Mark Farina

Spirit of "74"

by j.charles @ textproductions

Friday June 1st, Madrone lounge s.f.

Emceed by Z-Man with d.j.’s E. Da Boss, Centipede and Troublemaker

Ten o’clock, my ass. Just a heads up, if you happen to be in the bay area and wish to attend a show, show up at least an hour after the specified start. Especially if you’re guest listin’ it.

But, whatever. So, it’s June and its fucking cold outside. What to do? Party like it’s the summer of ’74, of course. Old school, disco, and some new shit. Everything from Motown, dub, and disco to hip hop, breaks, and b boy beats. All night long, all culled from the eager crates of three bad ass deejays in four sets.

The Madrone Lounge is a classy spot. Its invitation begins when you walk in the door; right by the red and occasionally blue velvet couches and king chairs. You walk past the old as the fifties jukebox, which I assume does not work. You walk past the movie theater seating clearly lifted from a construction site. You walk past the bar on your left. And at the end of your walk, on this particular Friday, you would be treated to a show: “Rasta Vibration” plays on the wall directly behind the deejay booth, from a very conspicuous projector perched at the end of a long ass pole. Elephant grass and some other unremarkable attempts are painted on the walls you just passed unremarkably, which is nice. They are livened up by samplings from local artists which come in both vertical and horizontal canvases. They are for sale, with a little tag on the bottom right noting artist (and an even smaller one noting price.)

The bars’ focal point is its infused vodkas, which they display very proudly right about eye level. It’s the center of the bar. It sits there, with all kinda shit floating in the bottom of its jar, inviting you to sample one of the many flavors offered by the lounge. I had a beer.

Bossman came on first, after Z-Man’s introductions and accolades. He sports a blue “moog” synthesizer shirt all humble. His second track, “Slippin’ Into Darkness,” by War, comes on early in the set and the crowd goes bonkers, man. All the girls look like they are dressed for nuclear winter, but I guess that’s just summer in the ‘sco. They quickly toss their jackets onto the nearest horizontal surface once “Their song” comes on.

Lotta reggae got played in the first E. Da Boss set, which crash landed (in the best possible way) into hip hop. Fifties rock and a decent peppering of slower instrumental funk that included the occasional spoken verse rounded out a set hot like fiyah.

E. digs through his book of 45’s like a fifteen year old thumbing through a Case Logic c.d. case. He pops on a beat, and (no joke) a short girl with thick eyebrows grabs the mic from the stand and starts to freestyle over the beat. Interesting right? Not really. She wasn’t that good, so the music changed with a quickness to a Red Hot Chili Peppers track. It worked, and the eyebrow girl went away.

Z-Man flowed off and on, dancing and strutting his shit. All the lyrics seemed freestyle and perfectly suited to the night. Not enough of my words go into singing his praises today, but god damn. Z can move a packed set, which the Madrone had turned into a little after midnight. Free flags were waving, hot girls with pretty toes were bouncing, and white guys with no rhythm were …flailing. I was backstage, if you can even call it that. Watching E. tear through his set to find something to set up Troublemaker with.

“It’s feelin’ like 1981 in here…..y’all feel it?” Z yells out to the crowd. They get excited, and he works them. Troublemaker nods when E. mouths “you ready” to him from the booth. He slides the fader over as he walks away and relies on Z-Man to make the smooth lyrical transition.

Troublemaker earned mad respect from both the crowd and me (a recent fan) for spinning into Amy Winehouse and following it up with the white stripes’ “Seven Nation Army”. Top it off for you, sir? How about the Beverly hills cop theme song? How about Z-Man leading happy birthday with crowd accompaniment? How about buffalo girls to finish off your little sweet ass intro? Does that shake your milk? ‘Cuz it should. Troublemaker proved to be flawless as a Swiss watch when it came to the mix, I noticed. The fade as well was the shit, at points I had to lean over into the booth and straight stare.

Z-Man “west west’s” the crowd, and they holla back like some drunk asses, but it’s still on time. The houseman for Madrone puts in a v.h.s. copy of casino, tape 1, to revive the background with the same archaic media. After Ace’s Cadillac blows up in the intro, Z-Man chimes in on some fresh ass flows interspersed with hollabacks and yes, yes y’alls.Z’s flows really just go and go like the bay tunnel. Centipede rolls flawlessly and transparently into his bomb ass set. Brief as it was, centipede carried on the general fawnk mood for the evening. nothing short of what I would expect from the resident deejay.

The blue groove light shines and fades as a warped-ass record turns for E. Da Boss’ last set. Some trashy fashionable tracks (Dee Lite and Prince) from somewhere in high school intercede with shit like Gnarls and Smashing Pumpkins’ new punky sound.

By the end of the night, when the crowd begins to start thinking more about intercourse than entertainment, the music always gets funkier. Tonight? No exception. Some wild west, spaghetti western, shoot ‘em up melody came on at one point after a new Orleans big jazz trip and a dose of the temptations. I know it sounds like a recipe for regret, but it is definitely worth noting how well the pieces blended.

---justin charles