LOUIE VEGA, DEON COLE, & KENNY DOPE 10.06.23 Pt. I

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Music. Is the reason for this journey. An expedition meandering through space and time.  Arriving.  At the V.  Where 54th Street veers from Flushing Avenue. In Maspeth.  A working class community located somewhere in the borough of Queens.  That is New York City.  Where a brick and motor mammoth slumps with two erected smoke stacks.  That eyes you. Only if in your imagination.  That beckons you to enter its ingress. Crushing gravel beneath your soles. As your bag is checked. Electronic ticket is scanned. And your wrist is branded white with red dots. Enjoy! Security smiles. All before you kick more rocks. Past the food truck.  Across from the lonely picnic tables. There you eye the expanse.  A massive slab of concrete sloped downward towards a music stage. State of the art light rigs. Hanging sound gear. Fog machines.  Where twenty early birds dance in seventy-seven degree heat underneath scattered cirrus levitating across the oceanic azul.  

Louie Vega 

“This road we’re on shows a dark destiny.” As your feet hit the pavement you overhear.  “I feel the end of humanity.” Jeffrey Osborne sings. The lyrics are much aligned to the current crisis the world faces. Artificial Intelligence. Wildfires.  Hazardous breathing air.  The apocalypse?  There is a sense of urgency, not only in your walk, but in your heart.  “Father, father I know you are there/I lift my voice/Hear my prayer.”

“Even in the sad times, I wanna dance.” Where there is hardship, there is rejoicing through storms.  “When I should be crying/You make me wanna…”  Louie Vega brings the “Dance.”  His Dance Ritual Version of the 3 Winans Brothers featuring the Clark Sisters feels appropriate.  The anthem plays naked with no a cappella or production theatrics, that welcomes attendees entering…”Heyyyyy!!!” There appears a familiar face.  Wide smile. Bright eyes behind black rounded rims. Melanin and mocha.  Blonde cropped curls.  She gives you the heartiest hug ever. Atlanta’s Andibop is at the Ruins.  

Knockdown Center’s backyard is a fan favorite amongst artists, performers and music enthusiasts. Nothing compares to dancing outdoors.  After all, this summer, we outside! A year ago, your debut dancing on the outdoor patio in eighty-some degree heat in mid-July yielded disappointment.  The blame.  Not the former glass and former door factory, but a discombobulated playlist lacking soul.  Today.  Hope prevails. Already the music played is fire. 

There too runs Atlanta’s Solenotes photographing feet shuffling in all their glory.  Recorded images of bodies in motion.  Eye candy provided by the man wearing a gender neutral bathing suit throwing out his ass and twerking.  His friend, wearing cargo pants with oversized pockets, duck walks.  “Are you taking anything?” Cargo pants rubs her hand across the lengthy width of his upper bicep. “Cause you are getting bigger.”  Their youthful brown frames wreath to disco – L.T.D featuring Jeffrey Osborne’s “Love to the World,” gospel – “Dance” (Dance Ritual Remix), funk – George Clinton rapping “Ain’t That Funkin’ Kinda Hard On You?”(Louie Vega Remix), jazz – Monique Bingham crooning “Elevator (Going Up)” (Dance Ritual Dub) and the groove – Kerri Chandler’s “Let it” [Basic Club], all speaks volumes.  Vega at his best plays his sermon of hope, peace and love. Dropping into the mix, the new school, Honeysweet’s “Exodus Of 21,” alongside the old school, Shuggie Otis’ “Strawberry Letter 23,” both round out the two hour opening ceremony.  As the spotlight is not so much shining on Vega as it is to whom Vega shines the spotlight on.  

Seven weeks earlier, recall staring at the night sky, the twinkling stars and thinking, hmm, Vega should throw a music festival. Well this is the closest diehards will get to experiencing an Elements of Life Festival. Fresh from his residence in Ibiza, Vega visits home for his only US performance of the summer before jetting back to Club Chinois on the Illes Balears.  Today’s main event is twofold.  No-holds-barred.  A TKO.  In corner one, an outdoor day party with a certain stand up comedian/actor and Vega’s music partner of decades playing on the ones and twos at the Ruins.  In corner two, an indoor night party with the venue’s spotlight artist from Detroit and Louie’s wife gracing the decks.  Apropos, the venue is aptly named the Knockdown Center. 

Watch for the guy wearing the technoHub  tee driving his wheelchair. He bounces his shoulders up and down, snapping his fingers to Barbara Tucker’s “I Get Lifted” (The Bar Dub) semicircular his friends. Vega tears down brick by brick the boundaries of elitism and privilege.  Making the open air celebration accessible for all to experience.  The fedora King, crowned in a gold with orange brim, wearing tinted lenses and sporting a Supreme gold jersey with the number 23 stitched in maroon, turns over music duties. 

“Excuse me but I have a dumb question.” A young man walks up and asks you.  His eyes hiding behind black aviators.  “Are those pants?” He continues. “Or a sarong?”

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Hush. You can hear a pin drop. An air of silence hangs over the 19,000 square feet like orange clouds.  You know that awkward silence. The stillness. Those deathly stares. Their folded arms. The air reeks of “and what are you going to play.” Listening ears lean in closer. 

“Give yourself to meeeeee.” Sinnaman sings from “I Need You Now.”  Hello. 1983 just called and she wants her music back. 

The a cappella repeats on loop for minutes.  This is not a great first impression.  “Don’t hold back the feeling…”

And finally, the thumpeety thumps of beating percussions charge at the seventy some house heads like the four horsemen galloping into the battle of Armageddon. And when the heads recognize the falsetto asking, “Don’t you need a friend?” When the brass section sounds, the heads yell. A panoramic view of the grounds reveals a family reunion.  Like elders reuniting with lost childhood friends from disco’s golden era.  Their smiles. Their spinning around with arms outstretched. Their energy excited.  Full acceptance and relief are felt.  All it takes is playing the late Eddie Kendrick’s gospel fueled “Friend of Mine.”  Who knew? 

Deon Cole

“He is really good,” says the woman with plunging braids sounding surprised as if a comedian/comedy writer/actor can actually deejay.  Albeit Deon Cole is less Hollywood and more Chicago.  Today.  Take his tatted entire left arm sleeve. Tats falling down his right bicep. Cole’s mixing is not impeccable as is his song selections. The deodorant/body wash spokesman knows his music. Be Afro, Soulfreakah’s “A Cure for Heartache” that makes perfect two-stepping in the warm embrace of the sun’s rays, boogie to the perfect summer anthem Crackazat’s “Fly Away,” never tire of the Yoruba classic, Afefe Iku’s “Mirror Dance” and sing along to the anthem, Lil Louis featuring Chinahblac’s “Fable” (The Director’s Cut Classic Club Mix) that brings cheers and widespread commotion when Christoper Cross sings “Fly Like The Wind.”  Where the Freaks At?”  MC Vega steps to the microphone and announces Cole’s newly recorded project.  “Yep, he makes records now,” Louie teases.  The only questionable tune playing is Kenny Bobien singing “Old Landmark” that goes way back. Where did the Joe Claussell’s Mission For Today Vocal Mix come from? What was the Average Joe actor thinking? Oh well, church time.  

“Eve-ry bo-dy clap your hands.”  New Jersey’s Bobien commands.  Survey a sea of multi-hue appendages soul-clapping in the air.  And that’s not even the WTF moment.   

That moment comes courtesy when the music stops.  The Blackish alum is set to exit stage left.  When boom!  The music starts.  Surprise!  Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit” blasts from the arena size sound cabinets.  Subwoofers emitting wobbles and sonic booms.  Out comes the head bangers. Their fists in the air. Their bodies thrusting vertically.  Wow! This is a whole vibe. 

Above the full length bar, march up the stairs onto the upper platform where a hovering drone records the moment. Standing on the factitious structure provides aerial views of the action taking place below. Where onstage the transition from Roseland/Chicago to Sunset Park/Brooklyn comes full circle.  

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“I’m not Hollywood, I’m Brooklyn” reads the logo that wins the best tee shirt award. The recipient dances towards center stage for greater visibility.  Where a multitude of haggard millennials and baby faced Xers stand upright, awaiting his opening number. Strangely the aunties and uncles present earlier, have disappeared.  What a shame.  Must be taco time at the food truck. 

“A Slave to the Rhythm,” the instantly recognizable voice from NYC’s Queen of Avant Garde welcomes additional visages of bewilderment onto the concrete patio. Grace Jones’ “Operattack” commands you to feel every single word, every pronounced syllable.  That is injected into all four limbs. That rushes through the veins. For a jolt of heart pounding shock. That causes the body to jump, jump, jump a little higher.  And when the syncopated drum loops and instrument samples and vocals drop, yo, shit gets real crazy.  

Like Miki Howard singing “Love Under New Management” crazy. WTF? 

Feel the drums beat.  Listen to their speaking.  The language of broken beats.  Sputtering and choppy.  Their pitter/patter over a four on the floor.  Is his claim to fame.  Long ago, in Europe, when watching jazz dancers rehearse, he hypothesized the strike and staccato.  Those syncopated drums.  His signature sound.  First, heard on the Nuyorican Soul’s “The Nervous Track.”  Some thirty years earlier.  Three decades later, today is his welcome debut in the Ruins at Knockdown Center.  His longtime production partner Louie Vega rouses the at capacity attendees to give it up for the one and only Kenny Dope Gonzalez.  

Kenny Dope Gonzalez

Find online, copied and pasted verbose bios about the legend’s attributes, defying accomplishments, and commercial hits.  Song after song, hit after hit, the four-time GRAMMY nominee needs no introduction.  Although, at times, the Bucketheads mastermind appears the more behind-the-scenes of the two masters.  Gonzalez tours less.  His music releases are scattering.  He rarely shows face at times.  

There he wobbles onstage, his barrel frame sporting a MAW tribal tee in maroon that hangs past his waist, his eyes framed behind specs.  The NYC born/Brooklyn bred Dope receives a fiery reception from the sea of congregants feeling the burn from the Ezel Remix of OVEOUS & QVLN’s “Queimar.” 

Front left side of the stage, be careful not to Mollywop  into another guest seated in his wheelchair as Da Capo featuring Tshepo King’s “Afrika” (Louie Vega Remix Vocal) excites.  The beats go hard.  The beats go Afro.  Spatial elements designed to dance in between.  

“Frankie Feliciano is over there.”  A dancer shouts.  True, everyone who is anyone is handclappin’ and stompin’ and shoutin’ to Ron Hall’s “Talk to God ‘Bout It” (Spen’s Sunday Service Re Edit).  A who’s who of house royalty is welcomed to the church of Byron Stingily and Kerri Chandler’s “Testify” (Long Dub).  Even the Pulitzer Prize for Music winner, Kendrick Lamar’s “I Got Loyalty” gets love.  Kenny Dope turns his head and eyes the man in flesh from Baltimore who remixed the track.  Karizma humbly bows.

A queen wears her vitiligo with pride. On display, uncovered, and unmasked as a black woman should.  Her lithe frame struts gracefully through throngs of bodies sweating to the Dance Ritual Mix of Josh Milan’s “Thinking About Your Body.”  By the way, Milan, who stands at the opposite end of the stage, will celebrate his 54th rotation around the sun with family and friends on a boat ride on the Hudson starring Atlanta’s DJ Kemit the next day.  The reason why so many ATLiens are in attendance.  

There standing left side the stage in mid-conversation is NDATL’s Kai Alcé sporting his vibrant flowery jacket courtesy a puma logo. Atlanta’s Godfather of House, DJ Ron Pulllman AKA Pullman Soul sits underneath tier two at a wooden picnic table woofing nachos and salsa.  “Excuse me, where are you from?” A reader and spiritualist asks. “Atlanta.”  A dancer replies. “Brooklyn.”  @deeeebo_x replies, a former Atlantan.  “There is DJ Kemit.” She points to the bar where the former Arrested Development deejay orders drinks.  Hotlanta’s “Ghostcam is on his way.” Andibop announces seated on unruly bedrock.  This is one big happy ATL family reunion of melomaniacs in Queens, until it isn’t.  

“You might think I’m crazy, for waking you up this late.”  He mouths to her.  His finger pointed as she grabs her heart on the stellar Dames Brown’s “What Would You Do?  The Expansions NYC Extended Dub Vocal has two longtime dance partners singing each lyric back and forth as each dances around the other.  They are spirited, he points at her again.  She cocks her head.  He makes a heart shape with his hands as she dips and spins around.  “Look at you black people up here having fun.” A stranger walks up and says, “I’m watching you two.” The woman smiles before dancing away to Harry Romero’s “Revolution” (Deep In Jersey Extended Mix) that drops bombs!  The patio explodes.  DJ Kemit’s wifey, we see you.  Mrs. Aisha throws down.  Her hips swaying left to right and feet shuffling all before disappearing into heavy fog. 

Knockdown Center has an obsession with jacking up the fog machines so much so the entire space is consumed in “cough, cough” haze.  And the smell!  Flashbacks from seventy-two hours earlier when the outdoor air turned orange and reeked of burning ash.  The air quality was worse than levels recorded in New Delhi, India!  My God, “Are we going to die?”  

Nope, not before “Music Is My Life,” “Deep Burnt,” and  Another Day In My Life,” (LV Re-Touch) all Vega’s Expansions In The NYC productions, concludes.  As one master pays tribute to another master.  Earlier, when playing Vega’s “A Place Where We Can All Be Free,” spoken word Janine Lyon’s synopsizes.  

“There is a place that we go/to let it all flow/to hear the Maestro/no cares or worries/Black and deep/sexy, Afro, Latin, jazzy/broken beats/where we can all be free.”  

Kenny musically gives Vega his flowers. And when Louie musically gets his flowers, he turns to the crowd, microphone in hand, to give the crowd an out of this world WTF!

TBC

wrds: aj dance

grphc: aj art

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