The Sun. The Rain. The Super Moon.
“Put em’ up. Put em’ up. Put em’ up.” The host yells into the microphone. There is not one but two of em yelling into microphones. Their mumblings about someone later giving hugs and then that someone giving two hugs after dark. All the while the deejay appears perplexed. Confused at the vocal back and forth between the two. Against the soundtrack of snaps and hiss on Mary Mary’s “Walking.”
Your head hangs low, sadly, it’s going to be one of those events.
The event with people incessantly talking into a microphone as deejays play music. Especially, house music. This is not r&b, soul, hip hop, dancehall, reggae, or even drum n’ bass where masters of ceremonies hypes the crowd, that music is more suited for day two’s event at Rock Steady Sound System Block Party. Today is about house music. Soulful house music. Vocal house music. Deep house music. Snoh Aalegra’s interpretation of “Do 4 Luv” entangled with Whitney Houston’s “I’m Every Woman,” are four-on-the floor thumpers. ‘Ontz, ontz, ontz,’ music has no place for shout-outs unless sung by Nina Simone on “I Put A Spell On You” (El Soulfrito Mix).
The “Put em’ up” continues long after Kai Alcé’s exit, and long before the next vibe selector appears. Yes, DJ Just Dizle’s playlist fits the narrative hype music. Anyone for “Thuggish Ruggish Bone?” The francophone’s transitions are brief, every one minute and thirty seconds before the next song is rushed into existence. That ADHD mixing clears the dance area.
At one point, there are more Rock Steady Sound System Block Party Ambassadors making the rounds than visiting guests. “Perhaps people have to work today,” explains one dancer seated on the curb. “Or they are waiting to come in the evening,” explains another lifelong house head seated on her lawn chair.
“Hydrate. Hydrate. Hydrate.” The verbose host’s baritone knocks you over like a verbal assault in a heatwave. Duh, bodies are sweating in the sun, 90 degrees to be exact on a July 4th extended weekend.
The most common asinine questions, heard too many times in far too many minutes are; “Where my ladies?”-“Where my New Yowkas? -Chicago.-Are you in da house? -Where my Atlantans at?-Make some noise.-Detroit you out there?-Miami?
And if vocalist David Anthony’s name is mentioned one more time, the crowd will ooh, they swear.
Then Philly’s Rich Medina marches back onto the stage to give a few words. Correction. He is being summoned to the stage to deejay.
Rich Medina brings the party back to the block party. A band of bodies draped in all white or various brights, dance to salsa, disco, Afro beat and every genre in between. Medina from Philly keeps his mouth closed as he plays. Except to chat with vocalist Barbara Tucker. As the nearby host babbles, “We gonna shake off that trap on you.”
“Trap music was never on me,” says one dancer serving a serious eye roll.
“We gon make you a legend,” the host rambles on….
“I’m already a legend.” She replies.
The people are ready for house music. Their wish is granted when Soul Saver’s “Another Day,” produced by Motor City’s Gerald Mitchell erupts crystal clear from several sound cabinets adjacent the stage. Where to the right, audio engineers control the decimals and pitch behind a Rock Steady black tarp. But damn, the vibe is ruined with the continued talking. Talk mouths. Diarrea falling from their lips. And when the screaming host needs a break, guess what, someone else walks up onstage, mic in hand and spits more nonsense.
Like “Mis Puerto Ricans están aquí.” True they have arrived. Perhaps they want to arrive in peace. Minus the unnecessary PSA.
From the fourth floor balcony of a residential complex a university student casually views below the layout of food trucks, picnic tables, cabanas, hairstyles, and stage positioned in the rear parking lot at Rock Steady, the restaurant located near Northside Drive as Bebe Winans belts “He will deliver.” Yes, Lawd. Please, deliver us from all the “Tip your bartender and make a friend with a bartender” suggestions.
Things get worse. Like catcalls from the stage worse. “Hey girl.” Smacks his lips. “I see you with your fine self.” Ewww. Gross. He continues. “Real men, love real women.” So, only a man can love a woman fully? “100% all woman.” What about woman who love woman? Look around, there stands two women holding hands. Oops, the host has no clue cause he is too busy shuckin’ and jivin’ onstage. And are they to be excluded? Who? The LGBTQ community at the Block Party. Another look around, reveals the lack of inclusion; gay men, trans, and the gender fluidity.
“Can someone tell him to shut the fu-k up?”
“We all want to.” Someone replies while two-stepping before yelling, “Medina is playing, “There Some Hoes In Dis House!”
Mother Nature’s Fireworks
“If we all came together, we could get that to leave.” Her index finger pointing. At that, as in the gathered grey mass consuming the sky. “Oh well, the rain won’t drive us away,” says the MC over Louie Vega starring Monique Bingham’s “Elevator (Going Up).” At this moment the music selector switches. Chicago’s Terry Hunter takes the reins. As he starts to play, droplets fall. People scurry. They grab their lawn chairs. They take cover. They disappear. Their hair!
The rain dance is on. There is a cleansing release shuffling in showers. The water falls heavier. The beat goes harder. The sounds of acid continue for a good five minutes more before Terry Hunter’s best set ever is hushed. “We are going inside,” announces the MC. Lightning is in the forecast. Suddenly, boom and flashes strike from weighty, low reaching cumulonimbus. Mother nature’s fireworks. Everyone left standing runs for cover, underneath cabanas. Into the building. Up the stairs. Or through a side entrance. Only those with a certain wrist band can enter downstairs. Scores of the soaked are turned away. “Go upstairs.” They are told. “Booo.” People hurl insults at the two security guards standing at the door. Their turning away an auntie with her roller is not cool. Also, the two abhorrent gatekeepers refuse to walk her upstairs in the downpour. This is crazy. Today’s youth has no respect for their elders. The storm continues. The sky is totally angry.
Upstairs, the party continues inside the art gallery. The area blanketed with too many floor rugs. Surprisingly the space is not packed amongst the superfluous coffee tables, sofas, and chairs. The music bumps along until the Chosen Few’s Hunter brings the church with “I thank God for goodness and how He set me free.” When the music disapates the crowd screams “Grateful!” Terry is hittin’ em’ with his best set ever! Thankfully the babbling has stopped. No one is narrating the music. If that’s what it’s called.
The most hype song played is Masters At Work, “The Ha Drop.” The Kenny Dope Remix ignites bodies to jump and spin. Brooklyn’s Tony Touch is in the building, hunched over wearing a black backpack over a blue tee looking befuddled. No one knows where to go. Or what to do. The hip hop legend appears to walk back outside. As Hunter closes with his GRAMMY nominated remix of Beyonce’s “Break My Soul.”
The Super Moon
Tony Touch
The block party moves back to the rear parking lot. We back outside ya’ll! Where twilight welcomes darkness and a new moon. Where the party people are gathered. Smiling. Swaying. Snapping fingers. As though a treacherous storm never reared its ugly gowl an hour earlier. Underneath a bright spectrum of wattage, Touch is ripping the box playing his boy’s Louie Vega & Josh Milan’s Truth Dub 1 of the late Loleatta Holloway’s “Can’t Let You Go.” Now lifestyle guru Kenny Burns is yelling “Toca.” Annoyingly over the fan favorite “Apaga la Luz.” The self-proclaimed light-skin but a Scorpio fails to impress. The shout-outs about beef empanadas to “My Caribbeans, Dominicans, Guyanese, Jamaicans, Trinidadians, Columbians, and Puerto Ricans” are cumbersome. Yes, Rock Steady caters to the Afro-Caribbean crowd, we understand, but damn. Damn. Damn.
“There is too much going on.” A familiar voice observes. Where? “Up there.” Onstage. Dancers shaking ass. One dancer is all limbs with no roots. Burns appears, joining the dance crew for the wobble. He is having his Drake moment when rapping and shouting “Aye” into the microphone.
The eye moves from the media personality and booty bouncers to lone Tony Touch in the background standing behind the ones and twos mixing into OVEOUS & QVLN’s “Queimar” (Ezel Remix). Tocas’ one hour house music journey closes on a high with Sin Palabras’ “Yemaya.” The Yoruba Soul Mix brings the bass and boom. When the energy explodes. Onstage to the concrete. “Yo Tony, what’s going on?” The Morehouse alumni asks. Imagine facial expressions viewing all the booties bouncing to the Yoruba orisha of motherhood and water. If Yemaya gives life, then so too the bouncing asses. Them booties giving life to the gathered mid-size crowd of ogles and awes. Where a handful realizes this is a dance ritual. Spiritual music. The ancestors communicating with the flesh through movement. Then the music abruptly changes. Anyone for Sugarhill Gang’s “Apache (Jump On It)?”
Head hangs low, this has become a circus. Can someone, please, save this party from itself?
Then it happens.
The only artist to escape the hype man appears stage right. “I need more monitor,” the familiar voice announces. The music gives a false start, like a track star leaping before the “pow.” The deejay appears clueless. It wasn’t me, reads his visage. Oops. The crowd patiently waits mere seconds before she appears. Her hour glass frame packed tight into a body suit with belt harness in silver. Her smile glows. Her curved eye lashes ready to fly. Her face is beat for the goddesses.
Crystal Waters
Rock Steady’s headliner, opens with an intro from “In De Ghetto” made a cult classic by David Morales and the Bad Yard Club. “Party People!” She yells as she launches in “Makin’ Happy” the Steve Silk Hurley produced that peaked at the top of the dance world. Next she drops her debut single, the household anthem, the song everyone remembers, “Gypsy Woman (She’s Homeless)” that has everyone singing “La da dee, la dee da.” The Basement Boys produced classic segues into their hit “100% Pure Love.” Mouths singing. Fists in the air. Bodies thrust into the air. At one point, Water’s deliciously chiseled two male dancers, lift her off the ground, and spins the Queen around high in the air, without dropping her tiny frame. Perfect acrobatic maneuver for her best beloved number. The crowd loses their locs. Their wigs snatched. Their edges torn. She closes with a smash up of “Destination Unknown” from the mid aughts. “Party People” the “2B Luved” singer yells again into the mic. Perhaps. Fingers crossed. Just maybe she will launch into the DJ Spen and Micfreek track of the same name. Disappointedly no.
Waters ate and she ate good. Talk about a show stopper. The diva is a legend after 30 plus years in the music industry. She proved you don’t need all the hype to give the best house/club live performance ever. One person said it best, “House Music does not need to be talked over. The music speaks for itself.”
wrds: aj dance
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Tags: #dancefloormagic #housemusicexcellence, afro house music, Atlanta Georgia, Crystal Waters, deep house music, DJ Just Dizle, gospel house music, house music, house music dancing, Kai Alce, NDATL Music, Rich Medina, Rock Steady restaurant, Rock Steady Sound System Block Party, soulful house music, Terry Hunter, Tony Touch, Ts Box Records