TRILOGY-ACTS 5 & 6: NYC LOUIE VEGA, DEON COLE & KENNY DOPE
ACT 5
1600
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 mortar 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.
“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) semicirculating 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?”
1700
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 thump 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 tattooed 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’s da freaks?” 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 emit 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.
1900
“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 babyfaced 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.
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 scattered. 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!
MASTERS AT WORK
ACT 6
2100
Darkness has crept up to slowly reveal its face. Black. Devoid of light. That traces around and about the atmosphere. Invisible. Upward, the stars keep watch over night. Night’s all seeing eye, the moon is lucent, keeps watch over the people, the party, the property.
Where there shines additional sources of luminescence. Artificial. Blues. Reds. Purples. Illuminates the stage. Revealing movement. Shapes and sizes. Figures. Standing in awe. Before eyes. The spectacular takes place.
Onstage. Overhead, hangs a state of the art audio speaker rig that intermingles with leafy branches falling from suspended pots. A lighting tower holding several performance spotlights rotates 360 degrees before casting shadows dancing on the lush greenery surrounding the backdrop of brick and window. Underneath a giant disco ball, reflecting. In front the foliage. Stands two individuals. The more gregarious of the two sports a Perfect Season gold jersey as the more hushed, deadpan personality wears a maroon tee, the colors of both garments compliment the other. Instantaneously, the figures appear united. Their music. Through song, slider, and pitch control. All for the love of house. All for the love of music. Kenny Dope the Broken Beat King with his adoration for hip hop and reggae is fused with King Louie’s Latin house, percussions, and vocal roots. As one collective mind. Each acknowledges the other. A head nod here. A head shake there. Even a whisper or two at times. Their intuitive language although unspoken reads as one. They’re inside jokes. The winks. The laughter. The two are a front. A force to be reckon. A musical military. Where before, they were individual masters at work, together they become gods at work.
Deities. They’re super powers on display. Their force is wholly realized. When Lood’s featuring the late Donnell Rush “Shout-N-Out” causes abrupt pandemonium. The first track played sends veteran dancers into hysteria. Their torsos bent over, lips snarled revealing ugly faces.
Instantly, the atmosphere changes. - Feel the magic. The culture shifts - View the sea of muddied faces. Where did all these people come from? The ground transforms. - The once background patio now resembles a 200,000 square feet amphitheater. Listen to the amplified voices of the packed tight to full capacity. The virgin of ears, their first Masters At Work live performance, inquirer. What’s all the fuss?
To fully understand the scope and impact that is Masters at Work. Time travel back to 1990 when NYC Garage ruled. Folklore tells the name Masters At Work was conceptualized and given to Kenny Dope Gonzalez and Little Louie Vega by Todd “Da God” Terry. However, Kenny Dope clarifies in his bio on Resident Advisor, the name originated when he and Mike Delgado threw neighborhood parties and later loaned the moniker to his music mentor Terry. In return, Terry introduced Gonzalez to Bronx’s Little Louie Vega who worked with an upriser named Marc Anthony. Kenny and Louie’s claim to fame soared remixing Debbie Gibson’s “One Step Ahead” on Atlantic Records of that year. Forward on, their calling card went throughout the lucrative music industry. Everyone had to have a MAW remix. Up-and-comers Mood II Swing, they mentored. Vega’s all night studio sessions became legend, a revolving door of vocalists and musicians ranging from Carole Sylvan, Michael Watford, to the Puerto Rican Princess of Salsa India.
Of course, in one of those all nighters Barbara Tucker recorded “I Get Lifted.” The Bar Dub that Kenny Dope plays on loop or is Louie Vega cueing his & The Martinez Brothers’ featuring Marc E. Bass “Let It Go” (TMBLV Dub)? Who cares? Who plays what song is less important. More interesting are the several bodies experiencing sporadic bouts of fits, feet kicking up dust, and fingers swiping the concrete on Honey Dijon’s featuring Annette Bowen & Nikki-O “Downtown” (Louie Vega Extended Raw Dub Mix).
Peak hour arrives courtesy the Queen of Night Life Loleatta Holloway’s “Dreaming’” (a cappella) riding over the Kenny Dope Remix of MAW’s “The Ha Drop.” The ballroom anthem heavily sampled, reworked, flipped, and re-edited, over the many decades.
That rawness, the grit of MAW’s signature NYC garage sound has been copied the world over. Albeit, imitation is the highest form of flattery as their imprint was solidified a global phenomenon in that final decade of the 20th century. The duo continued to release music as both production partners and individually. Anyone remember the cult classic Bucketheads’ “The Bomb! (These Sounds Fall Into My Mind)?” The two Puerto Rican heritage/New Yorkers for life portmanteau the Nuyorican Soul moniker. Their masterpiece of the same name released on Talkin’ Loud in 97’. That featured the sensational release “It’s Alright, I feel It!” with mind blowing vocals from diva Jocelyn Brown. That has you Holy Ghost dancing. Mid song, when the drum solo kicks ass. Mouths emit screams that travel upward the heavens. Your arms are stretched in the air, hands open to receive, as Brown decrees, “Everything will be alright.” Can you feel it?
Music is more than a feeling. Music is healing. Where expectation and manifestation vertex. Here, people are not caught up in the moment. People are having a moment with the music. The crowd swept into an energy unseen thus far.
Rewind the hands of time back to the turn of the century, when the MAW released their final long-playing album “Our Time Is Coming.” That spawned the classic “Work” featuring Trinidadian vocalist Denise Belfon who commands “Go down,” the dancers slow wind to the ground over by the restrooms number 2. Where youthful faced braid wearing security guards the entrance to the stage. Earlier, the movement of dance originated by the artificial arcadian on the left of the backyard in front of the courtyard covered with faux green turf. The movement snaked to the left, then right, like the derrières defying gravity and bouncing upward at Belfon’s command, “Come up.” From there the dance moved in front of the stage - a rarity as most dance rituals crop towards the rear spaces behind throngs of standees - when Brooklynite Tony Touch yells “Apaga La Luz,” not in person, but on the OG Main Mix.
“Bop, bop, bop, - bop, bop, bop, po.” The drums speak. “Bop. Bop.” Listen closer. “Bop. Bop.” Their message beating in the pulse. The drums go deep. Deep into the heart of the Motherland. The standout tune arrives when the familiar rhythm dissipates and only the percussions are left to perform. Onstage, a woman dressed in a blue denim jacket and white tank shimmies her shoulders in perfect sync on every count. When Caiiro’s “The Akan” drops in full the temperature explodes. Heaps of coal dances on heads. The outdoor space, a boiler room in its former life, is aglow of red from strobes beaming into space. There on the upper level wall, behind the control center, are coded messages dancing in circles.
52-19 Flushing Avenue is a stalwart, having served purpose for over a century. The building has survived the prohibition, the Great Depression, two distant world wars, 9/11 and a recent pandemic. Once a glass factory, turned door company, Knockdown Center is now an art space by weekday and party central on weekends. Some of the best events in the tri-state are held at the address. Despite the surrounding residential noise complaints and their disdain for drunken debauchery, and the recent cellphone theft rings-Knockdown is magic. A venue most cities would heart to embrace within their vicinity.
“My neighbors are listening to great music whether they like it or not.” The old meme rings true for the residents nearby Knockdown. Who are treated to the “Harr-ruff” and bass lick on Themba’s “Who Is Themba?” and when the drum’s sputtering breaks down into 4 counts on Ivan Afro5’s “Strange” (Peek Afro Re Up) sonic shrills charge the soundscape over the property’s perimeter and blesses households near and far.
A Strictly Rhythm tee bounces over here. An Expansions In the NYC tee appears over there. Familiar faces shine bright wattage. The stage lit. Beams from strobes reveal a motley cast of characters. Wives two-stepping in circles. Cups held in the air. Promoters with their recording paraphernalia filming the swaying mass. Sound engineers pressing buttons on the several hardware components. The duo’s entourage are partying onstage.
The scene resembles time before the avid vinyl collector and “Latin Lover” seemingly went on hiatus, unofficially, several months after releasing “Our Time Is Coming.” Perhaps their time coming was not foretold as dyadic masters, as their time coming as singular talents. Their accomplishing “to do” lists. Vega Records. Elements of Life. Producing neo soul crooners. There was a gramophone win. A televised pre-performance at the Big Game. And so much more to their storied testaments of individual pursuits. At the right time, fifteen years later, their MAW Records catalog relaunched on download and streaming sites with River Ocean’s featuring India “Love & Happiness (Yemaya Y Ochùn),” “Yay!” Screams a dancer wearing a white lace top and white pants with fist held in the air, “Voices In My Mind” (MAW Unreleased Bass Mix), invigorates and Kenlou’s “The Bounce” rounds out the surprise playlist after a seven hour day of dance. Whew. Gonzalez keeps the music playing with his Kenny Dope Mix for Jersey’s Raheem DeVanghn’s first single released, “Guess Who Loves You More.” He too having received a GRAMMY nomination for his contribution with the Newark born singer. That’s Vega and Gonzalez ever involved with heavy tour schedules, production demands, and running music labels. If there was ever a blueprint of how to be successful and have longevity in underground dance music. Kenny and Louie have written volumes.
“I hope you enjoyed the surprise Masters At Work set.” Vega tells the crowd, microphone in hand. The host with the most. An afterthought lingers in mind. Naw, naw. The party was not supposed to end this way. No one said anything about a surprise MAW takeover. The people were unprepared. But it happened. Everyone survived. Some more than others. And no one is mad. Louie always has a surprise or two up his sleeve. He winks.
“Give it up for my pawtna, Mr. Kenny Dope.” A rousing chorus of cheers and claps drowns out the bass and brass on Oscar Sulley & The Uhuru Dance Band’s “Bukom Mashie” (JKriv Edit).
These brothas came out for my birthday.” Vega says with love. Hold up. Birthday? Insert needle drop scratch sound effect. This momentous event is actually King Louie’s born day celebration? Can’t tell whose special day it is when the celebrated celebrates the sold-out crowd with an impromptu gift of magnitude proportions. Now that’s class. “We about to take it (the party) inside, right now.”
First, a handshake and stop to meet Kev on the way to the food truck. “Honey, you need anything? He is asked. Thank you but no, Kev smiles. His heart warmed as he wheels in front the merchandise table that appears to have sold 80 percent of its product. “Expansions In The NYC” hoodies, tees, 12 and 7 inch vinyl. After several hours of dancing, you limp to the food truck. Famished. The line of ten wide-eyed hunched youth disperses into the black. Sold out! At 10:05 pm? Damn! The thought of not munching on a home baked crispy tortilla chip can’t ruin the vibe. Of another perfectly executed event. Every detail in place. No detail left out of place. So do it big or go home! Is how you throw a proper blowout for royalty who has completed another earth cycle around the sun. ¡Salute! Glasses raised. Happy Birthday to the King!
wrds: aj dance
grphc: aj art
vd: aj dance
phttrphy: aj dance
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