High ceilings, low light

Nightlife's lofty ambitions

This past weekend the concrete jungle was more of a concrete jumble. Each night the West End loft warehouses, quickly becoming the spot for word-of-mouth late night alternatives and art parties, hosted events on opposite ends of the spectrum.
No, I'm not talking about the color spectrum. Anybody was welcome at these parties, if you could find them. The West End lofts can be a confusing place. Maybe look for the blue lights, or Roxanne, or the red light, because listening for beats will do little good as they bounce down the corridors between rows of garage doors.
At Halloween I drove on over, searching for a party I never found, but wandering into more fascinating open doors dumbfounded. This past weekend you could do the same.
Friday night Submedia, an interactive/video collective — whose work has been featured at East Atlanta's Fountainhead, among other places — organized the "Lumina City" affair, full of DJs and interpretive dancers who performed as video projections flicked across them. All credit for a successful event due, however some announcements along the lines of keeping the vibe alive/supporting the underground, etc. were a bit stodgy.
It was Saturday night when the underground was really feeling the love, without the need to tout it, as M.U.R.D.A.H. O.N.E. presented Healing of the Nation part 1 at the Liuns Lair loft, just rows over in the same West End warehouses.
One single spotlight shone from the door toward the central, backlit stage as M.U.R.D.A.H. O.N.E.'s Sinista spun reggae and dancehall drenched drum 'n' bass. Sinista, along with MC Bambu De Asiatic and producer Mafioso, have been throwing parties as M.U.R.D.A.H. O.N.E. (Music Universal Righteously Delivering A High On New Entertainment) for years. They took some time off to concentrate on original material (a Bambu album is planned for release soon, along with some singles featuring several underground MCs), but are now getting back into promotions.
This party was held along with Thunderbush Sound and Liuns Den, and was advertised as featuring recent DMC National Champion turntablist Klever. But Klever not so cleverly called up at the last minute, having to go on tour with his new crew, Miami's Allies. So Detail and Sek of the Break Mechanics filled in admirably. The Mechanic's J-Sun couldn't make it, but fliers for his store, More Dusty Than Digital, did, as well as other DJs including Jah Sun and Hazeus.
The small crowd may have been lounging, but they weren't sleeping on the sounds. Heads bobbed on every couch, and people flanked a wall covered in a lion mural. A couple of ladies made moves on the checkered floor, but it was Bambu's positive rhymes, giving props to Marley, that called the crowd to the front. What I saw gets big ups.
So watch for flyers or a word up. The Klever make-up party and Healing of the Nation part 2 could drop anytime in late February/early March, but the next West End loft throwing open its doors to show off its wares could be as soon as this weekend. There's some sweet party favors being stored there.
Apropos of nothing
When British tribal trance act Juno Reactor played the Masquerade Mon., Dec. 11, it was some wiggy shit indeed. I fondly remember some Juno Reactor tunes from the Perfecto Records fueled/Paul Oakenfold supported Goa/psyche trance heyday of the early to mid-'90s. So I decided to check old Juno Reactor out, but it was more of a headfuck than I expected. I went to the Masquerade expecting to see a couple pasty Brits behind keyboards, but instead I got one pasty Brit behind a keyboard and pygmy polyrhythms delivered by what appeared to be five indigenous bushmen plucked from the jungle in full headdresses and grass skirts. Okay, they had tennis shoes on as well, which mildly detracted from the effect, but like Run-DMC in their Adidas, they raised some hell.
The point of this aside? Live electronic music doesn't have to be cold, and can mean more than switching patterns on a sequencer and tweaking some cutoffs. Form your own damn band!