(you don't know me, but I was there too.)
photos:
http://photos.yahoo.com/bc/indoug/lst?&.dir=/Movement+Detroit+2003&.src=ph&.view=t
snippets of reflections:
Kelli Hand rocks, its always a good sign when a DJ finds herself so
moved by what shes spinning that shes got her hands swinging up in the
air while she jabs back and forth with the crowd.
Underground Resistance soldiers Buzz Goree and Rolando spun back to back
sets on the Movement Stage, jumping off the night session. Rolando did
the hard electro thing to begin with before getting progressively
harder, nothing too rattling, just hard techno grooves.
Kenny and Kevin taking turns mapping out their history of Detroit,
relentless and smooth. I dont know, its always weird for me to see
these legends up there doing their thing like they can, so effortlessly
and heartfelt, and then see all the people out in the square dancing,
right here in Detroit (here in America), black, white, old(er), raver
kids, gangs of hip-hop kids, families sitting up on the steps. All
listening to the groove. I kinda felt good for Kenny and Kevin.
The purpose of doing SPITE was to catch Robert Hood, who rarely if ever
comes to New York. After awhile Hood jumped on the decks and was very
quickly so hard and complex that things felt instantly taken to another
level. It was worth it. One would think that with the bpms pumped so
fast the music would lose character, but it did not. Hood is very hard
but the music rich . His spinning is so serious, no-holds-barred
intelligent and complex that its perplexing. It would seem impossible
to be both speedy-fast and funkythat defies certain laws. But he
manages to do it, hard, hard, rich, speedy-funky beats. Almost like some
gabba ghetto s ** t.
At Movement itself Three Chairs (specifically Theo, Marcellus, and
Wilhite) were the most fulfilling event for me, a black barbecue circa
2030: old disco, hard techno, ancient neo-soul, black, white, old,
young, the intelligent contingent along with those just booty shakin
losing it.
And May hit it running, off into some extreme tweakin trickery from the
startnotes and bass and tones dipping and soaring through the air as he
tweaked here and there, bobbing his head, stepping back from the mixer
like a pimp and then attacking it on beat. Amazing. It was as if the
room had been lifted off the ground and raised a few feet into the air.
It was cool. He went mad old school for a bitelectro, hip-hop (all
pre-87, I remember a Run-DMC track), and old school house jams. I
remember saying to myself at one point, Jeff Mills is playing a
straight-up soul song . He did some scratching and turntable trickery.
It was beautiful. He played Rappers Delight . I spotted an old
African-American woman behind us mouthing all of the lyrics, as was I.
Eventually the electro and hip-hop disappeared and he got harder, giving
those there to hear Jeff Mills what they wanted, but only a little. He
jumped on his 909 and rocked outthe people up front going crazy. He
went back to some electro and old house (it was weird hearing the
crackling of the old records booming out of Hart Plazas sound system,
coming from Mills). Harder again, back to the 909, and then he was off.
What is Kenny Dixon Jr. on? Some futuristic black family backyard party
s ** t? The Stylistics meet Kraftwerk? And then he got to that hard
metallic disco and it morphed into roving Detroit. He was mixing by
then, sliding his way to serious techno and it all made perfect sense,
people, a few dozen now, were on the dance floor losing it feeling his
vibe, streaming in from the back room. I had some KDJ, it was intense.
It was true.
I decided to walk through the morning streets back to the hotel, past
old Tiger Stadium, past the street people huddled up against buildings
sleeping. The streets were empty, they always seem to be that way in
Detroit, that perfect of industrial wastelands.
peace,
