Black Coffee
The Entertainer
“That shit was as brutal as watching “Black Adam.” You tweet walking to your vehicle from the club. Feeling the chill in the air. Disappointed. Thinking.
Whereas, having recently witnessed Derrick Carter and Osunlade play heart and soul music, with conviction. Black Coffee plays music that entertains. He is an entertainer. Who now plays Hollywood house. Music with no authenticity.
Earlier
No t-shirts, no athletic apparel, no baggy clothes, no hats, no chains reads the venue’s dress code violations. Hmm. Sounds like certain people are not welcome…
At the Building with a Troubled Past.
The sexual assault. Gun shots. The club now renamed and under new management. Domaine-A Vegas style affair in Midtown Atlanta. SMH. The trouble begins when you enter the venue. The predominantly Black staff is friendly. But the space is littered with roped off VIP booths of sofas and tables. Imagine eating dinner and seeing a show at Caesar’s Palace. There is barely standing room. And dancing? Bruh. Don’t even think about it.
And let’s not get started on the crowd. Periodt. The kids who come to get fucked up. Who push you into spaces and places.
Up above, the visuals flashing on the movie theatre screen stuns. The light show dazzles. The shooting sparks is superfluous. Especially when standing front and center the machine as char falls onto your skin.
Opening for Black Coffee Is arguably the most brilliant idea ever. His glow up is #real. He deserves every bit of shine. The Tambor Music CEO plays songs. Stones and Bones featuring Toshi’s “Amahloni” (Manoo Remix) invigorates. Emmanuel Jal’s “Hey Mama” (Da Capo Mix) excites. DJeff featuring Zakes Bantwini’s “Zugu Zugu“ is illustrious. But Caiiro’s “The Akan” has the entire room chanting ba, ba, ba, on beat. The scene should be a Tik Tok. Trending. Or least, a thread. The energy is apeshit. If Stan Zeff continues his forward command. He might be the savior of the party.
Later
Enter Black Coffee. Flanked onstage by his manager. There is a photographer and videographer capturing his essence. Already, the music is lost in translation. Ibiza this is not. ATL this is. The Divided States of America. Even the white girls-Black Coffee’s target audience-are trying their best to stomach their vomit. Gurl, I see you. Wait. Playing in between “Turn Me On” (a cappella) and Roland Clark’s “I Get Deep,” (a cappella) is Vincent Price’s rap from “Thriller?”
Make it make sense. All the people want to hear is “We Dance Again” (Dub). Then the heads can peace out. For the night. Instead the crowd gets beats. Beat after beat after dizzying beat. Beats that make no sense. Beats that can’t be Shazammed. Them stupid beats just won’t stop.
Where are the songs?
Most music producers play their productions when deejaying. Not Black Coffee, tonight. The “Drive” star is better off playing the two songs he produced for Drake’s “Honestly, Nevermind,” all night, at this point.
Then the music skips. Beats crashing into beats. Black Coffee’s manager gripes, and the monitors are turned closer so the “Superman” producer can better hear. Hoping that fixes the bad music vibes.
Nope. The bad music continues. Limping along like a sore loser. At the GRAMMY awards.
So, yes the music Black Coffee played was horrible, as horrible as watching “Black Adam.” The experience, scary even brutal. You gram while walking to your vehicle from the club. Again, feeling the chill in the air. Again, feeling disappointed.
Peace ✌️ .
wrds: aj dance
grphcs: aj art
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Tags: afro house, Atlanta Georgia, Black Coffee, dance music, DJ Stan Zeff, Domaine, Tambor Music