Archive of posts tagged with "cambridge"

September 26th, 2011

Brinksmanship

2nite at Beat Research!

Somerville DJ Brinkley Sound makes his club debut after a long tenure spinning both punk and disco shows on left of the dial radio station WHRB, and making noise with local bands including The Sinister Turns and Hedge Fund.

In homage to his namesake, John R. Brinkley, founder of the nation’s most audaciously powerful “border blaster” radio stations, Brinkley Sound will bring a mixed and re-mixed bag of pan-American party-starting beats, with a nod to the sample-heavy sounds of New Jersey club music. Somewhere between hardcore punk and ‘ardkore rave, this is music for all-night dancing and all-night whosampled.com checking alike.


For a taste of the sui generis sound DJ Brinkley Sound has been developing, check his soundcloud for tracks that draw on juke, dancehall, clubb music, punk, and other forms of #blackswag, e.g. —

Rise Above (WBPLZ #blackswag rmx) by Brinkley Sound

Overboard Riddim (props to Messr. Crâne) by Brinkley Sound

Ooh Baby by Brinkley Sound

As it happens, Mr. Brinkley (aka Dan Thorn) took a class with me last spring and wrote a really great paper on the “Aural History of Jersey Club Music,” including trenchant observations on SoundCloud ecologies and the remarkable social life of the “bedspring” sample (which you might hear turn up in a track or two of his own). I’ve been pushing Dan to make a mini-mega-mix of the bedspring thing, but in the meantime, I’ll leave you with a brief bit from his term paper, which I’ve been encouraging him to publish somewhere officialish (editors, holler):

From Atlanta to Baltimore to Newark (with detours into the Caribbean), the “Some Cut” sample is a prime example of Jersey club’s status as a unique subcultural genre that nonetheless transcends regional sonic signifiers. While the sample itself is heard as a unique feature of Jersey club, it also points to the music’s place in musical dialogue with many other localized dance music genres. By reusing “Some Cut” in novel ways, as a rhythmic element or as a subtle thematic comment, Jersey club producers have localized the song to a new context of use while adding value for future producers (who can now use the sample in the same or different ways), fulfilling Henry Jenkins’ requirements for “spreadable” media. Like Jenkins argues about this type of participatory media, Jersey club’s use of sampling emphasizes the agency of actors typically recognized as simply ‘consumers’ of music (in this case, high school students releasing music noncommercially) to change the meaning of media without overruling its previous definitions.

Despite the relatively linear timeline behind “Some Cut”’s deployment as a staple of Jersey club remixes, the genre as a whole can be only poorly understood by such a genealogical model, which requires distinction to be made between singular, original “texts” and subsequent adaptations. Rather, Jersey club remixes are what Jonathan Gray has called “paratexts”—materials that exist “outside of, alongside, and intrinsically part of the text.” Jersey club DJs rarely if ever remix existing club tracks; rather, they go back to the source material and create their own iteration, often within the same time frame as the first remix. It is therefore impossible to authoritatively say that any one Jersey remix of, say, Lloyd’s “Lay Down” is the exemplary text against which all others are adulterated versions—a fact that club blogs have admitted when simultaneously posting several remixes of the same source material by different DJs. If, as Devereaux has argued, Baltimore club music is an expression of an inclusive urban identity, Jersey club might be understood as an expression of an inclusive digital identity, an example of music as social life where the online production, reception and discussion of club tracks is inseparable from their production and reception in New Jersey and elsewhere. The social aspect of Jersey club must be understood as thoroughly as its musical features, in what Georgina Born has theorized as a “constellation of mediations—sonic, but also social, material and technological, discursive, corporeal and temporal—that together constitute what ‘music’ and musical experience are held to be.”

Jersey club producers turn the most ubiquitous of the pop songs forced upon listeners worldwide into raw material for remixes that present those songs for what they ultimately are—bursts of possibly interesting sounds competing for one’s attention among a multitude of others. Their remixing practice can therefore be understood as a decommodification of music acting alongside and against music’s commodification in the form of CDs, MP3s and other formats. The music increasingly takes the form of noncommercial, Creative Commons-licensed tracks for free download on SoundCloud, which demonstrate not only their young producers’ skill with media production technology (one form of ‘media literacy’) but also their canny ability to approach pop music as a means for acts of individual creativity, without being intimidated by the professional aura that rearguard critics like Andrew Keen mistake for a sign of a work’s quality.

Yeah, kid got an A.

Also, he had this to say about Dubbel Dutch’s great Screw Jersey mix from a little while back —

Screwing (Jersey) club is a pretty clever idea, since many club tracks sample vocals from slower pop/hip-hop songs without changing the pitch – the end result is music at close to the same tempo as a fair amount of the sample material, but this time with all the vox in that distinctive screw range. It’s an interesting way to hear the songs again (I especially liked hearing “Obsessed” after this process) and I guess it couldn’t have worked so well if club music pitched its vocal samples to match the tempo.

Expect to hear all of this and more tonight at Enormous Room as Dan takes us to the Brink.

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September 9th, 2011

Upradical Research

So, suffice to say that we’re absolutely Cavendish about our guest for this Monday’s Beat Research

If you haven’t been getting down to the mixes and remixes of Uproot Andy over the last few years, we’re not sure what sort of dank hole you’re living in. From his perch in multiculti Brooklyn, Andy has been cooking up his own distinctive, irresistible takes on cumbia, dancehall, dubstep, afropop, you name it.

His savvy, crunchy touch has made him a defining presence on the “tropical bass” scene (or wot-ever we call it). Currently at work on his debut album, we’re thrilled to hear the latest stews he’s been brewing, and we’re psyched to finally get him to the Enormous Room to throw down with us.

Just in case you need a primer, here are a few faves, from badass bachatón to certifiably classic remixes of Los Rakas and Amadou & Mariam —

Vete (Uproot Andy rmx) – Antony Santos by Uproot Andy

Abrazame (uproot andy mix) by Uproot Andy

Sabali (Uproot Andy RMX) by Uproot Andy

Do help us give the man a proper reception on Monday night. As usual, we’ll be rocking the room from 9-1, and it’s FREE.

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August 30th, 2011

Incoming / Outgoing

Despite my relative silence here this summer — about which, more soon — big tings a gwaan, especially as the fall semester rolls around.

First up, I’m thrilled to report that I leave today for Rotterdam, my first visit to Holland / the Netherlands! I’m fortunate to have been invited to participate in a conference gathered around an exhibition on Bengali film at De Nieuwe Oogst

You might be wondering what I have to say about Bengali film, but you’ll have to ask me after the weekend is over for that. Happily, the conference organizers are using the event to stage some broader conversations about media and popular culture, and I’ve decided to take the opportunity to organize my thoughts around a topic that’s been bubbling up on my blog from time to time: Dutch club music — or more specifically, the contrasting media ecologies and aesthetic affinities between 90s bubbling and 00s dirty house / moombahton. In other words, Dutch club music from Moortje to Munchi, with a lil Afrojack along the way. Or in other words:

Look at Me Now: Dutch Club Music from Invisible Local Marginality to Invisible Global Ubiquity

Holland’s bubbling scene of the 1990s was so unremittingly anchored in local sites of realtime production and material circulation that in two decades, with few exceptions, the genre has hardly migrated beyond Rotterdam and the Hague. In marked contrast, contemporary Dutch house producer Afrojack, whose style audibly emerges from a national club music inspired by bubbling’s distinctive take on foreign but familiar forms, could credibly be counted among today’s top-tier producers of global dance-pop (if often overshadowed by US-based partners such as Diplo and Pitbull). Moreover, Afrojack’s remix of “Moombah,” slowed down several clicks by a Washington DC-based DJ named Dave Nada, has served as the basis for an emergent genre, moombahton, that enjoys a similar breadth of engagement and international circulation, but with relatively little attention to questions of Dutch origins — again, offering a striking departure from bubbling’s insistent locality and marginality. Although at a glance, then, the formal aesthetic qualities of mid-90s bubbling and today’s moombahton might have a lot in common — highly referential and resonant drum loops, Afro-diasporic signposts, a strong embrace of denatured synths and samples — a closer attention to their particular contexts and technologies of production and circulation can reveal striking shifts in the cultural politics of urban Holland, and the wider wired world, in an age of digital and so-called “social” media. Tracing the shapes and forms of Holland’s club music from bubbling’s Antillean counterpublics to the multicultural mix of participants addressed by Dutch “dirty” house and moombahton, this paper examines the distinct media ecologies that fostered the rise of such styles while considering the implications for understanding how musical media can facilitate forms of social collectivity and interaction, mobilization and disarticulation, audibility and illegibility.

See here for the full program. I’ll be giving my talk on Friday, Sept 1 at 11:45am as part of a panel addressing questions of “Urban Form.” Even more exciting (for me anyway), I’ll be DJing an afterparty on Friday night alongside Munchi himself! (not to mention State of Bengal and Nafer Loves You) It’s gonna be fun connecting all these dots! Sentello velocity indeed…

The second upcoming event I want to mention here is another DJ gig of sorts. On the evening of September 7, I’ll be performing at openLAB_03, a gathering at Harvard’s cool new experimental research unit, metaLAB, happening in conjunction with the Berkman Center’s iLaw conference.

The directors have been using the openLAB event series to present projects from Boston-area artists and share ongoing metaLAB experiments with the public. The theme of openLAB_03 is remix/curation of media archives (“broadly interpreted,” I’m told). Along these lines, they’ve asked me to reignite the Boston Mashacre/Smashacre stuff I worked up a few years ago, and I’ve decided that the next chapter in this series of sonic explorations of Boston’s sound(scape) will focus on radio transmissions.

Although I haven’t had a chance to write about the subject here yet, I’m deeply interested in how Boston’s radio landscape offers a uniquely audible picture of the city and the people who live here. The vivid, if often muted, presence of low-power and “pirate” radio stations — especially emanating from Caribbean communities — is something I’d like to explore, and accentuate, especially alongside the crushing amount of hi-fi, ClearChannel, middle-of-the-roaditude that saturates the airwaves here. In terms of aesthetic procedures, I plan on toying with degrees of distance and difference, signal and noise. To that end, I’ve been making my own “personal” (and/or public) archive of Boston radio scans, which I plan to cut up and loop and reassemble in the spirit of, e.g., my 2003 Jamaican radio edit.

Not sure yet about the title — think I’ve exhausted the (s)mashacre schtick, so maybe something like “Towers of Power” — but, at any rate, I hope something suggesting these power relations emerges in the performance. Will share in audio form here once I get a chance to bounce it all down, but please do come to openLAB_03 for the live mix if you’re in the area.

Association with the Berkman Center is always a felicitous thing, IMO, and I’m happy to report that, in addition to this latest bit of convergence, I’ve been selected to serve as one of the Berkman Center’s Faculty Associates for the 2011-2012 academic year (alongside a humbling list of luminaries).

Speaking of the academic year, the fall semester is soon to commence, and although I don’t have time (right now) to go into the long story of my academic employment situation, I’m excited to report that although my fellowship at MIT ended this spring, I’ll be continuing to teach here in the Boston area. I’m offering two courses this fall, one at Brandeis and another at UMass-Boston. I’m delighted to be teaching at both institutions, and very much looking forward to meeting the students. If you happen to know anyone at either place, please help spread the word. In brief the deets are:

1) On Monday evenings from 5:30-8:00 at UMass-Boston, I’ll be attempting to fill the very large shoes of Reebee Garofalo, who is retiring, teaching his perennial and popular course on the “Social History of Popular Music.” This is a great opportunity to dig into the question of the “popular” and how it opens into, emerges from, and informs social history. I’ll share the syllabus here as soon as I’ve got it into good enough shape. It’s being offered through the American Studies department (AMST 235).

2) On Tuesday nights from 6:30-9:20 at Brandeis I’ll be returning to the topic of “Reggae, Race, and Nation” for the department of African and African American Studies (AAAS 171a). The syllabus will not look too unlike my Global Reggae course for MIT (now on OpenCourseWare!), though I will be tweaking it a little, of course.

These topics are near and dear to my heart & work, and I feel fortunate (if a little undercompensated — twice the teaching for 20% the pay!) to be able to continue thinking and talking about music, popular culture, and social history & theory for a “living.” Nice work if you can get it. Do help me out by directing good students my way!

Hope to see some of y’all at some of these things. And I promise to fill you in on my Summer of Relative Silence very soon. Also, I’ve got some pieces of writing to share. Soon come, patient readers, soon come.

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August 5th, 2011

Nothin Sounds Quite Like 8/08

beat research is excited to present —

RIZZLA & BLK.ADONIS

to whet —

ADONIS-DNA ( Blk.Adonis & Leliera ) by blk.adonis

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July 8th, 2011

El Freaky Research

This Monday at Beat Research we’ve got a midsummernight’s dream of a bill —

BEAT RESEARCH, JULY 11: EL FREAKY & MC ZULU
and how’s that for a flyer! (thx, fatsuggardaddy)

El Freaky is a renowned DJ/VJ collective hailing from Bogotá. They’re up in these parts on part of a tour which brought them to NYC this past week for the LAMC, where, based on my Twitter feed, it sounds like they tore things up at Que Bajo ?! last night. We’re humbly thrilled, as usual, to be in such striking distance from the Big Apple that we can get a crew like this up to Boston for a night. It’s bound to be a legendary session; do please sweat it out with us if you’re around & down.

To top things off, the evening will have a proper Master of Ceremonies in one MC Zulu, the irrepressible Panamanian-by-way-of-Chicago emcee/deejay who you’ve no doubt heard riding a banging electro-soca-bashment tune or two while walking like a motherfucking champion. I can’t even tell you. We’re gonna party like it’s 1999, which, since the world’s supposed to end next year, seems just about right.

Oh, and just so you how much we care, our flyer swag is on double-time this week (thx, tim) —

BEATRESEARCHmczuluflyer

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June 23rd, 2011

Wayne b/w “Actual” Wax

I’m happy to announce that tonight I’ll be playing some records — yes, honest-to-goodness slabs of vinyl — alongside Tim of A Stack of Dusty Records, at an old and fave haunt: River Gods — the spot where I used to host Wicked Wicked Thursdays back in my pre-BR days and, yes, the place where Skip Gates and Sgt. Crowley had a post-WhiteHouse beer once back in the People’s Republic.

I’ll be playing two sets, an hour each, probably 9-10 and 11-12. For the first, I’ll be digging into the mid-century exotica I inherited from Seymour & Bernice, and for the second I’ll be dipping into my random assortment of reggae, hip-hip, r&b, and turntablist oddness. If you’re around, should be a fine spot to quench your thirst as well as your appetite for sonic snaps’n’crackles.

Cue exotica-inspired flyer, c/o Tim —

2DUDESFLYER

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April 6th, 2011

April Is the Cruelest Month

What is it with early April? Two days ago we mark the assassination of MLK, yesterday is the day we lost both Layne and Cobain (some years apart) — I don’t talk much about my grunge years here, but rest assured I sported mad plaid in the mid-90s — and today was the day the Rwandan genocide began in 1994, taking some 800,000 precious lives before it was over.

April 6 also marks a memorial closer to home. 12 years ago today our dear friend, Sharif Moustafa, a core member of our tight-knit West Cambridge crew and the BFF of my younger brother, suddenly collapsed on the same basketball court where we all spent countless days and nights — a court now named after him.

SHARIF MOUSTAFA

Thinking about Sharif — his life and his death — makes me want to write about our neighborhood and our city and things like race and religion and community, but rather than mobilize his passing for some politicking, I’d prefer to focus on Sharif here — and on the larger questions his untimely departure raised for us with regard to loss and mourning.

None of us really knew how to deal with losing a dear friend, with no warning, in the prime of his and our lives. Some dark, cathartic days followed. The strangeness of encountering Muslim forms of mourning and making peace was, I think, actually quite helpful in bringing some of us — some of us infidels, that is — to terms with an experience that seemed to resist explanation, that seemed in its own way utterly foreign.

(The Moustafas’ religious life was largely a private affair — one conducted in the privacy of their family home or outside of the neighborhood entirely, with fellow faithful in Greater Boston — and Sharif’s death was a notably rare moment where that veil was lifted.)

For my own part, inspired by the likes of “T.R.O.Y.,” which itself became endowed with new meaning in the wake of Sharif’s death, I wrote a “Song for Sharif,” an attempt to work/rap through some of the intense feelings I was having and witnessing, and though I actually recorded it and shared it with my friends and with the Moustafas (including his devout parents, who loved the Umm Kulthum sample and didn’t mind the additional blasphemy of sampling Koranic recitation), all of whom received it positively, today I find the recording a little too heart-on-sleeve to share more widely without embarrassment.

So allow me instead to offer a few lyrics that remain resonant (and perhaps work better on the page than in my cracking voice) —

How to persevere through this sudden shock of a loss?
Some cry, some wail, some chant their hum-du-Allahs
And some to a cross wanna grasp
How else to fathom the chasm left by a friend who’s passed?
So many questions to ask, so much left unsaid
Some people punish themselves, wish it were them instead
On new ground I tread: how to fill this void?
First time I find that emptiness could have such heaviness
I guess we just gotta remember the very best
Please rest in peace, my brother, you know you passed every test
Of friendship and family and everyday I plan to be
Reminded by the visual memory of the man I see
And when I cannot see, I’ll still hear your tune
You’re like a favorite song, that always ends too soon

Now, I’m not saying any of that’s profound or anything. The process of writing the song was much more about articulating the confusion and searching that followed our friend’s passing — and which, in retrospect, looks a lot like a stage of mourning, both for our friend and for ourselves. Along these lines, I was happy to run across the following quotation from Judith Butler over at Zunguzungu today; to my mind, it presents a poignant and helpful bit of thinking about mourning:

… Perhaps one mourns when one accepts that by the loss one undergoes one will be changed, possibly for ever…I do not think, for instance, that one can invoke the Protestant ethic when it comes to loss. One cannot say, “Oh, I’ll go through loss this way, and that will be the result, and I’ll apply myself to the task, and I’ll endeavor to achieve the resolution of grief that is before me.” I think one is hit by waves, and that one starts out the day with an aim, a project, a plan, and finds oneself foiled. One finds oneself fallen. One is exhausted but does not know why. Something is larger than one’s own deliberate plan, one’s own project, one’s own knowing and choosing…

On that note, May flowers anyone?

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April 4th, 2011

Some Boston Beats (and Rhymes) This Week

Tonight at Enormous Room, Beat Research is delighted to welcome Zuzana Husárová, a Slovakian scholar currently in residence at MIT. In her own words, Zuzana is into:

electronic literature, inter/transmedial narrative, digital art, interdisciplinary literary theory, theory of fictional worlds, multilinear writing, techno-aesthetics, performativity of digital sign, playful aspects of culture, etc.

She also takes very pretty pictures of Cambridge and Boston and hereabouts. And she has an ear for bass music that strikes somewhere between the slamming and the subtle. Here’s a recent mix she put together, which may give a sense of what to expect tonight — or not. (She’ll also present a simultaneous film.)

Zuzana Husárová, Mitohn

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As usual, the details are:

Enormous Room
567 Mass Ave
Central Square
Cambridge
9-1 | FREE

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And later this week — Thursday to be exact — Boston is muy suerte to have Los Rakas sweeping into town in support of Collie Buddz.

Because this blog is a lot more sporadic than comprehensive, I don’t think I’ve mentioned either of those acts here before. Which is weird. Because I rate them both highly and have enjoyed a lot of their music. Collie Buddz has really developed a style of his own, and to my mind he occupies an important niche in reggae right now: not credible whiteboy, but suave singjay of timeless topics.

For their part, Los Rakas have been on the radar for a minute, for reasons that should be obvious to readers of this blog, and I was more than happy when they asked me to retool their bio. Need I say more?

Los Rakas represent pan-American flows. Two cousins who grew up in Panama before spending their teens in Oakland, Dun Dun and Rico put a distinctive “Panabay” twist on hip-hop and reggae, bridging the streetwise sounds of the places they’ve called home. Drawing on Panamanian plena’s faithful approach to reggae classics and the Bay Area’s independent and idiosyncratic hip-hop scene, Los Rakas merge familiar dancehall melodies with a lyricism all their own. The approach is audible on their 2010 standout, “Abrázame,” translating and transforming Gyptian’s “Hold Yuh” with vivid portraits of local love and drama. Thanks to their sustained hustle and creative efforts, Los Rakas have been embraced all over: in the Bay and back in Panama, at local hip-hop rallies and global bass parties. Looking to reach new listeners and never out of place, they tour widely, appearing alongside underground hip-hop mainstays like Brother Ali, Latin rap luminaries like Bocafloja and Mala Rodriquez, and rising reggae star Collie Buddz. Critically acclaimed and blog favorites, Los Rakas keep on top of their game by releasing a steady stream of tracks, remixes, mixtapes, and videos, and expanding their circle of collaborators to include the Austrian aggro-dancehall of Stereotyp and the electro-tropicalia of New York’s Uproot Andy. Working the flexible idioms of hip-hop and dancehall into their own pliant medium, Rico and Dun Dun channel Afrodiasporic dance currents to reflect on race and racism, poverty and violence, love and pride, partying, and the sundry stuff of everyday life. Los Rakas make music born of migration and tradition, critique and celebration, joy and pain. They make New World music. American music. Panamanian Jamaican Californian music. Music for b-boys and rude boys, dancers and romancers, mainlanders and islanders and isthmus folk alike.

Here’s the deets (click here for tix):

Paradise Rock Club
967 Commonwealth Avenue
Boston
Thu, Apr 7, 2011 08:30 PM

& a couple videos to whet:

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March 21st, 2011

7 Years of Beats Researched

Tonight marks an amazing 7 years of warped records, self-destructing mp3s, and other mutant musical tricknologies at our modest but massive Monday institution, Beat Research!


#swag


To celebrate, we’ll be ringing the anniversary alarm with two of our favorite purveyors of bassculture-bred dance musics from the wide, wired world: erstwhile Bostonian DJ Ripley and Boston’s own Vice T.

Readers of this blog are no strangers to friend, colleague, collaborator, and commenter, Larisa Mann, aka DJ Ripley. She’s been rocking parties hardcore for years and blogging about as long as anybody. Ripley’s my kinda cat, if I can say that (why is that word either gendered male or vulgarly female? argh!) — and not just because we wear similar hats.

Larisa practices what she preaches, or better — she let’s (all manner of) practice inform her scholarly sermons. I can’t wait to read her dissertation, and neither should you. In the meantime, she’ll be sharing some ideas from her doctoral research (“decolonizing copyright: Jamaican street dances and globally networked technology”!) at a Berkman Center luncheon on Tuesday — that’s TOMORROW — so you can even watch / chat along.

As for this evening, I’m sure we can expect the sort of trans-genre half-to-double-time steppin stomp that we’ve all come to expect from the talented Ms. Ripley. Here’s a recent set to whet —

Bass, Wobs & Zaps by ripley

Our second special guest, Vice T, has been holding it down for future-now UK dance music in Boston for a few years now, ear to the whatever “ground” it is that runs so swiftly across the pond (one of these, I guess?). Along with the SUBduction crew, he’s been responsible for bringing London luminaries like Roska to the Enormous Room. This mix is a year old, but it still sounds like tonight —

Funky Fresh by Vice T

flashing lights

And here’s a great recent set c/o our guest Ultratumba, whose capacious sense of what works together totally embodies the Beat Research ethos (and you shoulda seen his flashing lights!) —

Ultratumba, Live @ BR 3.7.11

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Finally, I’m thrilled to announce that Beat Research will be helping to kick off this year’s Together Festival with a BOOM thanks to none other than our Dutty bredrin, Geko Jones! Come catch the Que Bajo?! spirit with us on April 18. Wonder what that sounds like? Here’s a slamming set by Geko, FYI —

Que Bajo mix Geko Jones by TimeOutNewYork

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November 3rd, 2010

A Tale of Two T-Shirts

As sported/spotted in Global Reggae class last week —

AFRICA
random dreadlock t-shirt

Jury’s still out on who that guy with the dreadlocks is. My student assumed it was Bob Marley. Now he knows better.

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September 28th, 2010

Downstairs Bhangra

“Downstairs Bhangra” doesn’t quite have the same ring as “Basement Bhangra,” the legendary monthly at SOB’s that DJ Rekha has been holding down since 1997, but I couldn’t be happier to warm up the crowd for her this Friday at one of Cambridge’s biggest local venues, downstairs at the Middle East.

I’m looking forward to playing through that big ol’ soundsystem, especially since Rekha has requested that I bring some good dubby vibes to the party. She also tasked me with the interesting challenge of playing stuff “suggestive of” but not actually bhangra — and she noted that dancehall works pretty well. Even so, I’m not going to be able to resist pulling out a couple classic tracks here and there, especially some seminal early 90s productions by Bally Sagoo, which still sound to me like quasi-proto-reggaeton and which, as early as 1992, seem to prefigure all the various shapes that modern/pop/club bhangra would take over the next couple decades. Sometimes in the same song!

Bally Sagoo, “Lut Ke Lae Gayee (Get Mental in The House Mix)”

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I’m also thrilled that our man VJ Dziga will be providing live visual accompaniment, likely on a Bwood remix tip. Should be a lime. Come twist imaginary lightbulbs.

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Wayne&Wax

I'm a techno-musicologist, internet annotator, imagined community organizer.

I left my <3 in the digital global, but I reside in Cambridge, MA, where I'm from.

I represent like that.

wayne at wayneandwax dot com

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