Saturday August4, at the Sound Table for a special intimate night of music. Check out what the Mad Thinker is currently working on and his outlook for Saturday night’s visit.

LARS BEHRENROTH

“HELL YEAAAAH!” The white chick screams in a black party dress. The overly intoxicated blonde blows kisses that flutter and dissipate before its arrival to the DJ in the DJ booth.

“YEAAAAH!” She squeals again with the fervor of a high pitch hyena’s howl. Was she about to throw one hand up in the air to make the AC/DC hand gestures while bopping her head up and down reminiscent Beavis and Butthead?

“YEAAAH!” She explodes. This time around she fixes her eyes on her comely companion; a gay guy. Wait a minute, the two aren’t together? Oops. Ms. Thang swings her long blonde locks from left to right. Bashfully, he ignores her boisterous attempts and keeps dancing. She reaches out and holds his love handles. He’s not having it. Nervously, he turns his head to his right for an apercu and wonders where he can run to hide. Nonetheless, he’s trapped by the throngs of people. He savagely ignores her attempt by moving his feet at a quicker pace swaying from left to right. The party girl brushes her two hands across his pectorals. He’s still not having it. Then out of desperation she bends over unto the floor and there you have it folks….white panties plastered against a pasty thigh.

This tomfoolery marks the effrontery makings of the drama that ensues in front of the DJ booth. Why is it when a headlining DJ plays the first song everyone appears out of thin air and charges to the front of the DJ booth when the space is already chockablock? PEOPLE. PLEASE, use a bit of judgment. Is your vision that impaired you utterly fail to recognize there is no room in the inn? Does a, “NO VACANCY” sign need to be slapped across your face? Are you that ASININE? Or maybe you just don’t give a F*%$. The notion that there’s enough room on the dance floor does not apply, in this case, to the interior of the restaurant shaped like a shoebox. PEOPLE. Please, arrive earlier during the party to secure prime real-estate on the dance floor. On the contrary, that’s the joke. You PEOPLE don’t show up to dance. Instead, you PEOPLE take up space and stand on the floor as “WTF” star-struck DJ whores. PEOPLE. C’mon, are you serious? Please, stand elsewhere or be prepared to be pushed elsewhere. End.

Now back to the regularly scheduled program.

After one summer night’s noctilucent performance of thundering sounds, sporadic flashes of lights and the crying of tears, the Sound Table started the party. The music ushered KOT’s, “Finally” with Julie McKnight on vocals that stirred the nostalgic of minds. From four sound ambassadors stationed throughout the eatery thumped prestigious harmonies of the bittersweet nectar of house music’s bygone golden-era. A sugary concocted coat of cheers and melt-in-your-face dance moves played spectacle to curious palettes. What was this entire ruckus about? It was for the beloved sounds of soulful house music. The music that conjures the ability to speak the heart’s native tongue traversed through the woven tapestry of dance. In a world of soulless microwaveable consumption the pure sounds of soulful organic electronics proved gloriously epicurean.

It’s after 1pm and local legend Kai Alce has concluded one impressive classic house journey transcending time and space. Finally, the party’s guest headliner, the Deeper Shades of House creator, appeared in the elevated DJ booth marked by a neon green back wall that brilliantly painted the hearts of those gathered; deeper shades of green. From the exposed brick wall to the bar’s wooden countertops, eyes of awe and fists held tight to the heart, projected themes of DJ worship. Had the DSOH hero transformed into a new DJ demigod? The west coast resident had spellbound the crowd’s every essence of atomic energy and sculpted it into a combustible force. That force was so potent and ready to explode like musical confetti upon the backdrop of clanking cocktail glasses against porcelain small plates. The time had come for the musical styling of the honored guest and distinguished fellowman; Mr. Lars Behrenroth.

It’s always a great time when “Mr. Good Time” Lars Behrenroth plays. Lars no longer a stranger of the city has taken on extended family status. He’s the more-than-welcomed family member that when he arrives in town receives a royal red carpet rollout or at best a home cooked meal of the tastiest grilled cheese sandwiches. The gregarious cousin was in town to celebrate and share the ten year anniversary of his Deeper Shades of House imprint. That vision has spawned an Internet podcast, music label, community website and brand merchandise of tees and armbands. The brand had survived a turbulent decade when music formants transitioned from digital to clouds, when major underground dance labels ceased operations and turntables succumbed to mini-storage pods. This epic milestone; survival of the fittest, was alone worth the celebrating.

The Deeper Shades maestro started off with a jazzy underground house number. Psychedelic harmonies met chill Ibiza grooves that danced over a mid-tempo four-count. However, the floor warmer did little for the crowd. Soon slashing synths sliced in three-count syncopations through the soundscape as the wobble of beats sent seismic shockwaves through the space. Omar’s, “Lay It Down” (Andre Lodemann Mix) capitalized on the intellectual stirrings that sets parties into motion. The night’s money shot came courtesy of Lars in action boldly going where few DJ’s dare conceptualize. The choppy four-count disappeared and the music’s volume dropped down to a soft whisper. With the bass muted, the highs pitched, the vocals were filtered to a hypnotic warping of cacophony. Oh shit. Was Lars about to strip? Was he about to “Lay It Down” so long and hard that certain men’s magazine would deem this “porn-house?” In mid-sweat, the Deeper Sex of House persona slowly leaned to the right with his right shoulder cocked in mid air (preparing to go in and to make you scream). His broad upper torso gyrated in a slow wind of circular motions as he slowly and gently stroked the groove. He bent his knees and dropped a couple of inches downward and went inside, into the groove that is. A sexual innuendo oozed from his aura as he seemed to perform rhythmic thrusts of copulation with the music. The crowd at this point was all screams of ecstasy lost in unbridled lust. Most panted for breathes of fresh air as they were worked over to the point of exhaustion. Lars with eyes glued shut, covered his upper lip with the lower lip and protruded his jaw that pronounced pure cocksure. Nothing could break such stiff concentration. He was in it to win it and he wasn’t coming out until the crowd wet themselves, with sweat that is. The man was in baby-making mode and pleasing every orifice of the body. He grimaced, and made “the stank” face as if his groin spontaneously exploded with the joys of his labor and he was rewarded with the best gift, an orgasm, of the house music kind. At that point, on one precise count the beat alongside the music slammed down on the crowd and all were fucked uncontrollably out of their minds. Faces rolled backwards. Heads dropped towards the floor. Arms flung in the air. Bodies bounced up and down aplomb fleshy poles. “You Play Dat Ish!” was heard over orgasmic screams. This was one big orgy and one man had “Laid It Down” and impregnated the mutha. This was baby-making music, of the house music kind. Damn and this was only the second song.

After the fu*ktastic climax, the vibe settled into classic house music territory. After the steady annoyance of dance floor antics and shenanigans, in the back of the restaurant where dinning tables mingled with their counterparts; dining chairs, sat vacant prime real-estate. Once the dinning tables were pushed towards and almost out of the bay windows and their counterparts the chairs moved to separate locations, a band of house music’s finest aficionados turned the party out and danced the night away. It took little time for the eclectic music producer to segue into the deep rhythms of afro-house with a sample of Wyoma’s lecturing vocals on At One’s, “African Healing Dance.” Next up, Chicago’s Very Own, Glenn Underground’s, “Indians Bagpipes” caused the party’s second ruckus. A spectacular display of leg thrusts plunging through the air, writhed bodies kissing the floor, fancy footwork shuffling on wooden tiles and dignified African dance interpretations that mind-boggled spectators of diverse ages, ethnicities and genders. The imagery provided a defining moment to the phenomenon known as underground deep house music. As if their souls were groomed by exotic Indian rhythms joyously dancing over soft handclaps the spirit of dance sprung forth and brought smiles to those watching on the sidelines. “You Play That Ish” screamed one soul on fire. Soon after, Deeper Shades Recordings remix package of South African outfit Liquideep’s, “Feel It” (Andre Lodemann Mix) kept the action alive as the patrons on the dance floor slowly ebbed. From “gangsta house” to “sexy house” the deepness continued with a sample from Argy’s, “Upon Ourselves” as Bajka’s spoken vocals soared over, Liquideep’s, “Feel It” (Instrumental) of soft chimes and deep percussions. The night belonged to the musical spirit of Glenn Underground with another deep interpretation, “Mental Piano Dub” from his “Simple Black Resurrection” EP. A nod to opening DJ Kai Alce seemed appropriate as Kai used to bang the anthem at parties that sent people into dizzying fits. That night, likewise, the tune stirred up an intensive exploration of emotions of self lead by the swirling of piano keys over cowbells. On a somberly note, enough to sober a drunk, the 2004 classic from the late Nkemdilin “Kemdi” Amadiume singing on Handcrafted Soul’s, “I’m Still A Dancer” provided nostalgic of days and dances on dance floors gone by. The mid-tempo number was the last house song played in the cross-pollination of classic house killers meets afro-house deepness.

Once again, Mr. Lars “DSOH” Behrenroth attacked the deep house world of deep house heads and left no stone untouched. The rather outspoken cousin stayed true to his roots and delivered a powerhouse set sure to please the mental memories of many for years to go. Happy Birthday DOSH with hopes for another fruitful ten years.

Photography by AJ Dance

JAMIE 3:26

The Chicago Invasion Continued…..

A treasure trove stood before the eyes. Back at Space2, along the wall behind the makeshift DJ platform hung historic prospectus from club land’s bygone era. On the exposed wall Lil Louis hung next to Ron Hardy that hung next to Parrish Thomas. The decorated display was a who’s who in Chicago house music history. A time when house music was a lifestyle during the opulent 1980’s hey day. One of those pioneers-a second generation Chicago DJ-guest headlined at Chicago native/Atlanta resident Ramon Rawsoul’s monthly, “The Gathering.”

Jamie 3:26 (pronounced three too six) showed up like a prize-fighter. The Chicagoan moved cocksure and swiftly mimicking a South Side Chicago boxer. Like he had something to prove. When a DJ opens with Chicago’s outspoken Peven Everett’s, “Simmer” (Timmy Regisford Mix) there’s nothing to prove. The second generation house master’s brilliancy shined through a panoply of beats from award nominated genres. Runner-ups included broken beat, afro-house, classic house, vocal house and underground tracks. The party’s reigning champion went to Chicago’s South Side disco. That disco, the soundtrack to the uninhibited 1970’s, caused pandemonium in front of the makeshift DJ booth. A small crowd of forty-plus year olds had gathered and waged animalistic war. Imagine moms and pops imitating wild African animals in heat. Had the savages worn animal fur the textured pieces would have been skinned-bare. Leopard print bell bottoms? Destroyed. Ripped to shreds. Oversized afros? Gone. Torn off heads. Sounds of high-pitched hyena sibilants, cackling howls and roaring growls were heard courtesy the brute. Carnivorous claws sliced the air, the shaking of heads-possessed-jerked from left to right as teeth gnashed. A ravage spectacle of outright barbarism consumed the room. People, Please Clear The Area. Move away from the predators. The prey was bound to die.

Jamie packed a punch. The silver-haired mixologist delivered several rounds of blows to the audience. Take Diana Ross’, “Love Hangover.” The bass disappeared. The highs were tweaked and played at high decibels. Then BAM!!! (The crowd loses it.) The bass slammed the place. Precisely on eight-counts, the beat thumped harder, louder and more powerful than ever. On Anto Vitale’s, “Theorma Del Faya” (Tea Party Vocal) Jamie bobbed and weaved, anchored one shoulder upright as a boxer protecting his/her face from an incoming right hook. Peek-a-Boo. Jamie bounced up and down on the balls of his heels with a swift shuffle of the feet as all twelve fingers danced on the mixer. This is the type of DJ that anticipates what the crowd needs (not wants) and causes the audience to follow. Too bad the entertaining match would last for only TWO brief rounds (hours). The South Sider hadn’t made it to a T.K.O. Had the people got their money’s worth?  Why invite a legend from over seven-hundred miles away to play for only TWO hours? Are the fees worth spent having a guest headliner play less than three hours? Assuming so, this mind buckling trend seems to be spreading like wild fire in clubs across the country. Resident DJs are insisting on closing out their parties. Honestly, the majority of the crowd comes out to witness the event’s special guest talent. With that said, the people would have loved MORE Jamie 3:26. Here is to next time and hopes of more Jamie. After all it’s not often we get a chance to experience such a music legend.

Photography by AJ Dance

The Chicago Invasion Continued…..

GLENN UNDERGROUND

“Tell me. The Sound Table has an upstairs,” mentioned friend number one to friend number two gathered at a burger joint for Sunday brunch.
“Why yes but the upstairs is used for dining purposes only.” Explained friend number two.
“Oh my,” friend number one gasped. “You all dance in that tiny space?!?”

“As We Rejoice/Clap Your Hands,” sang Zakes Bantwini and Xolani Sithole into the ears of the chosen few already writhed in mid-dance. The restaurant’s elongated dining tables and wooden dining stools served as wall holders as happy feet graced contortionists appearing to kiss and dry hump the floor. Chicago native/Atlanta resident Ramon Rawsoul of House In The Park fame warmed up the crowd with musical selections from ATL’s Miranda Nicole’s, “Kissing You” (Duce’s Wild Vox) and South Africa’s Culoe De Song’s, “The Bright Forest.”

The clock reads 12:30 AM when the night’s headliner, Chicago’s own Glenn Underground pulls the plug on Black Coffee’s global unified theme, “We Are One.” From the sound system roared thunderous, “vrooms” as if a motorcycle chain gang zoomed down I-90 to Chicago’s south side. After 60 seconds of the maddening intro the motorcycles came to a stop at South Side Disco. That is the cacophony gave way to a disco four-count with hissing snares that bounced off the speaker tops, elongated tables and wooden chairs. The GU moniker would offer not one but THREE consecutive tracks more of less the same. Was it 1979? Hell Naw. While some appreciated yesterday’s nostalgia, others shook their heads in abandonment, as some braved the classics panting for disco’s bastard child; house music.

With a slide of the CD player’s pitch control the beats picked up pace. Boisterous thumps fell from the speakers to jolt the heart. A steady climax rushed rubber soles to dance faster and jump higher. There it was again, the “vrooms,” leaving South Side Disco, taking off to some unknown underground warehouse while a cant reminiscent of Dr. MLK Jr. directed its destination. The spoken word’s volume was amplified so till it echoed with a distorted hiss. The making of the musical journey proved a bit off putting.

What followed next delivered music to the ears and brought what the people came to hear a proper instrumental house music track built on a steady four-count thump, equipped with swirling keys and melodic chords that justified a true house experience. Transitioning from a music track to a song with vocals proved a no brainer as a male vocalist proudly proclaimed, “I ‘am Superman” to warm cheers. The crowd’s enthusiasm was kicking in high-gear perhaps due to alcohol.

Over the course of songs, hearts pounded with joy as additional musical offerings of the house and disco kind played at the Sound Table’s alter. The crowd had swelled to gigantic proportions. The tiny restaurant could no longer contain the substantial bodies packed tight like an African slave ship. Shirts came off, hairdos fell flat and sweaty musk became le parfum du jour.

Sometime later from the recesses of a track played chirping guitars beeping vibrantly underneath warm orchestrated strings. The soft melody had that of an old Chicago soul. Yes, indeed it was the interpretation of Timmy Regisford’s and Adam Rios’ execution of Chicago’s soul maverick Peven Everett’s, “Burning Hot.” However, this accompaniment came equipped with a smooth saxophone providing opening credits. WOW! What an exclusive goodie. After two minutes of sax filled bliss Peven’s vocals sung, “Gotta Keep It Burning Hot.” Throughout the shoebox shaped restaurant hands flew up in praise as the people lost their minds all the while providing additional vocal support. The producer took the track even further by killing the bass to warp the highs that caused additional pandemonium.

The Midwesterner gave a shout out to the east coast with Blaze’s 1999 cut, “Wishing You Were Here” remixed by U.K.’s moniker Joey Negro. Then came the steady transitions to afro-house, then to 1980’s Chicago house and then to disco. The night capsized with Chicago’s vocal sensation the late Loleatta Holloway’s, “Dreamin.” The CVO (Chicago’s Very Own) was at his best in his element delivering a stunning overworked vocal take on the classic. “What’s Mine Is Mine/What’s Yours Is Yours/You See I Don’t Want Nothing That’s Yours.” Loleatta’s scat and Holy Ghost “whoohs” were pitched, looped and allowed to scream till the hairs on the neck stood acute and chills surged up the spine. Even if not a fan, every heart had to admit, “This was REAL music.”

There’s just something about that Chicago soul. That soul that can’t be faked, funked, or forgotten. That soul that can’t be caged, copied, or formulated. The kind of soul that reaches its arms back in time across deep musical waters. The soul that can be heard on African slave ships, heard on Mississippi’s slave plantations and heard in Chicago’s south side housing projects. That Chicago soul be it blues, jazz, disco, house or rap that makes happy feet two-step. That kind of soul slaps the approval of blackness in your face. That kind of soul makes you dance and shout in circles filled with the Holy Ghost. That soul will make you throw your arms in the air and cry, make your heart dance out of its chest cavity and make you jump on and dance on restaurant tables in public. Glenn Underground brought that type of soul to the Soul Table uh-hmm the Sound Table. That soul was crafted from the deep, transported through the trenches and delivered to the underground masses. Some may not understand the soul. If one allows their eyes to close, taking a deep breathe and plunging backwards into the sweet serene waters they will no doubt be baptized into the soul. Be it young, old, black, white, Jew, gentile this soul is for you.

All Photos 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

Photography by John Crooms

HOUSE IN THE PARK 7

8:30 am

Stretched back as far as the naked eye could see, tan tents and colorful canopies tripped alongside lush green hues perched next to the pebbled brook stream gently trickling in tranquility unaware of the bustling activity taking place around its soft aquatic voice. Boisterous SUVs bullied and bellowed their way into parking spaces along the down-slope descent of the park’s main drive, ready to be unloaded of goods, equipment and foods. There was a mid-sized white and orange U-Haul truck docked and parked at the pavilion in the center of the park where muscled arms rolled out black speakers on flats accompanied by heavy hands carrying shiny musical gear. Already, a spectrum of colorful personalities were busy pulling packed coolers, pushing baby strollers and carrying purses around shoulders along narrow paths connected to the central pavilion like a busy network of neurons. Overlooking the unrestrained excitement one could only imagine the park- decorated with various colors of tents and canopies tops-resembled candy coated sprinkles decorating one giant mint cake. The weather suspiciously mild with overcast skies foretold of rain to come from a tropical storm in the near future. But for now a few drops of water fell only a few feet from heavy cumulus that seemed to sit too low to the earth. The morning’s cooler temperatures hovered around the low 70’s just perfect for a day of outdoor music and dancing and a bit of mayhem. The weather was nothing of the gloomy kind but rather a refreshing variant. So get up and dance because this is House In the Park 7.

It takes much man-power/woman-power, experience, skill and prayer to run a public event held at a city public park that will host thousands of attendees from toddlers to the elderly. And HITP is no exception. HITP is that event which looks easy to execute in front of the theatrical curtain but in reality a whole lot goes on behind the sawdust scenes unbeknownst to the naked eye. As with previous years, this year’s event started off proper. Recycling bins for plastic bottles and trash bins for everything else were positioned around the park at various locations as well as several water stations that offered complimentary bottled water to keep guests hydrated. A slew of green portable toilet facilities were stationed across the gravel parking lot and cement driveway for those relieving needs. A maintenance crew walked to and fro collecting bags of trash with latex gloves that made sure the park stayed clean. Several volunteers in neon green tees manned the information booth decorated with bulky white donation buckets and first aid kits. Across from the information booth there were merchandise tables selling HITP bags, tees, tanks and compact discs. In front of the pavilion several vending tents sold everything from food items to painted portraits. Walking around the park volunteers in white tees shoved bulky white buckets in faces for monetary donations. The air smelled ripe with charcoal, perfect for summer holiday grilling. Savory scents of smoked meats, intoxicating flowery perfumes, sweet incense and choking cigarette smoke traversed the air with sporadic whiffs of aromatics. The city’s law enforcement, men and women, in all blue paraded around with eyes covered by sunglasses that were well equipped and more than eager to battle any opportunity that proved harm’s way. All went well until parents lost their children or children lost their parents. Over the microphone, interrupting mid-song and mid-dance, came several repeated announcements prompting individuals to come to the DJ booth and claim their little ones. As if this should be ground breaking news. Further microphone interruptions included; the several vehicles parked on the park’s grass that had to be removed before being towed and the loser with the blue American manufactured automobile that parked on a person’s lawn whose car was towed. Other than that the event went off without a hitch. Even the late afternoon rain that showered the park with love could not dampen the mood’s festivities or keep people away from the celebration of family, food and house music. As African drums played and the rain gods listened, the one giant Family Reunion of alumni and freshmen house heads and non-house heads and soon to be house heads danced and danced and danced thanks to killer anthems provided by all four DJ’s; Salah, Kemit, Ramon Rawsoul and Kai Alce.

12 pm

The event’s first minister of music, singer/ songwriter/ producer/ DJ Salah worked the musical switchboards with a skilled purview that only a maestro possesses. The dance floor, not the people, struggled a bit to capture the magical energy known to suddenly visit HITP at any given moment. The pavilions makeshift dance floor seemed a bit sluggish to wake as happy feet bounced and pounced to all kinds of drum beats. There seemed to be a slight hesitation, a sleepy silence or a mild tug-of-war to awake the concrete mammoth. The people’s feet already in mid-movements danced hard; real hard. Their bodies fought valiantly with bright smiles, arms slashing with all ten fingers waving about, spreading leg squats and stomping feet to syncopated rhythms of soul. Perhaps the floor’s sluggishness was due to too much genre jumping from Fela’s afro-beat to live act Tortured Soul to disco house crooner Marc Evans; not an easy task for any mixing DJ and certainly not an easy task for dancers to keep pace when dancing to a specific genre. However, Salah’s power play came with Adele’s, “Rolling In The Deep,” a deep house treatment that had people yelling, “We Could’ve Had It All/Rolling In The Deep” with hands raised in the air and heads titled in the sky.

2 pm

The dance floor was so packed with bumping bodies and humping heartbeats that there was no room to dance and you could forget about walking or dancing your way into the pavilion. People took to the pavilion’s wall ledge using smartphones and smart tablets to take digital photos and digitally film the mass amid thick dance moves and swinging arms below. During this photogenic moment, with an invisible whoosh the dance floor breathed new life and the magic that shows up at the event at any given moment arrived and took those on the dance floor by hand and danced with them through a musical journey of sights and sounds. Tapped to usher the journey was the day’s second DJ, the world famous DJ Kemit that played a sensory of beats ranging from a broken beat remix by Salah Ananse of John Legend’s rendition of Adele’s, “Rolling In The Deep” (played for the second time) to Zakes Bantwini’s afro-house, “Clap Your Hands” (Club Mix) to Ann Nesby’s disco cover of Brainstorm’s, “Lovin’ Is Really My Game” to gospel house courtesy of Kenny Bobien’s, “I Shall Not Be Moved.” HITP’s most breathtaking and most memorial visual came when the giant Family Reunion packed tight wall against wall within the pavilion jumped up and down like a sea of bobbing bobble heads to Nirvana’s, “Smells Like Teen Spirit” (Salah Ananse Remix). Fists punched through the air as heads head-banged as if at an alternative rock concert equipped with a mosh pit. Screams of joy were heard across the park disturbing the wild life as the late Kurt Cobain yelled in angst, “With the lights out/it’s less dangerous/Here we are now/entertain us/I feel stupid and contagious/Here we are now/Entertain us”. What a sight to see the mass respond with sheer pandemonium of the house music kind. But wait, that wasn’t all, because from the wreckage came a shuttering broken beat staccato that segued into the silky vocals of the late great Michael Jackson singing, “Rock With You” the Ezel Remix that had the overjoyed caught up mimicking moonwalks and triple spins. Talk about a posthumous honor for the two legends that have influenced and redefined the sound of music.

4 pm

However, it was the third DJ, House In The Park’s founder, Ramon Rawsoul from south- side Chicago that put the house in House In The Park. Be it rather Culoe De Song featuring Thandiswa Mazwai’s afro-house killer, “Gwebindlala” to the deep-house stomper, Ceramic’s featuring Aisling Stepheson on vocals titled “Broken Dreams” (Tea Party Mix) to Peven Everett’s house thumping, “Church” (Sting’s International RMX). Mr. Rawsoul delivered and tore off the pavilion’s roof when Lil Louis’ house classic, “French Kiss” fell from the sky to tortured screams. People lost their minds, held hostage to the instrumental track as the music slowed into a hip-hop friendly groove equipped with orgasmic screams from a horny vocalist. However, looking around it wasn’t the vocalist having an orgasm but the massive crowd of sweaty flesh. With eyes closed heads flung around in the air with mouths wide open drooling saliva as people groped on one another; guys with gals, gals with guys, guys with guys and gals with gals. Shirtless men spun around on hands in dance circles showing off tricky feet movements as braless ladies wearing mid-drifts belly danced and dropped to the floor to do squats. HITP turned into a freak fest as the music sped back up to over 120 bpms and the crowd again yelled for more.

6 pm

The event’s fourth and final DJ, NYC born via Detroit raised Atlanta resident, Kai Alce’s musical concoction consisted of 90% 1970’s disco and the rest, 1980’s dance classics with a bit of current thrown in for extra flavor like Miranda Nicole’s, “Double Life” the sleeping remix fit for a soft-opening at a quant cozy restaurant instead of sitting perched between dance anthems of yesteryear. There seemed to be a premeditated motive to bring the old-skool back to life. This was great but one questioned begged to be asked, “Where was more house music at HITP 7? Anyways, the one giant Family Reunion loved the music played. Either overcome by alcohol or possessed by a high or not, the people lost their minds and danced and danced like panting wildebeest to Chaka Kahn’s, “I Know You, I Live You,” and even to Rod Stewart’s, “Da Ya Think I’m Sexy?” until the sun fell silent behind the pavilion and the covered shelter structure spoke with bright lights. The crowd cheered, “Boo” as the MC announced the event would soon end at 8 pm. After the music filled journey dropped various individuals off at various destinations of quality family time, rekindled friendships, exercise workouts, overstuffed bellies, drunken hazes or to cloud 9 on a music high, it was time to say good night and good bye until the next time.

8:10 pm

The magic that shows up at any given moment on the dance floor stayed around far after darkness fell, far after all the trash was thrown neatly and tucked away in black bags, far after every grill was disassembled and every tent folded away, far after every law enforcement in navy blue called it a day, far after every piece of hardware and software was packed onto flat beads and loaded onto trucks, far after the last heartbeat left the premises and every four wheeled vehicle abandoned the parking lot, the magic even stayed around far after the park’s 11 am closing time. It’s presence could be felt the following morning on Internet blogs, seen in the smiles of online photos, heard through online videos, spoken through word of mouth statements and experienced through the collective thoughts of memories that would live on.

Photography by John Crooms except for last photograph by John Hobbs

CHEZ DAMIER

The storm promised to dampen the night’s festivities. Outdoors in the windy air lightning flashed and thunder boomed as a deluge fell from the sky. In the distance, several tornado sirens marked by repeated calls for shelter sounded throughout the metropolitan area. This deadly weather was highly unusual for a night out on the town. Or was it? After all, it was the month of April.

Despite the obvious, the show was scheduled to go on in the mid-size restaurant lounge/make-shift club located in the building marked by a painted mural of the late great civil right’s activist, Dr. Martin Luther King seen on the establishment’s outside wall adjacent a miniscule parking lot. The reason for this event, the night’s headliner Chicago native/Detroit adopted Chez Damier of Detroit Techno fame was in the house. Local legend Kai Alce, Chez’s former mentee warmed the brick and mortar space with smooth sounds of sexy saxophones, sensual beats and exotic chords. This was comfort music. The kind of music that kept you dry on a rainy spring night and warm on a cool spring night. The kind of music that accompanied a hot cup of tomato bisque. The kind of music that filled the restaurant with trendy hipsters yelping back and forth over small plates of tapas.

By the stroke of midnight the quaint venue lay claimed to be pack with people. No storm could discourage those from seeking a musical adventuresome night out on the time from attending. From left to right sexy bodies grinded to subtle beats as kisses were exchanged between strangers. It’s this unusual synergy that begs, is this a sit down restaurant or a dry humping niteclub? Only the owners of the hotspot scurrying back and forth with empty cocktail glasses in hand could answer the question. Everyone else was left to ponder should I stand up or should I sit down.

Finally, a 6 feet “6” 260 pound bouncer helped to move three rectangular tables out of the way to make extra dance space. Immediately, hard core dancers secured the prime real estate to show off fancy footwork and spacey spins.

Back behind the musical decks, Kai Alce seemed stuck somewhere between neo-soul house and soulful broken beats. Sultry female vocals wrapped around instrumentals sung, “That’s How Much I Love You” which met the crowd’s curious approval. However, the night’s stand out so far, Makam’s, “You Might Lose It” (Kerri Chandler’s Deep Mix) readied the crowd for Chez’s arrival. Taking a much needed cue from 1990’s house music peak, the tune made the feet dance with joy next to three JBL’s positioned throughout the room. If this was any indication of what to expect for the rest of the night then the people were in for a treat.

To say Chez’s set was nothing less than dynamite would do no justice. The Chicago DJ/producer led the crowd into classic house music territory of old-skool mid-west sound straight from the source itself Chicago. The first track played, shook the room with heavy four-counts that were heard down the street at the bustling intersection of Edgewood and Boulevard. Staccato jabs of synths ripped through the air to make fists violently pump with joy. Even the sound system with its precision clear crisp sound enhanced the acoustics that allowed for audio pleasure.

Song highlights included Whitney Houston’s 1988 Top 10 hit, “Love Will Save The Day” a classic white label remix played at NYC’s famed Sound Factory back in the mid-1990’s. Also, in the mix an afro-beat thumper that kicked the crowd into the African jungles dancing in dashikis and loin clothes. The deep penetration readied the crowd for what followed, French house DJ/producer Yass,’ “He Reigns” the 2007 gospel anthem with throat deep tenor vocals by Leslie O’ Smith. Another surprise in the well executed/well-rounded thought out classic house set came from Chicago’s Lil Louis, “Club Lonely” a four count straight up banging dub that blew the roof off the hinges. The classic house heads exploded with bliss as the beat disappeared in favor for “The No Name On The Guest List” conversation during the song’s mid-section climax.

After the righteous set, hometown hero Kai Alce closed the night out with Jazmina’s cover of, “Let The Rain Come Down” the sample heavy tune mixed with Frankie Knuckle’s, “Tears” aided by Robert Owens blissful vocals. The song(s) kept the hard core’s dancing and singing until the final note played. WOW! What a night.

On a side note, a must for any public venue is to have adequate comfortable room temperatures that allow your clientele to breathe easy without sweating buckets of water just by standing in the room. Please, do not burn your customers with unventilated hot air especially if they are dancing. Proper air ventilation and a working air conditioner are needed at a dance party. It’s only the month of the Aries and folks were sweating like it’s the dog days of summer. Enough already.