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
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Tags: Atlanta Georgia, BEMBE, Carlos Mena, deep house music, house music, Space2