The Gathering’s 15 Year Anniversary Celebration
The “D”
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The highs sound before the bass kicks. Spaced out whumps wobble from the soundscape. Jazzy synth chords play before being hushed. The heart beat of the pulse-the drums-pound at 124 beats per minute. The track plays like a walk through a park on a breezy day. “Play dat shit! Kai.” The accolades continue. “Work it. Work it. Work it.”
Much is voiced during a Kai Alcé journey. The music meanders through deeper tech rubs, KemeticJust presents Terrance Downs’ “Here For It,” time traveling backwards, “Bad Times (I Can’t Stand It)” Part 2, to yesteryear’s vocal anthems now reconstructed with hypnotic bass drops, Leela James’ “My Joy.” Even playing Ian Friday’s “Carib’s Leap” (West Blue Remix) induces dance floor pandemonium. Visages contorted with shock. Lips plucked. Nostrils flared. Eyes closed. Everyone wears a stank face. The nerve of him to drop such heat. Voices clamor, torsos contort, hips gyrate, and knees drop to the cement. This ain’t a pretty dance.
Atlanta’s Alcé serves unreleased edits and beats. The NDATL label founder, who designs his eyewear frames, sees into the future-miles ahead of his contemporaries. The stitched “D” on his ball cap representing “Detroit,” should read “Doc.” As in Doctor Kai, of all-things-soulful wearing a black Casablanca Records sweatshirt is in showoff mode. Apropos. Only seated behind him is one of the premier master mixers this planet has ever witnessed.
Nightlife Apocalypse
“I call it the deregulation of the city’s nightlife,” says Ramon Rawsoul the founding father of the Gathering. “That allowed for Saturday nights to open up and for me to throw the Gathering.”
Fifteen years earlier, during the mid-aughts the city’s soulful house music community sat at a crossroads. City ordinances: early last-calls and early bar closings shuttered long-held parties where nightlife promoters disappeared, attendance ebbed, and venue closures dotted the city’s bleak landscape. The few denizens left standing were die-hards, preservers to keep the music playing during the nightlife apocalypse. In stepped Ramon Rawsoul to fill a void. The native Chicagoan proposed a gathering. Where music selectors, music lovers and music dancers could fellowship. So grew the party that traveled across the city from locale to locale. Over time its underground reputation preceded by one defining factor-longevity. In the underground where the nightlife changes in the swipe of a screen, there comes merit, the ability to boast.
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“Atlanta’s longest running deep house music party” is where the excitement registers off the hinges tonight. When one master plays closing duties another master leaps to his call of duty. His ear attached to a headphone cup. His fingers swivels knobs. His thumb punches buttons. His hand slides across the sound ware. His visage locked as if decoding an unspoken language. The arsenal: four oversized CDJs and a formidable mixer ready for combat. And when his index finger presses cue. The beast is unleashed.
Stand on the Word
Armonica’s “Negeke” roars. South Africa’s Toshi’s vocal ignites feverish pitches of unbridled praise. The andhim Remix plays over moody chords and weightier drums that bend torsos low to the floor. At the break, when the pads dissipate, echoes stutter across the ceiling rafters. As when the drums return, the beat drops like a ton of bricks on a woman wearing open-toe sandals. Ouch! There is joy in pain. Within three minutes, the guest DJ is giving the children a beat-down.
A broken pattering of toms, equipped with electro bleeps bulges speaker cabinets. A famous guitar lick announces the arrival of lyrics, “Ten years ago on this day.” The Jackson’s “This Place Hotel” shocks! And sends additional “Hee, Hee(s)” into the air that coruscate from several disco balls hanging from steel beams.
A virus. Locusts. Rumors of war. Tornadoes. And a city’s main artery closed that caused traffic standstills of Olympic proportions could not hinder the coming triumph. When the choir sings. Elements of Life’s reissue now featuring Jasper Street Company’s and a DJ Spen and Gary Hudgins Vocal Remix ministers. Encouraging all, when in the midst of trails and tribulations to “Stand On the Word.”
The room transforms into Pentecost shoutin’ and hollerin.’ As the congregation’s spirited praises go up, bountiful blessings fall in the form of Nicholas Ryan Grant’s “Gypsy Woman (She’s Homeless).” The Kaytronik Extended Remix, a cover of the Crystal Waters and Basement Boys produced classic has a blonde-hair blue-eyes bruh singing, “La da dee, la dee dow.”
From there the music treks deep into extraterrestrial territory. Anthony George Patrice’s “Nujan” evokes the spirits of transitioned house heads to join the dance. The “Black Messiah” a cappella plays over drumming percussions before Prince croons, “I Wanna Be Your Lover” (a cappella).
Karizma
Truth-be-told, Karizma does not play music. Karizma interprets music. He becomes a conduit of fanatical rhythms of factious melodies. Born Christopher Clayton in Baltimore, Maryland, his music experience started when singing in the church choir. Soon after, he picked up the art of playing music at his first party as a young teenager. Inspired by the likes of DJs who created the Baltimore club sound, he began to play in nightclubs and create music. Be it his many monikers, Kristopher Klayton, Kaytronik or K2, his music incorporates elements for every palate. Karizma’s pursuit tells tales amongst stutters, echoes, and hot cues. He commands the groove, cultivating its core. His music is a climatic expression deemed bold often in-your-face. More so, his sound is distinguishable. What defines Karizma’s music is texture, less toning. Listen to his music’s journey. You will be hard-pressed to hear a standard tempo. Instead he pulls from a vast repertoire of tonality that emphasizes mood. There are melodious chords, interposed from other singular elements, maybe a surprising vocal interspersed throughout navigating uncharted flair. All eschew from the brilliant mind. You hear it in “The Power.” Lush fusion meets raw. The Power defies. It’s captivating and holding all in its grasping spell.
Unplugged
“My favorite Gathering was when Jovann Armstrong played,” recalls Ramon. “That was back when we hosted the party at a warehouse on the Northwest of town. Every hour the power kept going out. Jovann was angry. Someone would have to plug the cord back into the outlet. Up stepped a dancer. ‘I got this,’ she said. Every time the power stopped, she plugged the chord back into the outlet and the party kept going. At the time I was not impressed. However, looking back that is my favorite moment. I saw how we have dedicated people in our midst.”
Look across the room, this admiration and dedication shows on familial faces to this day. Shout outs to the spirit dancer, the circle dancer, the hatted dancer, @dancinhousehead, KW, the Free Your Soul DJ, everybody’s favorite photographer, Ghostcam, toasted ink, the Nightingale, DJ Housecat, the Madam, the Model and MC Kiwi all faithfuls who keep the party going.
“I don’t quit.” Ramon further emphasizes. “I’m not a quitter. Something in my spirit says keep going. I feel as if I still have something left to give.” He continues, “I want to dispel the rumors of what is house music. House music is rhythm and blues. House music is Kem and Jill Scott.”
House music is Chaka Khan too. The familiarity of “I Know You, I Live You,” (Kaytronik Dub) receives the rowdiest applause by far. And when the Tall Black Guy x Chaka Khan (Re-Rub Vocal) drops, seen are several souls scurrying from both restrooms and emptying onto the dance space.
Massive
When Karizma signed on to release the “Deadpool EP” on the Netherlands based label Lumberjacks In Hell, he might not have anticipated what was to come. One of his contributions included a barely five-minute track. The chorus, an all-to-familiar verse to those raised in black churches and fed gospel music-is catchy. The beat ripped from a remix is simple, yet compelling. The song would become an international acclaimed summer hit, played at parties and festivals around the globe. To the point Silicon Valley caught ear and used it in one of their advertisement campaigns. For a music producer, let alone a soulful house music producer, to score worldwide success is massive. But that is Karizma, massive. When he drops his massive track “Work It Out.” Dancers take note. One dancer falls over, as he stomps his feet on the floor, a woman seated on the wooden bench leaps into the air, jumping up-and-down with upstretched arms.
Ramon has to smile at the spectacle before him. He knew it along. “The Gathering was to be church,” he says explaining the party’s purpose. “We (The DJs) are ministers of sound. We play for the people who need to hear music.”
“After the week I’ve had, whew…I so needed this (party).” Someone whispers into an ear in this social distancing climate of cancel culture.
You’ve been dancing for 25 hours
“Stop showing off.” A lady says to one dancer as she passes the bar.
Another woman, dressed in all black notes, “You’ve been dancing for 25 hours,” to the same dancer spinning around in circles to Rocco Radamaal and Keith Thompson’s “Break 4 Love.” The Raze cover never sounded so refreshing. Of course, it’s the Kaytronik Not Worried Mix.
Likewise, no one appears worried at all, when the venue’s lights shine brightly. The sight of thirty bodies moving, grooving, swaying and singing the lyrics to a slow-grind of Aniya Baker’s “Sweet Love” is most impressive. The smash-up comes to a fade-out that signals time to leave. It took 15 years to get to this momentous occasion. No one wants this anniversary celebration to end. Although the time reads 4 am thanks to losing an hour for daylight savings time.
This is how the Gathering’s founder conducts himself in life. Ramon delivers the best product. “I don’t believe in taking short cuts. I expect a certain level of excellence and that excellence is what I give. I want people to leave, feeling like they were taken care.” Outdoors, standing in the crisp air, most certainly, the smiling faces and hearty laughter, proves so.
Thanks to the Gathering for 15 years of music and dancing.
Dedicated to Sam “The Man” Burns
wrds: aj dance
grphcs: aj art
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Tags: afro house music, Atlanta Georgia, dancing, house music, house music dancing, Kai Alce, Karizma, Karizma Kaytronik, NDATL, Ramon Rawsoul, soulful house music, The Gathering, The Music Room