The Realest Muthafucka Alive
0030
“Tonight, there are no chairs.
No tables.
This is not that night.
Tonight, is for the dancers.
Hmmm. What’s the music [called]?”
“House music.” Replies a guy whose name might be James, hiding behind wired frames and swallowed by one oversized sweatshirt.
“Ha.” Scoffs the baby-faced door guard whose name might be Jaquan. Dressed in all black, he fails to recognize Black peoples’ music. What a shame. After all Detroit techno is essential music.
Indoors, the cement floor is smooth enough to glide across near the kitchen that is wrapping up remaining late-night food deliveries. By day, the establishment that serves cuisine is turnt up most weekends. Booties twerking to trap might be the main course most Saturday nights, but tonight the best dish served are two words:
Detroit. Techno.
The four-on-the-floor-pumps harder. The bass line is phatter. The beats per minute are increased. There is not one objection from the masked faces arriving front door. “You’re good. I’m vaxed,” a sista gushes as hugs are exchanged. Ah, family has arrived.
0200
Now that everyone is on the floor, poise and prime, a seamless transition takes place. Where the master of the opening ceremony leaves off the event’s honored guest effortlessly takes to the boards. Drums jolt the heart. A low-fi bass line rattles. Clicks and chirps reverb towards the ceiling. This is the sound of the….
“The Realest Muthafucka Alive”
Reads the print on the black tee worn by the humble Carl Craig. His slender frame stands elevated on a platform before triangular prisms protrudes from a black panel.
There is no denying Craig’s affection for George Clinton & P-Funk. Rewind time as Funkadelic’s “Not Just (Knee Deep)” brings out the freaks. A Nightingale appears in view smiling. She mouths the lyrics “Something about the music, she always makes me dance“ as she twirls her body in syncopated rhythm.
Afro-techno paces at 130 beats per minute on Clyde P’s “The Gwana March.” The Darius Syrossian Remix sends suspects marching to and fro bathroom stalls. Noses sniffle as fingers pinch nostrils.
DJ Gab’s “Still Here” of moody chords, slapping pads and trippy 808’s brings out the fancy footwork. One guy, his legs stomping up and down in righteous bouts, his sneakers crisscrosses the floor. His body weaves and wobbles in fluid movements that breathe life into spaces less traversed by house music dancers. “You betta werk!” One dancer cheers. The guy in mid-stomp proclaims, “I’m visiting from New York.”
0039
Birthed in New York, raised in Detroit, current Atlantan, Kai Alcé stands in a corner near couches and a center table. Hours earlier the local legend played opening ceremony. The NDATL star set the mood proper. Dope selections of deep house met De-techno. Both pumped across the aphotic room as a shining beacon of hope for his former hometown. The standout track played was Johnny Corporate’s “Sunday Shoutin’.” Bodies swarmed front and center the DJ station. The crowd was lit even bringing out the beast in one stan. His limbs flailing in the air. Fist pumping. Head jarring left to right. Locks swinging. Teeth illuminating 1000 watts.
0214
“You taking up the speaker.” A blonde dancer dressed in a black crop top and blue denim announces to another dancer tagged Happy Feet. Black JBLs positioned alongside the platform stage are prime real estate as dancers trade-off showcasing their best SYTYCD moves.
Tom Trago’s “Use Me Again” that samples Millie Jackson’s “We Got to Hit It Off” is all-too-familiar disco. Carl Craig’s Remix fails to challenge the dance floor that brings nostalgia of soul to souls.
LEDs emitting whites and reds reveal the room’s liveliness. Bodies navigate between bystanders. Their conversations suspended mid-air. Masks come off. The room swells with energy. The vibe is on point. Hold up! Who is that seated on the red couch behind Carl Craig?
“Derrick May!”
After all, Derrick May gave a young Carl Craig an up when May worked radio and received Craig’s cassette tape of music decades ago. Don’t get it twisted. Mr. Craig wasn’t chasin’ clout. Cause Carl Craig is clout. Volumes are written on Craig’s legacy that has fundamentally strengthened the impact of Detroit techno. Having launched his timeless Planet E music label, his various aliases, Pysche to Innerzone Orchestra, several released singles, “Crackdown” to “Sandstorm” and collaborations with Moritz Van Oswald and Green Velvet, the revered producer/remixer is a stalwart looming over the world of techno.
That world returns the Detroit native to Atlanta, again. Having played several Bobi Stevkovski’s Project B parties, their first event cemented in 2013. Thenceforth, Craig has forged a relationship with Stevkovski proving the worn cliché; he is a brutha from anotha mutha.
Tonight, the GRAMMY nominee who recently debuted a musical exhibition at a museum neighboring the Hudson River is in show-off mode. He keeps the music heavy to his Michigan roots. Detroit native Floorplan’s Extended Revival Mix of Sophie Lloyd featuring Dames Brown’s (another Detroiter) “Calling Out” preludes (surburban Detroiter) Seth Troxler’s Freak Mix of his & The Martinez Brothers’ “Play In the Dark.” There is Fabrice Torricella’s “Coven” and later Will Clarke and MK’s (another Detroiter) “My Church.” The playlist juxtaposes the secular and spiritual. Tellingly, Carl does not prioritize to either voice, yet demonstrates his vernacular within capacity.
That’s what’s up! Craig honors the late Angel Moraes by playing “Dancin’ Wit My Baby.” The Darius Syrossian Remix brings the stank. Or did someone shart themselves? Someone needs to check their drawls cause that shit stinks in the lounge section adjacent the DJ setup.
Peak hour calls for peak music. Will Clarke & MK’s “My Church” delivers. The Matt Sassari Remix is the party’s banger of five minutes and twenty-eight seconds of warped chords, filtered vocals and spacey hi-hats that builds into sonic furor. But when that beat drops…this is techno at its best.
“Can we video you dancing?” A twenty-something brunette asks Happy Feet jumping in semicircles to gritty thumps laced with psychedelic tweaks on the acid “Pr1” by James Ruskin & Mark Broom.” She pleads, “We love how you dance.”
Carl Craig as Paperclip People “Throw” goes way back. The Planet E classic plays as sneakers trek up wooden stairs and outdoors onto a spacious rooftop patio. A gentle breeze brushes atop brows. The air is crisp and unseasonably cool yet refreshing for a smoke and chat amongst friends that brings the party experience to a close.
0400
Seated underneath a waxing crescent, realization springs to mind. Although people stood in all four corners of the venue, the attendance did not capsize capacity. Rather, the sizable crowd that gathered did so in the arms of love. Love of techno. Love of dance. Love of life. Love of celebration. Love of spending their government stimmy checks. As drinks poured, smoke puffed, laughter abound. All had the time of their lives at the ultimate Carl Craig experience to date in the ATL HOE.
wrds: aj dance
visual: aj art
Share this:
Tags: #dancefloormagic #housemusicexcellence, Atlanta, Atlanta Georgia, bobi stevkovski, Carl Craig, dance music, deep house music, Detroit techno, house music, Kai Alce, NDATL, Project B, techno music