BEATROUTE MAGAZINE AB EDITION JANUARY 2019

ules became more codified. Specific dances were developed that
needed a pumpin’ 4/4 beat. Dancers soon identified with certain
harmonic and melodic signifiers and production conventions that
let them know this was their music. That’s how subcultural music
works. And this is not an insult. In a world gone incoherent, I admire
subcultures for bringing structure and meaning to music. Also, there
are a lot of big Northern Soul songs that will surprise you. Despite
an occasional bullying from Northern Soul DJs, I’m a fan of some
of the tracks they spin. But as someone who developed my sound
individually and not as a part of a group, and also had artistic aspirations
beyond belonging to a tradition, I wanted to develop my own
rules through trial and error. In my own vacuum – for myself and
my dancers and for the here and now. And since I’ve had the luxury
of groping around in the darkness for over 2500 nights, I’ve naturally
gravitated towards the sounds and beats that work for me and the
floor. Purists, whether they be from Northern Soul or R&B or funk,
can be upset that I play some of their music but also include a lot of
sounds they consider unacceptable, tasteless, or even sacrilegious.
Some can’t accept that my idea of soul music is not the same as
theirs. But as a rugged individualist from Texas punk, the only thing
that brings me more joy than pissing off the orthodoxy coming up
with my own thing.
What are some of the artists from that time period that are
largely if not entirely unknown that really shine through?
Oh man! There’s a whole universe! Soul has so many amazing artists
with only a record or two and almost all of the artists – even the
bigger ones are largely forgotten in the general music landscape.
I’m interested in these singers who went from small label to small
label to big label back to small label in an era where not a lot of LPs
were made so are thus mostly remembered by 45 people. Someone
like Ted Taylor, with his earth-shattering falsetto, had only one LP
but must’ve been on dozens of records on so many labels and so
many of them supreme. You may recognize his “Rambling Rose” as
MC5 took theirs from his version. Also, a number of amazing soul
stars that are still working today will blow you away — Sugarpie De
Santo, Young Jessie, Ronaldo Domino, Willie West, Ural Thomas,
and on and on and on.
We know Motown had created its own magical soundscape at
Hitsville USA. What other labels had great, engaging production
values?
That’s a rough one. There are so many hundreds of killer unsung
labels. Off the top of my head a few of the most consistent for me
are the dirty Detroit sounds of Fortune and Lu Pine. You can always
tell a Fortune Record the second you hear it. I keep finding new
killers I never knew about from Atlanta’s Shur-Fine. The East LA
Chicano rock ’n’ soul sound heard on Faro, Rampart, and Whittier.
And pretty much everything from New Orleans. Allen Toussaint’s
amazing labels Sansu, Tou-Sea, Deesu, and even the early ones he
produced like Minit and Instant, Eddie Bo’s lables like Seven B, Blue
Jay, Cinderella, etc, Texas labels like Huey Meaux’s Tribe and Teardrop,
Don Robey’s Duke/Peacock/Back Beat/Shure Shot empire.
The pacific Northwest’s Etiquette with all of the amazing Kearney
Barton-engineered Sonics, Wailers, etc. records. I could go on and on
but I’m sure this is boring to most people….
And what is it about the 45 itself that has that “punch in the
face” quality, which I might add is really true of your live show.
A very buoyant, sweet suspended smack on the kisser over and
over!
A lot of 45s were mastered for jukeboxes and transistor radios so the
beat and the vocals are really pronounced and loud. There’s a whole
lotta high and low poking out. Sometimes LPs of the time are more
28 | JANUARY 2019 • BEATROUTE
nuanced and have a lot more clarity and tonal subtlety. But the 45 is
big and brash and ideal for a wild dance party….
Im curious, do rust belt record stores, still have an abundance of
obscurities? How often do you travel there on collecting sprees?
The rust belt, like anywhere, has mostly popular music but certain
markets are best for certain records. For example, Detroit had so
many little labels aspiring to be the next Motown, and so much rock
’n’ roll as well, and such a wealth of local talent, and a huge working-class
consumer market, that there’s so many amazing unique
artifacts floating around. And Pittsburgh produced some cool stuff
but overall had really unique taste. So many songs everybody loves
today, like The Sonics “Psycho” or Tommy James “My Baby Does
The Hanky Panky” were Pittsburgh hits before they were known
elsewhere. Pittsburgh has miles and miles of unique songs that are
only known in Pittsburgh. Plus there are a lot of more obscure tracks
played by Mad Mike, Porky Chedwick, and other groundbreaking
local DJs that can be found – killer stuff from as far away as Los Angeles
and New Orleans that are still the “Pittsburgh sound.” If your
lucky you don’t have to look too hard to find a record from Mad
Mike’s own collection!
The dialogue, the conversation between DJ and dance floor.
How do you know where to go in a new room and where to take
an audience that doesn’t have that much or any real background
with vintage soul and R&B? Obviously there’s a genuine,
inherent feelgood factor in the music, but your parties aren’t a
40 minute set, they’re three hours of lapping it up. What do you
think is the secret weapon you’re exposing the dance floor to
and why they readily engage?
I play five and half hours every Saturday and the Soul Claps in NYC
are often four or five hours. My job isn’t to justify peoples’ music
knowledge. A DJ’s job isn’t to give anyone what they want but rather
what they need. I think people are open to being taken somewhere
as long as they feel the energy and can lock into the beat. I like to
play to people who want to go to unfamiliar territory and don’t
have a lot of respect for people who want more of the same. While
I have some signature songs and go-to’s, I also play stuff I didn’t even
know a few months or weeks or days before. So often nobody in
the room knows the song, not even me. My definition DJ’s of DJ
is a mediator between people and music. So the communication
is all there is. I poke around for 30 minutes or so and try to keep a
fairly steady beat while I try to get an idea of who I’m dealing with
and what my parameters are. Once I’m there I try to see how far
we can go together. If something isn’t working I can change it. If
something works I can prolong it. A DJ should ideally create tension
and release and try to achieve higher and higher peaks throughout
the night. The dancefloor is a collection of different people and
your job is to figure out who they are individually and as a group
and how to use what’s in your box to unite them and how to play
off of all of them. As you said, it’s a conversation. Also, I like to see
them as my band and I’m communicating with them via music. The
DJ and the dancers are improvising and both play off each other all
night – reacting to the musical events, anticipating the next move,
and locking in together. Familiarity can make this relationship more
difficult because if people already know a song they already decide
whether or not they want to dance to it. Plus songs are loaded with
specific associations. Unfamiliar music means a blank canvas with
less distraction where the sound and the feeling and the beat is all
there is. I sometimes throw in a hit or a cover to communicate, but
you can’t do it too often or it’s a dead-end. Ideally you want your
dancers to get the point of the night where they trust you, accept
where you’re taking them, and you continue to deliver the goods all
night long.
Soul Clap is happening Feb. 9 @ The Palomino.
PHOTO: ALEXANDER THOMPSON
JUCY