The Incredible Blog

Anjali and I went and saw MIA at the Roseland Theater this Thursday, November 15th. This was the second time we had seen her perform. The first time was two years earlier, when she was on tour with Gwen Stefani. We didn’t see her appearance at the Gwen Stefani show, but caught her at the after party at Aura. That was November 23rd, 2005. The after-party was only advertised on 95.5 FM. That station even had “Galang” on their playlist in preparation for that show. Anjali and I had been hanging out with my parents; it was the day before Thanksgiving. Afterwards we drove by Aura to see what was going on. We were ambivalent about going to the after party because we weren’t sure if MIA was going to actually perform there or not. We drove by the club and it looked completely dead. We parked a few blocks away and sat in the car debating about whether or not to go in. It could have gone either way, but Anjali finally rallied us and we went. Good man Bob Seashore at the door let us right in. MIA was a few songs into a five song set for about 40 or 50 people dancing in the center of a club that looked very empty. MIA was energetic and enthusiastic. The crowd loved her, and Anjali was even able to meet Maya briefly as her management dragged her out of the club. We knew she had a lot more fans than that in Portland, and we figured the slight turnout was due to the fact that the show was being exclusively advertised on 95.5, and that there must not have been that much of a crossover at that point between 95.5 listeners, and MIA fans. Or maybe it was just that a lot of her fans were under-21 and couldn’t get in to Aura, because the young’ns showed up in droves for the MIA show this Thursday.

Anjali started telling me about MIA in 2003 when “Galang” first dropped in England, and we have gobbled up her 12″s, mixtapes, leaked tracks, remixs, albums, etc. ever since. While I don’t love everything she does, her best stuff is among my favorite stuff out. Because we had been ordering her initial 12″s from England as they came out, when Arular dropped I felt like I was already super-familiar with all the best stuff from that album, and I didn’t play it that much once it came out. Likewise Anjali and I gobbled up all the pre-release tracks from Kala as they appeared, and by the time her 2nd album dropped, it felt like yesterday’s news. Other than the already-leaked tracks, only “Paper Planes ” seemed to add to her ouvre in a significant way. That makes two albums that I pined and pined for only to be really underwhelmed once they actually came out. I had Kala’s release date memorized for months, and when it finally dropped I was like, “That’s it?” Half-assed lyrical swipes, bad singing, and priorly-leaked tracks. Other than thinking that the chorus of “Sunshowers” was a tuneless butchering of the original “Sunshower” by Dr Buzzards Original Savannah Band, I really liked all of MIA’s own songs, and guest verses, prior to the release of Kala. I thought that her use of her voice and lyrics were always going to be gold on a song. Kala made me realize just how limited her abilities are, and just how important it is for her to work within her abilities to achieve her best. I find the lyrical borrowings on the album to be poorly performed and distracting. I think her singing is awful, and her cringe-worthy warbling of the bridge of “Jimmy” a tragic mangling of the gorgeous melody composed by Bappi Lahiri and originally sung by Parviti Khan. Leading up to Kala I thought that anything MIA did was going to be brilliant, and afterwards I felt like she is brilliant within a certain range, but that she must develop a better understanding of her limits. XR2 is still my favorite; I love Diplo’s chopped horns. I do like the original mp3 better than the album version, however.

Anjali and I arrived at the Roseland some time after 9pm. The show was sold-out, filled to the brim with young white Portlanders. I wondered to what extent Portland Desis might be hip to MIA, but if they are, they certainly weren’t at the show. MIA’s opener, The Cool Kids, had already performed. The few people I talked to weren’t feeling them at all, but those people weren’t that into hip-hop anyway, so I didn’t feel like I got all that informed of a critical perspective, just personal reactions. Anjali had wanted to get on the bill, and it would have been great if that had happened, because the sold-out crowd was treated to a long wait of muddy background music between the Cool Kids and MIA. The beginning of MIA’s performance was announced by a very looong video screen (longest I’ve ever seen) that took up the entire back of the stage, coming to life with a long monologue by an announcer speaking very emphatically in Japanese, with subtitles in English on the screen. It has been years since I studied Japanese, so I had no idea what he was saying, and since I wasn’t wearing my glasses, I couldn’t make out the subtitles either. I was surrounded by loud cheering from the crowd throughout the monologue; they were obviously pleased by some of the subtitles. Without understanding the Japanese, or being able to read the subtitles, I still had a feeling that the subtitles didn’t necessarily have anything to do with what was actually being said in Japanese by the announcer. Just a feeling.

The visuals were central to the power of the show, and used a lot of the high-contrast, pop art, flash, flash, flash style for which MIA is known. DJ Low Budget came out first and he was a very solid live DJ throughout the night, scratching, blending, you name it. The dominant sound of the evening was gushots. Gunshots, gunshots, gunshots. Over and over and over. As ubiquitious a sonic element as they are in many genres, I have never seen a performance so centered around the sound of gunfire. Loud firings over and over and over throughout the entire set. Like punctuation. As you read this review imagine you can hear the constant reports of gunfire.

MIA and her dancer/backup singer Cherry came out, dancing in front of the crowd. The energy was crazy, second only to Manu Chao’s crowd at the Roseland this year, in terms of adulation and intensity. Everyone was bouncing up and down to “Bamboo Banga” the beat of which introduced the MIA performance. I have never taken notes at a show before, but since there are so many things that I am aware of at the time when I am watching a performance, that I quickly forget later, it made me think that since I tend to be writing a fair amount of these show reviews, that I should take notes in the future. Luckily I found a blog post by Ernest Jasmine of Tacoma’s News Tribune, who managed to snake a set list from the show. I had taken sketchy set list notes after the show, and while I managed to note most of the songs played, and the new samples and loops that were added to the songs for the performance, I didn’t have the best memory of the exact order of all the tracks, which viewing the set list promptly remedied.

The crowd was hyped, and thrilled to the muddy, LOUD pounding of the backing tracks. I had really been looking forward to hearing XR2, and when she went into it three songs in I was disappointed at the lack of clarity of the central horn melody. The sound was mostly mud, with clear pants-rippling bass only appearing occasionally. The vocals were only somewhat audible, although they did come through clearly on the “Na na na na na na na” part of “Boyz” towards the end of her set. It wasn’t that there was no low-end, there was tons of low-end, it was just the consistency of thick mud. Anjali felt that people’s excitement had more to do with knowing the songs, and how they are supposed to sound, than the actual sonic presentation that evening. She noticed MIA pulling the mic away from her mouth several times while her voice continued singing, which made me wonder how much of her vocals were live, and how much were pre-recorded backing tracks. Cherry was very noticeably helping out on vocals at points, singing the chorus to “Sunshowers” in a very different style than the recorded version, although it wasn’t necessarily an improvement. At one point MIA came up to the front of the stage, turned sideways so the crowd could see her profile and did a sort of “sexy” dance I would expect from Fergie, or Beyonce, or whoever. With her oversized T-shirt her presence was not of the typical female pop star objectify-me variety, except for this brief moment, where I realized that she is very, very skinny. Not the stuff of which booty shaking is made. At another point the visuals were of several different clips of girls booty shaking. The imagery would have been completely typical if they were part of a mainstream male hip-hop video, but since it was MIA, I wondered what she was getting at. I imagined that she was reclaiming the beauty of women’s bodies and their dancing, or something along those lines, but it was very stereotypical imagery.

Here is the set list. I’ll interject occasional notes.

“Bamboo Banga” (Crowd loved it.)

“World Town”

“XR2” (I was really looking forward to this, but live it left me flat. Just OK. Everyone else was dancing, including MIA and Cherry.)

“Pull Up the People” (Before starting this song she said something along the lines of “Now its time to talk politics” or something like that. She never did talk politics, as a matter of fact.)

“Sunshowers”/”PSK” (At the time I thought, “Hey, that’s the beat of Schooly D’s 1985 classic P.S.K. playing over “Sunshowers.” A Philly tribute from Philly DJ Low Budget.)

“20 Dollar”/”Blue Monday” (When the “Blue Monday” instrumental came in people went crazy. Not my favorite New Order song, but it sounded really good, and the crowd was stoked.)

“Jimmy” (MIA said something like “ready for the ’80s” and then New Order became Bappi Lahiri. The crowd all sang “Aaja” loudly in response to MIA’s cooing “Jimmy.” Anjali marveled, “They’re singing in Hindi!”)

“10 Dollar” (This song was introduced with the Eurhythmics “Sweet Dreams” sample.  Was it the Funk Carioca version?  Can’t remember.)
“Bucky Done Gun” (People got all hyped for this one. “Portland” replaced “London” in the lyrics. MIA climbed up onto the speakers, and then from the top of the speakers stepped over to the balcony. I have never seen this in all the shows I have been to at the Roseland. She sang from the balcony for a while, before making her way back stage from the second floor.)

“Bird Flu” (For this one she dragged a TON of people from the audience to come up and dance.)

“Paper Planes” (“Get your lighters up. Get your phones up. I know you’ve got one.” Many people obliged.)

“Boyz”

intro/”Lip Gloss” (“Lipgloss” has been one of Anjali’s pop favorites recently, so we both turned to each other when the beat came on. MIA was dancing and singing, “Whatchoo know bout me, whatchoo, whatchoo know bout me.”)

“Galang”

##### Time for the encore .

“Amazon ”

“Hussel” (Afrika Boy’s rap was played over the system. He was not a part of the show, unlike over in England.)

“URAQT” (I recognized that a new funk loop was added to this song, but I couldn’t place it. Ernest Jasmin wrote that it was the theme from Sanford and Son.)

Despite what everyone else was doing throughout the show, I hardly danced at all. I barely moved at a few points, and that was it. I had really been looking forward to the show, but I was oddly detached and flat for the actual performance. In many ways I am a huge “fan” of MIA, but that doesn’t mean I am uncritical. I have seen many shows that were just people rapping to backing tracks – shows that blew me away – but MIA used the same format and didn’t elicit much of a response from me. I would go and see her again, but I wouldn’t expect to dance and jump around as much as the rest of the crowd. I think she is a really amazing artist, that has completely changed the game, but I think I wanted some live South Indian drummers on stage to take the show to the next level. Seeing MIA and Cherry prance around while Low Budget played backing tracks just wasn’t all that entertaining for me. I seemed to be in the clear minority on that one.

IK

PS I’m still waiting for an official 12″ of XR2 with the original leaked mixes, and especially Tigerstyle’s awesome refix.

Really, I was not trying to get my face smashed in by the cops.

I was scheduled to perform at the Junk to Funk Recycled Fashion Show with Anjali Saturday, November 17th, 2007. She managed to double-book herself with a Diwali party in a private community in Beaverton earlier in the night. I had to set her up at her gig, and then head to the Wonder Ballroom to set up for the Fashion Show. Anjali was going to be met on the other end of her gig by her sister, who would take her to the Wonder to play after me. I knew I wanted help setting up at the Wonder, and I was highly fortunate that I was able to secure the able services of the Nick, who was willing to spend the evening helping my ass out. Thank you, Nick. Now I love me my Desi khanna, and I was crestfallen that I had to leave Anjali at her gig without diving into the spread that was offered. Instead I drove home to get the gear for the Junk to Funk gig and pick up the Nick.

We managed to find parking a half block from the Wonder, which made me -wonder- if people weren’t already leaving the fashion show. There was quite a mob out on the sidewalk (not moving out of the way for poor fools lugging DJ equipment), and people were walking away from the venue. I have DJed at the end of enough events to know that if the focus of the event is not the DJing, there will often be very few people left when the DJ finally goes on. I was told the turnout at the event was expected to be 1000, but I didn’t have any expectation that 1000 people would still be in the venue when I went on. Nick and I made our way to the backstage, where I soon realized that because the Golden Greats were set up on stage to perform before me, there was no place for me to set up until after they cleared the stage, which meant dead air between the band and my performance: not a hopeful sign for maintaining crowd density for the start of my performance. Tito and Sachin were in the house, and they told me that the place had been packed earlier. At this point I estimated that about 200 people were left, which meant that at least 3/4 of them had already left. Fortunately I DJ enough that I had no expectations for this gig, and knowing what I know from much experience playing at the tail end of non-DJ events, I knew I would be lucky if anyone was going to stick around to dance to my set. I wasn’t very motivated or inspired, so if everyone left in droves before I hit the stage, it wasn’t going to break my heart. It might mean that I would have to work harder, since the smaller the dance floor, the more the DJ has to work to keep it.

Playing after a band is always a crap shoot as well. As a general rule, bands like to take a long time to set up, a long time to sound check, and they will usually play over their scheduled time, and force the DJ to cut their set short. They will often talk shit about the DJs, or the very concept of a DJ, from the stage. There is also the matter of them sucking ass. You never know how bad a band will be, or how good they will be – at clearing the crowd. Then there is the matter of taste. The crowd that likes the band enough to see their entire set, may be the same crowd that will hate what I am going to do as a DJ. As I said, crap shoot.

As it was, I enjoyed the Golden Greats, who I had never heard of before. They played long mostly-instrumental (give or take a vocoder) mutant funk songs, greatly enlivened by a trumpet and a saxophone. The horns gave the music a Balkan feel at points. There was also a cool optical theremin set up in a very eye-catching strobe light box. I was glad they were a party band, since sometimes I get booked to play after somber folk and what not. At least the people who stayed around would be up for a party. Even though the Golden Greats started late, they actually finished on time, well before I thought they were going to leave the stage. Surprises all around. What a gentlemanly band. Unfortunately after they finished, really loud metal music started playing over the sound system while the band cleared the stage, and the Nick helped me set up in the hole they left. The kind of metal music blaring over the speakrs is the kind used to clear a gig after the band is done. Not a good way to keep the crowd around to stay for the DJ. In fact, probably the best way to CLEAR the crowd before the DJ goes on, other than to just play extreme noise. Eventually I am set up, and after forgetting to send King Fader (working the sound board) a signal for a while, I am good to go, playing a long batucada percussion jam to start things off. Unfortunately the 100? or so people left in the room are standing around and watching me, apparently not inspired by the percussion onslaught to get down. I move into bhangra, reggaeton, MIA (she gets her own genre), filmi, more bhangra, more reggaeton, Arabic hip-hop, Balkan beats, and a final bhangra track. People dance, they hoot approvingly at points, and despite the gradual thinning of the crowd, I feel pretty good about my performance.

The event had started at 8:30pm, I went on after 11pm, and by midnight the organizer was saying she wanted to shut the event down because she was paying the staff overtime, and there weren’t that many people left. Meanwhile Anjali’s sister had been texting me from the Diwali party, saying they were running late. The party did not want to let Anjali go, and were begging her to play longer and longer, even though they knew she had another party to get to across town. When I realized that the Junk to Funk gig was being shut down, I had Nick let Anjali know to stay put, since there was no sense in her racing across town to watch me pack up our equipment, especially when she had an eager dance floor begging for more. Around 12:30am I am informed that I am playing one more track, which ends up being the awesome “Battle Boliyan” from Tru-Skool’s Raw As Folk album. About a minute from the end of the song, the security staff in front of the stage starts waving their flashlights at me. “Hey, there’s only a minute left in the track, and people are grooving to it,” I think. I try improvised sign language to let them know the track is almost over. They are still waving their flashlights emphatically. While the track is still playing, I walk around the DJ setup to the front of the stage to tell them verbally how little time is left in the track. They shout, “the cops are here, turn it down.”

I rush over to the DJ setup, shut the sound off, and yell, “the pigs are shutting us down” from the stage. As I hear the words echoing around the room I realize that while I am picturing the police hundreds of feet from me, down a flight of stairs, and out on the sidewalk, I am not wearing my glasses, and there is every possibility that there are cops -in the room with me- that I cannot see. The security tells me to turn the music down, not off, so I turn the sound up a little for the final seconds of the Tru-Skool song. I am on stage packing up my equipment when I am confronted by a very stern looking Black cop with a shaved head. I realize very quickly that he is PISSED.

Uh-oh.

I wish I could remember his exact words in the exact order he spoke them, but I will approximate as best I can. He began something like: “I don’t need some asshole calling me names. I am not an asshole, but if you want to call me names, I can make this very difficult. When I got the noise complaint my first thought was that they shouldn’t have moved next to a club, but if you want to call me names, I can shut this place down. ” I am very apologetic from the moment I realize there is a PISSED cop on stage with me,who is VERY unhappy that I used the word “pigs.” I am well-aware of the power (legal and otherwise) held by cops in this country, and I had no interest in being fucked with by someone that can pretty much do whatever they want with me, whatever the law says. (Speaking of the law, did you know that you can be held by the police for 72 hours for no reason whatsoever? Perfectly legal.) Since I had all my DJ music and equipment with me, I was very conscious of how much I wanted all of it to come home with me safely, and not spend time in an evidence locker. When I used the word “pigs,” it was without any conscious thought (duh), and I was not trying to be some super rebel, and stick if to the man, and spend the night in jail, I was just spontaneously mouthing off from the stage (which I tend to do when I am shut down). This cop was not pleased, and he was not taking “I’m sorry,” for an answer. After my initial apologies were met with a not-diminished-in-the-slightest level of anger and threats, The Nick was feeling helpful, and tried to intervene, but I held him back, and continued to be as respectful and contrite as possible to the cop, so that this situation could deescalate as quickly as possible. I have no interest in getting into it with the Portland Police. At all. Last I heard the Portland Police were third in the nation for civilian shootings per capita. They are also first in the nation to train with federal agents for paramilitary purposes. According to the Portland Tribune, the Portland Police use force every 2.2 hours. Believe you me, I was not looking to become another statistic. The cop stayed on message, which was basically: you pissed me off, I didn’t come here looking for trouble, I can make your life very difficult, and most importantly, I am still very angry. He left without any softening of his presence, despite my apologies. Serious dude. The Nick felt that from his dealings with cops, this one was actually a very reasonable police officer.

He definitely wasn’t taking any shit, I’ll tell you that.

The Nick and I packed up. King Fader recommended the use of the term “fuzz” from the stage, instead of “pigs,” and the Nick and I drove home to unwind. At this point I learn that Nick had done a perambulation of the catwalk to cheers during my set, but I was too focused on my DJing to even notice it at the time. He also managed to avail himself of much free alcohol in the green room, as a good Nick should. Anjali was originally scheduled to perform at the Diwali party until 11pm. She didn’t get home until after 2:30am. Her dancers demanded hours more from her, such was their desire to dance and never stop. We all compared notes about our evenings (while we enjoyed the catered food from the Lentil Garden that Anjali was kind enough to bring back for us from the party), and after much merriment, the Nick made his way home (I hope you made it, Nick), and a well-deserved rest was had by all.

IK

PS The moral of the story is to not use the term “pigs” when dealing with the police. Also, as a DJ in Portland, you might want to carefully consider who is within earshot if you want to play the song “Rosemary’s Swine” by local hip-hop group Sidewayz Speech.

PSS If you are unfortunate enough to have to deal with a cop who isn’t that reasonable contact Portand Copwatch.

PSSS Apparently the term “pig” in reference to a police officer goes back to at least 1811, not the 1960’s as is commonly believed.

Thank you to everyone who came down and made our Atlas 4 Year Anniversary a perfect party. Special shout-out to Jacques who flew in from Honolulu bearing some really inspirational musical gifts from around the world.  The Atlas anniversary was everything we could have hoped for and more. We were blessed that more than 400 people came out to celebrate.  People were dancing from Anjali’s first song at 9pm and there were still two rooms full of dancers after 2am. Thank you to everyone at Holocene for a great four years, and thanks for all the help in making our anniversary so smooth and successful. It was so great to see so many friends and supporters at the party.  Everyone played very inspired sets, and I even enjoyed mine quite a bit.  I am not speaking imprecisely when I say it was a perfect party.

IK

11/04/07

I saw Rakim in the flesh last night. The Rakim. On stage at the Roseland Theater. It was not something I ever thought I would get to see in this lifetime. When I saw the ad announcing the show, my first thought was, “Rakim?” my second thought, “OPENING for Ghostface Killah?” I don’t care how much you love the Wu, that is some serious disrespect. The ad said they were being backed by a live band: The Rhythm Roots Allstars. I was not familiar with them, and curious about how well the band would work backing up Rakim. I meant to get tickets the day they went on sale, but forgot to on my way to DJing a wedding in Central Oregon with Anjali, and then didn’t remember again until the day before the show. There were still tickets left the day before the show? For Rakim? Shame on you, Portland. Shame on you, and lucky for me.

Deciding when to arrive at a hip-hop show at the Roseland can be a tricky proposition, fraught with disastrous consequences. I have seen shows advertised as starting at 8pm, and if you arrive at 8:30pm you have missed a half hour of the show. I have also seen shows advertised as starting at 8pm, and by 10:30pm the first act has yet to hit the stage. There is also the issue of security lines. I have seen lines stretch down the street from the venue for two blocks. I have been in those lines for an hour.

I knew that no matter how long I might have to wait for the first artist, I wasn’t going to risk missing Rakim’s set, so I was going to get there early. As it was I didn’t make it to the show until 8:25pm. Serious security, but no wait. I arrived minutes before Brother Ali hit the stage. I have no experience with Brother Ali “the albino Muslim rapper,” and I was curious to see what he would be like. Very, very, good. He absolutely dominated the crowd from the moment his voice first boomed out, even if some people seemed surprised when an albino ran out on stage. He truly demonstrated that he has what it takes to be a real MC. He and the live band were so tight that it seemed like they were his band, stopping on a dime, or turning a corner in a perfectly-choreographed moment. I haven’t heard his recorded stuff, but what he did with the band was very impressive. He seemed to have some fans already in the audience, who responded to his Rhymesayers shout-outs, and joined him in chants of “The truth is here, the truth is here.” I imagined some confusion in the crowd whenever he said “Allah” in a song, but he didn’t give a speech about being a Muslim, or an albino, although the latter subject did come up in his rhymes. He addressed the war, the need to stop it, and the need to get the troops back home safely. The audience was very vocal in their approval of his sentiments. He finished his set with a masterful freestyle with the band backing him, and then another a cappella. So thoroughly did he control the crowd that upon his exit forty-five minutes later, the crowd chanted “Ali, Ali!” long and strong. Starchile and the Mighty Juggernaut were responsible for entertaining the crowd between performances. Juggernaut showed off his early 90’s true-school hip-hop collection, playing a few minutes of each track, and scratching, scratching, scratching over every song.

Ghostface Killah and his crew Theodore Unit came out around 9:45pm. Despite the fact that the ads suggested that Ghostface was headlining, he actually ended up supporting Rakim. I was really happy to see this. I was concerned that there wouldn’t be enough love in the house for Rakim, but his name brought the loudest cheers from the crowd all night. While I have listened to a fair amount of Ghostface and Wu-Tang Clan material, and while I have appreciated some of it (especially the Ghostface material) I am not a besotted fanatic. The crowd, however, was full of them. Very young white boys with their “W’s” in the air. Unfortunately Ghostface hardly registered as a performer, since the members of Theodore Unit were louder and more energetic than him, and they had a lot more time on the mic. It seemed like Ghostface was hardly rapping at all while his crew did all the work. Not only were there many verses that the crew rapped alone, but they also rhymed along with Ghostface on his verses as well. Shawn Wigz, the white member of Theodore Unit, was so loud and commanding that Ghostface kept switching mics with him, thinking that would make him sound louder. No such luck. Shawn was just a lot louder, with much better projection. Ghostface was definitely the weak link of the night from a performance standpoint, but he definitely had a lot of rabid fans in the house. He seemed to know he was outclassed and he kept complimenting Brother Ali, saying that he was “the future.” At one point Ghostface marveled aloud that Brother Ali “does it all by himself.” Yes he does, and far more effectively than Ghostface and his crew put together. Ghostface got a bunch of girls to come up and dance during “Ice Cream” and then had them led backstage so that he could “sign autographs” for them later. Uh-huh. Ghostface and Theodore Unit finally left the stage around 10:30pm.

Juggernaut began DJing again and a large B-boy circle formed that drew occasional massive cheers from the crowd, but I couldn’t see anything. I was pressed up close to the stage, and there was no way I was going to lose my spot for Rakim, no matter how good the B-boys were. Starchile was so impressed he left the stage to go over and watch the breaking. The balcony crowds probably got a good view.

Rakim finally went on around 11pm. He walked out onstage, dressed simply, silent, and totally in command. He had the same authority and presence as he did twenty years ago. He didn’t have to shout his songs, his perfectly measured voice drove every word home. He performed his songs respectfully, in their entirety, and not in little blips like Ghostface Killah. He left many pauses at the end of his lines for the audience to fill in the gaps. Sadly, there were a lot of people (young!) who could not help Rakim finish his classic lines. I helped out the most on “Microphone Fiend,” screaming the words a few feet from the stage. Rakim physically acted out all of his lyrics in very precise ways, miming writing in a pad, for instance, when his rhymes were talking about writing in a pad.  I noticed this technique throughout his entire set.  Very much a story-telling approach to MCing, incorporating meaningful physical gestures to the rhymes to further cement the message being conveyed into the viewer’s consciousness.  It was obviously planned-out and methodical.  The band did a really good job of performing Rakim’s songs. They were not exact replications, but really good approximations, with a nice, funky, syncopated feel. He did at least one song off “The 16th Letter,” and a lot of classics from the first two Eric B. and Rakim albums, and “Juice (Know the Ledge).” At one point he referred to his “band” where the original lyric talked about Eric B., but all references to his former DJ were not deleted, as he did say “Eric B.” in another rhyme. There were definitely some older heads in the house there to see the God, and while the younger ones were respectful, many didn’t really didn’t know the Master’s material. The band teased us with the “Follow the Leader” melody, but he never performed the song. Neither did he perform “Lyrics of Fury,” another one I would have loved to have heard. He performed the second verse of “I Know You Got Soul” twice, which I assumed was a mistake: the only hint of human imperfection. Rakim introduced one of the security crew onstage as his son. Wonder what the boy thinks of his old man, and the legions of fans he performs to every night. Rakim only performed for 45 minutes, but with a lot less filler than Ghostface Killah, who did a lot of standing around and wasting time. After Rakim exited people cheered and cheered, and stomped, and clapped, and screamed, and chanted “Rakim” over and over and over, but he never came back out. (A few fools chanted “Ghostface” instead.) The lights went up and people realized that was it. I could’ve done with a longer show, but I have no regrets. I would see him again in a flash. He says he has a new album coming out. Nothing has grabbed me the way his stuff with Eric B. did, but I am still curious to see what he will come with in 2007.

Now if I can ever get a chance to see Paris live, my hip-hop dreams will have all been fulfilled.

IK

There are a million things to do in Portland on Halloween weekend, so I want to thank everyone who chose to come out to Bollywood Horror V. I am well aware of all the house parties going on, all the other club nights, and the massive rave-style events, so I am very grateful that so many people choose to come dance at our Halloween party every year. Thank you to all of those who dressed up, including the “Dick In a Box” guys, Inspector Gadget, and “Elliott Riding On a Bicycle with ET in Front of the Moon” (the clear winner of the costume contest). I held off on posting this entry for awhile because I had a lot of points I wanted to make, including generalizations about the difference between Desi and gora taste in South Asian dance music, the love affair Panjabis have with Jazzy B, and the indifference and confusion demonstrated by everyone else, the lackluster crowd response to “Heyy Babyy” (Bollywood Horror in effect) and “Main Hoon Don” no matter how many requests are made for them, etc. The important thing is thanking everyone who came down and made the party so great. Thanks. Start planning your costume for Bollywood Horror VI.
IK

After more than ten years of Basement Bhangra, founder and resident DJ Rekha has finally put out a CD compilation. Unlike a lot of Desi DJs who put out illegal bootleg remix CDs, Rekha has waited to do it official-style. A fully-licensed, fully-legal domestic Bhangra compilation, with several exclusives that I have really enjoyed hearing in her sets over the last year. 99% of what passes for a Bhangra compilation in the States these days is usually not even Bhangra, (more like lame-ass German-produced wannabe “Indian” bilge water electronica) or if it is, it is hopelessly tame, lame, outdated and underwhelming. If you want to hear some real Bhangra (along with some Desi beats) without having to order a pile of CDs from outside the country with the weak-ass American dollar, this is the album you want to pick up. Be forewarned that this is not an unmixed compilation, and some of the songs are cut short and end abruptly.

Rekha is the reason that Bhangra exists in the American mainstream cultural awareness to any extent. No one else in America has been doing more to showcase the cultural power, relevance and vitality of Bhangra on the national scene. Here is to another ten years.

IK

I like to claim that I don’t own a TV, but truth be told, there has been one unplugged on top of our dryer in the laundry room for the last year or so. A friend of ours left town in a hurry and told us to take whatever we wanted from what she had left at her apartment. Despite the fact that I don’t like watching videos or DVDs, and prefer to limit my movie viewing to the big screen experience, it still seemed like picking up the TV was a good idea in case we ever wanted to watch something at home. That has never happened, and it has sat on the dryer ever since. So if I have any exposure to TV at all, it comes only through youtube. (Full disclosure: I have rented both Dave Chappelle and Ali G DVDs and watched them on my computer.)

I have a friend who watches SNL every week. I gave it up for dead after Eddie Murphy left, and my few viewings since then have convinced me I did the right thing. (Except for the Public Enemy appearance in September of 1991 with the awesome “Gay Beer” ad.) Now this regular SNL watcher friend of mine also “hates music.” He spurns all those who base their identity and social circles around subjective musical preferences, especially when they often can’t play music or read music – or do anything other than listen to – what they claim is so important to them. So when he told me how impressed he was by the emotional content of a recent Kanye West freestyle on SNL, I had to look it up on youtube. I didn’t find the performance as arresting as he did, but perhaps that was because I was forewarned about the freestlye, and Kanye’s fuck-ups during said freestyle. From the televised evidence, I can only conclude that he is not a good freestyler ar all. (I have since foound much better freestyles by Kanye online, and I have to conclude that he was not performing up to par that night.)

At at the end of his performance something really did catch my attention: in the final moment, Kanye’s DJ A-Trak scratched in Milk Dee from Audio Two intoning “I don’t care.” This, my dear friends, is fucking genius. For those who don’t know, Audio Two had a monster hip-hop hit in 1987 with the song “Top Billin.” This song is referenced constantly in hip-hop, most recently, and importantly to this discussion, by 50 Cent on his current hit song “I Get Money.” In fact, the chorus of 50’s song consists of a sample of Milk Dee’s voice from “Top Billin” repeating “I Get Money.” Now I had debated about weighing in on the Kanye/50 Cent competition for highest album sales during their first sales weeks, but never bothered to write anything. I actually bought both their albums during their first sales week, simply because I knew that both CDs were going to have songs on them I would need for mainstream gigs over the coming years. Truth be told, despite supporting both artists, I was rooting for Kanye. I was monumentally underwhelmed by both albums, and haven’t bothered to go back to either of them since an initial listen. But after hearing A-Trak scratch in that brief phrase, “I don’t care.” I knew I had to write. Now, I don’t know if scratching that lyric in was Kanye or A-Trak’s idea, but whoever’s it was, is a frickin’ genius. While cars are pumping 50 Cent’s song all over America with Milk Dee’s voice declaring “I get money” over and over, Kanye responds, on live national television, with Milk Dee’s own words: “I don’t care.” Brilliant.

If only it were true. Kanye has been very upfront in interviews about how much he wants that 50 Cent money, but probably not quite as much as he wants Michael Jackson levels of worldwide fame and adoration. Watching the Kanye “Throw Some D’s” remix video, I note his praising of Alicia Keys. Oh boy. Is this going to play into his rivalry with 50 Cent as well? 50 Cent made a very public play for Alicia around the time of his initial surge to stardom. It failed. Will Kanye do any better, and add another ego blow to 50 Cent to the pile?  Time will tell.

IK

I’m thrilled that my friend Alissa who is producing a documentary in Angola has been kind enough to be shopping for CDs for me while she is there. I’ve really been thrilled by some of the Angolan stuff I have heard lately, and so of course I want to get my hands on all of the good shit that I can. I may be a broke-ass DJ stuck in Portland, but I am at least fortunate enough to have friends willing to shop for me while they travel. Thank you!

PS She also sent me the preceding cool photo with the following description “DJs in cacuaco.”

PSS Please note, Vinyl Fetishists, that while Black (vinyl) is beautiful (as Mark Robinson would say), international DJs use CDs, because CDs are what international music is available on. (And tapes too, just not vinyl.)

10/14/07 (Revisited multiple times and finally posted 10/27/07)

Thank you to everyone who came out to see Maga Bo at our Atlas party last night. We are really lucky to have hundreds of people come out to our night with our four-year anniversary just around the corner next month. One of the few concrete goals I’ve had in the last few years is to celebrate the fourth anniversary of Atlas, and the fifth anniversary of Andaz this November. Who knows what happens after that? I have been very ambivalent about my DJing lately. While I was playing at the Goodfoot recently I actually thought the words “I hate this,” as I was looking to pick out my next track. “I hate this,” while I was on stage (actually on the dance floor, since that is where DJs set up at the Goodfoot). “I hate this.”

As an adult, I have pursued very few long-term goals. In the Spring of 2000 I started getting really serious about DJing, and told myself I wanted to be an internationally-touring DJ. That was seven and a half years ago. At this point I have only played Canada and the USA, but have made it to Eugene, Bend, Seattle, San Francisco, LA, and New York. It doesn’t feel like a lot in seven and a half years. What does seem significant, is being a part of Andaz and Atlas, two entirely unique and long-running fixtures on the Portland, Oregon club scene. There was nothing like these parties when we started, and aside from irregularly-scheduled gigs here and there, there still isn’t. There have been attempts to throw other global-themed club nights in Portland, by other DJs, and other clubs, but nothing has stuck the way Andaz and Atlas have, and I’m proud of that. I’m just not always so proud about my DJing.

I have very mixed feelings about my performance last night. It was typical of many of my gigs for a long while now, where I feel a lot of pressure to put on an amazing performance, but can’t motivate to prepare in the weeks before the gig, other than to spend some time listening to music. Until the last minute, I can’t really focus on any sort of intense preparation. Then at the last minute I feel like I am surrounded by hundreds of amazing pieces of music, that would add immeasurably to my performance, if I could somehow magically absorb them all in the few hours until I am supposed to be on stage. I feel this way before so many gigs.

I was not looking forward to this performance. I was not looking forward to going on before Maga Bo. Part of me wanted to change the schedule, and open the night, so I could play to no people, and feel no pressure. However, I open at Atlas all the time, and I realize that occasionally I do need to actually play during prime time, I just don’t always know how well that is going to work out.

Lately I have thought a lot about the tension in my DJ performances between what I want to do while I’m on stage, and what the crowd (or various factions in the crowd) might want me to be doing. I feel like I am torn in many directions, and what I end up playing is an often surprising (and sometimes scary) response to the different directions in which I am torn. It usually doesn’t please anyone, sometimes not even myself.

Because we have been having so many guests at Atlas lately I have been less concerned with pleasing the crowd, and more concerned with reflecting my current musical interests and obsessions, figuring that if people don’t like it, they are not going to leave, because they won’t want to miss the headliner. I feel like I overestimated this desire in portions of the crowd at the last Atlas. Which makes me feel really guilty, because the goal is to spotlight the guest DJ at Atlas, not clear the club before they go on. Following is my best recollection as to what I played on October 13th before Maga Bo took the stage:

Zion “Veo”

Randy “Soy una Gargola”
Alex y Fido “Me Quiere Besar”

Daddy Yankee “Impacto (Remix)”

LDA “Ooh Aah”

Akala “Bullshit”

DAM “Mali Huriye”

Bhool Bhulaiyaa title song
“Jimmy Jimmy Jimmy Aaja” from Disco Dancer
MIA “Jimmy”

PJD “Boliyan” sung by Lehmber Hussainpuri
Sunil Kalyan “Dil Kich Ke Lagayee” sung by Lehmber Hussainpuri
Preet Brar “Boliyan”

Nelson de la Olla

Garifuna Legacy “Manos Arriba” or “Aunli Turi”

Anjali had been playing a super uptempo Panjabi D’n’B and garage style set before me, and the crowd was lapping it up, but I had no interest in matching her style or pace, no matter how unhappy the dance floor might be at the white guy going on and killing the vibe. So no matter how little it fit, I played a bunch of reggaeton, because that was what I wanted to do. Since there were two dance floors going on, in both the front and back rooms, I have no idea how anything went over for everyone, since I only had one room to judge by. I’ve seen guest DJs at Atlas go on in the back room, and I feel bad when the most raging dance floor is in the front room, because the guest DJ has no idea how well their set is being received. I’ve seen the back dance floor thin and losing steam while the front room is raging to a guest’s set. The guest DJ might think their music is not working, and that they need to start doing something different, when the front room’s stage is full of dancers and people are going buck wild. So having said that, I am aware of the quantum possibility that the front room was responding better to my set than the back room, but I am by no means asserting that. I am trying to be somewhat charitable to myself since I left the stage after my set so convulsed with shock and horror at what I had done, and such were my feelings of self-loathing, that I wrecked my immune system to the point where I called out of an entire week of work sick with the flu.

Because I am often so uncomfortable and self-conscious on stage, I look to Anjali for inspiration. She will play whatever she wants, regardless of what she thinks (or knows) the crowd wants. She can have a crowd calling out for bhangra and Bollywood, and she will play nothing but Asian D’n’B or breaks. (And if you are someone who thinks all Indian music is the same, I can assure you that nothing could be further from the truth to its listeners, many of whom don’t see Indian electronica as being “Indian” in the slightest.) Since I can feel so much pressure to give the crowd what I think it wants, I try to balance that inclination with the thought that I need to be open to a higher artistic purpose than simply getting people off on the dance floor. That may be blasphemous to those who view the ecstasy of the dance as paramount to the DJ’s purpose, but I have seen so many crowds getting down to the most predictable and boring shit for so many years, that I think there is far more that a conscious DJ can strive for beyond just giving people what they want. When I first started DJing house parties it was the coolest thing to be able to play anything that people would dance to: just the act of being able to put a needle to vinyl and watching people dancing in response. From the very beginning of my life as a dance party DJ, I wanted to stick in all sorts of cool stuff that I liked, and not play a lot of mainstream crap I didn’t like, but I became very focused on playing new and different things the more I realized how vociferous and monomaniacal many dancers are about wanting to hear the same shit over and over and over, whether that is Michael Jackson, Madonna, and Prince, or 50 Cent, Kanye West, “Baby Got Back,” “My Humps, ” etc. Sometimes this desire to play new and different things can push a dance floor to the breaking point, and I feel like that is what happened during my set at the last Atlas.

I didn’t feel like anyone was particulary appreciating the reggaeton, but I stuck with it for a while. Moved on to political UK hip-hop, Palestinian hip-hop, and then on to some Bollywood. The filmi was certainly appreciated by some of the Desis in attendance, but how much beyond that? I then went into a bhangra set. No idea if anyone cared for that. Especially the Preet Brar “Boliyan” which goes on forever, has many long a cappella passages, and shifts from very slow, to incredibly fast, over and over. A rollercoaster of a song, that I don’t know if anyone wanted to keep up with. Feeling like I had pushed the crowd’s (what little was left) patience and tolerance to the limit, I then pushed harder with light-speed merengue. Yeaaaah. The gringos always love that. Now from my perspective in the back room, I feel like I had cleared everyone except for a few diehards who were somehow hanging with me in my fit of perversity. Maga Bo came to the stage at this point, but I was lining up another song, so he went back to the green room to wait for his set. What was the Kid going to do next? Win the crowd back?

Yeah, right. I wanted to take it as extreme as I could, which is the frantic polyrhythms of Garifuna Punta Rock. In my experience, Punta Rock has to be the most challenging-sounding rhythm any gringo could attempt to dance to. I was not going easy on people. It was more about what I wanted to represent, and present, dance floor be damned. Now as I mentioned, there were a few diehards left in a room that had been full. They were sticking with me through the last blasts of Nelson de la Olla. But as that song ended in its final bursts, my attempt to transition on a dime between the hyperspeed merengue, and the polyrhythmic frenzy of Garifuna Legacy (good luck attempting a blend) left a crucial millisecond of silence. A pause between onslaughts. In that crucial pause, I lost the faith of those few still remaining on the dance floor. I felt a deflation, a shrug, an abandonment, overtake the few dancers left, who then began filing out of the room. Dead air. A millisecond of dead air.  It is often claimed that for a DJ, nothing is worse than dead air, and from my experience on that evening, I would have to concur, no matter how fleeting a moment of silence there was. That moment of silence was a station, where the few people left on the train decided to get off.

I was horror-stricken. “Oh no, what have I done?” Here I was, entrusted to warm up the crowd before our guest DJ, and in a pique of self-absorption, I clear the floor before he has a chance to go on. Watching the backs of the people filing out of the back dance room I realized I had to act fast. I raced offstage and into the green room, trying to rush Maga Bo on stage, before the last of the audience had left. He was backstage with Anjali and E3, who didn’t know what to make of my panicked rush into the room. I told Bo I got a little perverse, but that I thought that he could win them back. They all didn’t know what I was talking about, since they had been discussing my set from backstage, and thought that it had sounded great.

Now I have been backstage at enough shows to know that no matter how little anyone can hear, or no matter how little anyone bothers to pay attention to, a performer’s set, everyone says how great the performance was once the performer makes their way backstage, so I didn’t give a lot of credence to the claims that my set sounded great. Despite my reverence for Garifuna Legacy, and my insistence that I play them, when I saw what a floor-clearing effect they were having, I couldn’t justify playing the nearly ten minute track all the way out. Maga Bo made his way to the stage, and I brought the volume down on my track, mere minutes after it had started.

Anjali got on the mic to announce Maga Bo. First she wanted to shout me out, but so horrified was I by my performance, and its aftermath, that when she attempted to say my name I shouted over her, and yelled instead that everyone should give it up for Maga Bo. I couldn’t stand to have any ill-deserved attention directed my way, since the few people left in the club had already been through enough, having to suffer through my set, in order to finally be able to see Maga Bo. Anjali was not pleased at my cutting her off, and I apologize here for the rudeness. Such was my self-loathing that I couldn’t bear to hear some forced applause at the sound of my name. This self-loathing was such a powerful force that it decimated my immune system in its wake, and forced me to lie in bed sick for a week.

What is a DJ to do? If I play songs just because I know people will get off, then I am really alienated and depressed, all too aware of the familiar-schlock-uber-alles attitude of most dance floors. If I try to play just what gets me off, in some attempt to make some personal artistic statement, then I am made aware of just how easily I can clear the dance floor and lose the favor of an entire club. “Balance, balance, balance,” the Greeks would tell me. “Stick to the middle, avoid either extreme.” I certainly didn’t do that at the last Atlas night.

Maga Bo did, fortunately, entice those remaining in the club back to the dance floor. I have no idea how many people were left at the club after I got off stage, since I went straight back to the green room, where I stayed for the first few songs of Maga Bo’s set. By the time I made a trip around the club, it was almost entirely empty, except for the people dancing to Maga Bo. Since both rooms of the club were full when I went on, I can only conclude that I managed to clear the majority of the club during my set. If I was playing until 2:30am or so, then maybe that would be acceptable, but seeing as how I finished up around 12:40pm, then I would say, “Houston, we have a problem.” True, we do have a crowd that often arrives early, and leaves early, but if I am clearing them even before the guest headliner goes on, then that is not acceptable. I feel awful about clearing people due to my own selfishness, perversity, and inability to interact musically with the crowd in a meaningful way. Uggh.  Its been so difficult for me to revisit this night in writing, that it has taken me two weeks to write this much.
IK