Thommy “Turn It Out” Davis
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His shirtless majesty showcasing chiseled pectorals is in beast mode. Playing heavy four-count thumps that erupts from giant black cabinets. And dancing in front of those speakers will cause hearing loss for days to come. “You’ve waited all week to dance,” proclaims a diva loudly rapping over a beat that slaps. Standing on the pavilion’s ledge is one man who leans into the ear of another and speaks, “More like [we waited] a year.”
Opening The World to House Music
“Opening the world to house music” reads the digital prospectus on social media weeks earlier. Today, at the public park located in Midtown Atlanta – vision is reality.
Enter Piedmont Park through the black steel gate. Feel the sunrays warm the neck. As a quick glance reveals the temperature hovers at 79 degrees. Trek onward to the lone pavilion center the park. The peripheral of the green covered structure is dotted with smaller red, blue, and black tops. Canopy city. Behold! The main attraction is within reach. Inside the pavilion, view a majestic melanin palette of every hue imaginable. Snapshot bodies mid kinetic acceleration of force and thrust. Press record. Camera phones capture the pavilion busting at the hinges. Hear the screams. As the “ontz, ontz, ontz,” hangs like a cloud over the Clara Meer Gazebo to the Active Oval. Bodies in motion absorb the reverb. Smiling faces flash blinding wattage in the glow of the sun. Voices chatter. Onlookers wonder. Passerby stops in their tracks. Behold the spectacular! Indigenous House celebrates 10 years at Piedmont Park Conservancy.
No small feat pulling off – post pandemic. The self-proclaimed original house people are back after a no-show last year. John Dennis and crew the people salute.
Inside the pavilion, the temperature scorches. So hot, the minister of music strips and plays in bling-bling undies. Looking luscious as a chocolate bar melting in heat, his sculpted physique stands behind his hardware, white phones, a DJ controller, and laptop. The beat is heavy. The drum kicks hard. The music bangs at 125 beats per minute or faster. Laden with talking guitars. Hissing snares. Crashing cymbals. Build-ups and beat drops. This is a Baltimore smack down.
Courtesy, Thommy “Turn It Out” Davis. Thommy Davis the Charm City native? Thommy Davis the proud voice of Baltimore house music? Thommy Davis the co-founder of the Basement Boys? Thommy Davis the recording label founder? Thommy Davis alongside DJ Spen on Quantize/Unquantize Recordings? Thommy the world-renowed DJ? Thommy the music producer? Thommy the songwriter? Hell yeah.
Mr. Davis goes back, way back. He has been involved in music longer than the average age of the attendees at the event. The “Gypsy Woman (She Homeless)” music producer is no stranger to the Indigenous parties, having headlined for several consecutive years, minus last year’s annus horribilis.
The I can’t believe he is age sixty-something, hits em’ where it hurts. As grandma would say, dat boy Thommy put a good ole’ fashion beatin’ on the crowd. That cat whipped em’ real good. Had the people whootin’ and hollerin.’ Complete with additional scream track. Em’ people were runnin’ every direction.
Take, playing Leela James’ “My Joy.” – The Quentin Harris Mix stutters. The remix is stuck on repeat? Or not. Dancing feet are caught off guard. As when the mouths of babes are ready for the vocal to drop. Bam! Every two bars loops and loops and loops. The song might disappear. Altogether abandoned for the next track to begin. Mr. Davis plays with the gathered congregation. He keeps dancers on their feet. Guessing where the rhythm goes. – The crowd spasms. Hands are everywhere. Sweat rags fly in the air. Perspiration stains the backs of shirts. Voices scream. “Beeeep.” Whistles blow. Bodies jump. Sneakers stomp. This is a house music party gone wild.
When the playlist suddenly goes blue lights and bellbottoms. “Loooove, taught me,” sings a harmonious sea of voices. The crowd’s chant blankets the lawn east to west. And when the music starts, Diana Ross sings. “The Boss” as feet rejoices. Bodies fly into the air. Mouths expand from ear-to-ear. People lose their minds. The Ashford and Simpson penned cult classic is peek hour disco.
For Tommy his love is playing the music he came of age with. That which speaks volumes is his heart belongs to dance music. He would not have it any other way. Be producing hip-hop or quiet stormers. He is a dancer first. He understands the choreography of the dance floor. The makings that make bodies groove. Or better yet, that which makes people lose their shit.
Evident when the music comes to a halt. Orchestrated strings descend from heaven. The space is swept up in rapture. Within seconds the melody is recognized, the O’Jay’s cover by Randy Roberts and Richard Burton’s “Stairway to Heaven” (Spen & Thommy Original Mix). “Don’t you wanna, don’t you wanna, don’t you wanna go?” Skating by is a twenty-something lady wearing roller skates. She tangos with a guy wearing sneakers. But when he dips her low and she kicks her right leg into the air. Wow!
Certain songs evoke magic. And certain ministers of music evoke the best in people. This is the testament of the music Thommy Davis plays. He is #dancefloormagic.
wrds: aj dance
visual: aj art
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Tags: #dancefloormagic #housemusicexcellence, Atlanta, Atlanta Georgia, Baltimore House Music, Basement Boys, Code Red Recordings, dance floor, dance music, dancing, deep house music, disco music, Gospel House, house music, house music dancing, Indigenous House Music Festival, Mr. Davis, Piedmont Park, Quantize Recordings, Thommy Davis, Unquantize Recordings