I want my freedom!
I need my freedom!
Gotta have my freedom!
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
Sky-high 20 floors above Hollywood, house queen MC Lady Copper yells this mantra into the microphone accompanied by four-on-the-floor house beats.
Gotta have my freedom!
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
It's 3AM at club Beige as the crowd of mostly gays, tranies and fag hags dance wildly. Shirtless men drippin' with sweat are baptized in bass. Lady Copper catches spirit celebrating the church of music. She preaches house music, family music, love music, makin' the partygoers lose it. Copper's incantations make the people get down like James Brown, hear the house sound.
You got cats wearin' an eyepatch dancin' their ass off..
Copper blends seamlessly with DJ Victor Rodriguez. Victor spins bountiful dance music --disco, house, rare groove -- his repertoire is deep, with over 10,000 records. His relentless mixin' keeps the people steppin'. Every Tuesday for over 4 years Beige is packed to the rafters with feverish dancers. The sparkling lights of Los Angeles below beam into the massive fogged up windows. Hedonism is in full effect. The restrooms reek of cocaine and sex.
Get in line to do a line, dance in time, Corona with a lime, your place or mine.
Beige is pure spectacle. DJ Victor Rodriguez started Beige 4 years ago with Billy Erb. Billy originally started Beige in New York. Now in LA it's a clubbing landmark. The moment we got out of the elevator an enthusiastic woman grabbed Phil planting a wet one on his lips. I hung close to my girlfriend Yvette and we jumped straight to the dancefloor. Lady Copper kept it goin'.
"You might not wake up tomorrow, you better party now."
We grooved on till the break of dawn. The night ended with tequila shots in Silver Lake.
Before Beige we were at Bounce, Rock, Skate. Bounce, Rock, Skate is held Tuesday at Boardners in Hollywood. This once ancient Hollywood dive comes alive every Tuesday specializing in "Damn when was the last time I heard that shit!?"
Teena Marie, Stevie Wonder, El Debarge, Big Daddy Kane, Chubb Rock, De La, Ohio Players, Evelyn Champagne King, Prince, Michael Jackson, Hall and Oates, Midnight Star, Deniece Williams, Rick James, you remember the names..
DiGgIn deep in the CrAtes you got Wyatt Case pullin' out the phattest stax of wax to peel your wig back.
The soundtrack is that boombastic phat shit.
You can often find local DJ heroes like Dusk, Garth Trinidad, Carlos from the Breakestra, the Beat Junkies, DJ Logic, Peanut Butter Wolf and surprise guests mixin' stacks of wax.
The soundtrack is that bombastic phat shit.
Stacks of wax give rise to that!
The soundtrack is that bombastic phat shit!
My mind is lost in the music, shadowworlds of confusion, lost in the darkness, yet loving the excitement. Somehow the dark is bright, music is the light, I take flight in people, music, vibes.
Spontaneous songs emerged from patio conversations. MCs are freestylin' in the corner. Syntactic battle cats battle rap Cadillacs. Yvette and Phil teamed up on a jam called, "Steppin' out tonight." The idea of steppin' out tonight came about 'cuz it was just what was goin' on. Friends steppin' out. Musical call-and-response, Phil started out and Yvette chimed in perfectly with her crystal voice.
Steppin' out, steppin' out, steppin' out tonight,
We're steppin' out tonight.
Steppin' out into people, music, vibes, makin' me feel alive. In rooms full of crowded folks, I move with the smoke. Floating through kaleidoscopes, color swirls of hope, light billows forth. My homey Rich felt inspiration and grabbed my journal to jot down a piece. It went a little somethin' like this....
Motion: the ability to move vs. the ability to travel.
Can you move without traveling?
Can you travel without moving?
Or is it one in the same??
As the music played we were traveling without moving. Moving without traveling.
Ismail broke loose with lucid dexterity on the dancefloor. He's a master of Brazilian capoeira breakdance salsa whatever you want movement. The dude can dance. The warm room of groovers cheered him on. Moving without traveling, traveling without moving.
Nothing matters but the music.
people are losing their sorrows /
dancing till tomorrow.
Strobe lights sparkle
over the getto glamorous all stars,
the educated partiers, the renaissance artists
the turntablists, word sages, actors,
graphic designers, musicians, dancers,
photographers, poets, promoters,
crews of club kids in the multicultural mix
it's like fried chicken and chopsticks-
the Los Angeles hot shit,
nothing matters but the music..