Dragon Square is actually a market
near Grand Street, between Forsythe and Christie,
with outdoor street vendors
hawking spittle and spit,
dong pad nong
(please correct my Cantonese).
The effect is one of a Hong Kong
ghetto market, minus the Mongkok bird cages.
Soundlab had set up in the very back of the market.
With a yellow pup tent under which
the mixing tables and records players were set up.
Big amps framed each side.
An annoying white van was parked
near the right side of the stage.
The owners pulled out just as
the event was over.
It started just under 3 pm.
The park was hard to find.
I was under the impression that
it was closer to Houston Street.
I wandered around confused for a while.
"Hey Mami, donde esta Grand Street?"
Most ppl trickled in by 5 pm.
There were nine sets, as follows:
(1) DJ Tom from Frankfurt, Germany.
An 18 year old boy with peach fuzz on his chin.
He spun a massive combo of breakbeat d n' b.
He pouted after his set
because the record needle kept on skipping on him.
He wants all to know that
this was *not* on purpose.
Petulantly, he snacked on
Chinese snack cakes and dim sum,
and navel oranges.
(Thanks Tom, for the Lucky Strikes,
the strange Spanish Presidente beer,
and the history lesson on manic house,
happy hardcore, jungle and drum & bass.)
(2) King Louie, an African American in shades.
He played a set with smooth jazz interspersed.
(3) Kee
What can I say?
Two skinny men with glasses,
tweaking knobs on three mixing racks.
(Wrapped afterwards in a baby blanket.)
Typical scratchy, screechy Soundlab sound.
(4) Ambassador Jr.
This man was very good.
Heavy scratching and sampling,
from (I heard) the Beastie Boyz and reggae tunes.
A man in black, with Tevas.
Drinking out of an old, dirty plastic bottle.
(5) Eye Sound (sp?)
Mix of reggae and old skool rap.
(6) DJ Singe (aka Beth)
Female DJ
(We *need* more estrogen!)
spinning Rastafarian ragga.
(7) Blank Slates
An impressive 7 member band
with two keyboardists, saxophonist,
drummer, 2 MCs, and mixing rack.
They also played the last set,
in a slightly different configuration,
under the name of Electro Foetus.
(8) DJ Wally
A big white bald man with a Rawkus tee.
And a mean, fat ass keychain.
He spun d n' b breaks and some old skool jungle.
(9) Electro Foetus
If they weren't dreadlocked,
then they were bald.
In addition to Blank Slates,
a Japanese Rastafarian blowing on a wood flute,
a bald African American on guitar,
a female vocalist in a green mesh tee
with neon yellow bra and cammo clam diggers
and Dr. Seuss tattoos were added.
The drummer had thick Banasta dreds
with a "Crow"-like black raccoon smears
around his peepers.
Unorganized noise.
Everyone was playing out of synch, to their rhythm.
Screaming and banging out their bliss.
Howard was the MC Verb,
interspersing the sets with comments.
Peter was the Smoothie King,
mixing up frosty glasses of papaya,
mango and banana.
(Thank you, Peter!)
The audience was interesting.
A gap-toothed, grey-haired Chinese grandma
with a white bandana around her forehead,
was in the front, screaming:
"Give me more! More!"
She later sat herself behind the drummers
in Electro Foetus, bitchin':
"It doesn't sound good,
I don't know what's goin' on,
But it doesn't sound good..."
They took it in good humour.
It was all great fun.
Soundlab will prolly do it again this summer.
(Watch for the Smoothie King.)
They've done it before
in the past two years.
Call the Infomix 212.726.1724.
!Namaste!
_Yvonne_
==
" A naked lunch is natural to us,
we eat reality sandwiches.
But allegories are so much lettuce.
Don't hide the madness. "
-- Allen Ginsburg (1954)
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