Month: January 2022

“Yo we just went to church;
That’s what that was.”

We cheered in agreement as loud as we could in that tiny basement beneath that house turned into a nightclub, and at that time it was technically Sunday morning; which meant it was as much church for us as anywhere in the world could be, and the reason we were there was for House music.

I’m not going to spend too much time on this chapter because I’ve already talked about house music and I already talked about Mark farina, but that’s part of why I have to mention the blue rooster and this night in the first place; because we had all been down that road before. As I said, the name of the club was the blue rooster, but the actual place it was at has had many names over many years. I had heard about the house in Santa Fe that was really a club where the dj played in the basement, but it’s just one of those things you hear about, but you don’t believe it until you know it’s true.

I’m sure every city has a basement club, and maybe I’ll see a few, but up until this moment, that night is still the only basement club I’ve been to in my life, and man was it all it was cracked up to be. I’d later find out that the blue rooster was in the same spot as a previous club named the rouge cat, which I’m told was once considered one of the best clubs in the world at one point; this night would support that statement.

Trips to Santa Fe are always fun coming up from Albuquerque for the main reason that it gives you a one-hour drive in the car to do nothing but smoke weed and listen to music. And we smoked a lot of weed; so much weed that when we got there we got all paranoid and started thinking we were lost. We must’ve driven by the club at least five times before we noticed that was the place we were looking for, and even after that we still weren’t completely sure.

We’d eventually agree it was the right place when we saw people going in over and over, but even after that I remember we could only find parking at the courthouse, something I’ve never said before or since. The only parking for the club in Santa Fe was at the district courthouse. It really is a strange place to be on a Saturday night, and tonight, again, would be no different.

We got to the door, and you could tell it was a gay club because they always love my date, and I don’t mean that in a demeaning way, but rather the opposite. Gay men are always so kind to her, and it always means so much to me.

“You look lovely.”

“I love your makeup.”

“So much glitter, you came to the right place.”

They see her for who she is and they never objectify her. Gay clubs have been some of the safest and most welcoming places we have ever been, regardless of state or surroundings. No community is more accepting than the gay community and nothing will ever change that.

The club itself was extremely small, with the bar upstairs where the living room would be, and the kitchen just a kind of hang out area while waiting in line for the one and only bathroom. With that said I don’t think it fit for than maybe 100 people at full capacity, and that even included the dancefloor downstairs in the basement.

The stairs spiraled down like you see in those fancy movies where they’re walking down with wonder, and this was no different. If the first floor was designed as classic and subtle, the basement was full on disco nightclub, with the lit up dj booth and mirrors everywhere. I think the dancefloor lit up too, but maybe it just felt that way?

Mad men on the first floor, Saturday Night Fever in the basement. It must be said again no matter how many times I’ve already said it before; it is still one of the coolest clubs I’ve ever been to in my life, and what made it so cool was just how original and unique it really was. I know I will never have a night like that again; something I seem to say every time I drive up to Santa Fe; both the first time and the last time.

This time we took the trip for Mark Farina, who is a very beloved Dj in New Mexico, tonight being yet another example of why. He was expected to play about three hours, and we were already deep in the basement when he arrived. The best thing I’ll say about this night was how lucky I was to be there, and how beautiful my date really was. I can go on and on about the songs, and the transitions and even the breakdowns where he played three tracks at once, but none of that really compares to having a beautiful woman dancing to every single beat with you.

A secret about dancing to house music, and I don’t think it’s much of a secret, if I’m really thinking about it, is the simple fact that when it plays it makes you want to shake your butt, especially when you drink alcohol too; and when you do both with a beautiful woman with a nice Butt, it becomes a completely different night than you could have ever expected. And let me admit, my girl has a really nice butt.

There’s been many times where she hasn’t liked her butt, but I have no issue putting it in print that I love it, not just for its size but also it’s shape. Most nights when we’re laying in bed I’ll just lay up close to it and fall asleep like that. Or maybe when we’re watching a movie I’ll lay my head on one of her cheeks and I’ll just stay there like that, while she plays with my hair.

Most young men imagine having a beautiful woman and they only think of the sex like it’s some dirty movie, and don’t get me wrong, there’s lots of that, but there’s also times where you just want to lay and enjoy her body; how soft and curvy it is; how the silhouette of it looks in the shadow of the night as the morning sun slowly comes up. And also, how it feels having her up close on you as you both dance and move to the music together, so locked in unison with each other’s bodies that you forget anybody else is there; because to you nobody else matters.

On this night listening to house music in that basement, I’ll admit we got a little freaky, her and I. But again, that’s the way it goes; in fact, that’s the point. To get up on a pretty girl and to dance with her and only her, and to have that moment together. I can’t even tell you how many times it was only her and I; it will always be only her and I. That’s also part of the fun. You show up for one person, and one reason and you end up finding yourself surrounded by people looking for the exact same thing. While you’re lost in your world they’re lost in theirs, and all you can remember are those moments where you each come out of your bubble to enjoy it all together.

That basement was bumping too; bumping as much as any place I can remember. It was packed wall to wall and we were shoved up against a mirror to the side of the dj booth, which was still lit up and glowing. So was the floor; maybe. I can remember sweat dripping from the ceiling; which looking back now, it probably wasn’t sweat and it probably wasn’t safe, but that’s just the kind of night it was. Jammed so tight perspiration was Falling on us and we didn’t even care; in fact we were even a bit proud.

I can remember it getting so busy throughout the night that when you went upstairs to use the bathroom, or get a drink, or maybe smoke a cigarette, or as we did, wander the block smoking a joint, you had to wait in line to get back down. Even as people waited in line we couldn’t help but dance and sway to the beats that were just plowing through the floor and vibrating at our feet.

The closer in line you’d get the closer you were to seeing the madness happening in the basement, and the more you could hear the crowd celebrating with the music. All we could think about was getting back down there as soon as possible. I remember thinking if I manage to get back down I’m not leaving until the music is over. And we did, and we didn’t.

By the time the final track was played we were cheering and screaming with joy, with some people standing on the bar, and hanging from the pipes. I think most of the night the crowd was just as loud as the music, but it wasn’t belligerent or disrespectful. We reacted with such natural joy and pleasure that we couldn’t help but make a verbal response in unison. It wasn’t even about one song or moment; in fact I can’t remember one song he or anyone else played.

We ended up being in that basement for nearly six hours by the time the lights came on, and still to this day all I can remember is the beautiful woman I was with and the amazing music we heard together.

It was around this time, after playing for a funky and groovy three hours, holding the crowd without even a moment of break, Mark finally raised his head and hand and acknowledged us for the first time, as if he had forgotten we were there. A lot had changed in the fifteen years or so since the first time I had seen him. He was not as young and full of life anymore, but then again neither was I, although, I don’t think either of us had to be. The beauty of house has always been the fact that no matter how much changes both around you and within you, the music still always remains the same.

That same groovy sound you heard blowing out of the speakers in a warehouse as an awkward, lonely teenage boy, is the same you’ll hear deep in some basement as a grown man with a family at home and beautiful woman by your side. To finish the night off, as we celebrated the Dj one more time, the owner of the club finally got on the mic.

“Yo, we just went to church.
That’s what that was.
That was church right there.”

We all agreed as we slowly climbed the stairs out of the basement and out into the cold Sunday morning air. I lit up a joint as we walked hand in hand back towards the courthouse a bit quicker now. When we got there I leaned in close to her as she sat against the car, and we kissed softly and with passion, ready to go home and do more than just dance with one another.

Those drives home from Santa Fe were always exhausting but easy; if it’s possible to be both. Sure we were tired, our bodies were aching from the dancing, our ears still buzzing from the music; but Santa Fe was up high in the mountains, and as we cranked a new cd, and shared another joint, the view was always the same, it was all downhill from there. Some things will never change.

3 Dj’s

When I first learned that Paul Oakenfold was coming to Meow Wolf on February 25th, I knew I was going to write about it, but I had no idea where to start. His Global Underground in New York Cd not only inspired my love for the road, but it was also the first gift my wife ever gave me. Our love started with Paul Oakenfold, and it’s safe to say, his music changed our lives. Saying he is a legend and favorite of ours will always be an understatement. Paul Oakenfold will always be the first and only Superstar Dj to me. He was and is the one. I mean, I saw him on MTV once. Back when they still played music, at least.

But that’s been said, though, hasn’t it? Just in his bio for the event alone they covered far more than I ever could, and as much as I love the idea of covering a Paul Oakenfold show, I also know he’s used to that. It wasn’t until I was told of the two Djs that were playing with Paul, though, That I began to finally have inspiration on what and who to write about. Playing alongside the Perfecto legend are two New Mexico legends as Well, Dj Badcat and Reverend Mitton. Let’s talk about them for bit. Oakenfold has enough publicity on his side. Let’s focus on the co-headliners for a change.

First, there’s Dj Badcat. The first time I heard Badcat’s music and her voice were over the sound waves of the radio and I was hooked immediately by her song choice and style. Electronic music on the radio was unheard of when I was a teenager, and now we don’t just get that but we get it from perhaps the best House dj in New Mexico with Badcat. Her sound is real, and personal, and unique, and hearing it is as much a representation of her own evolution as of house music’s as well.

I have found in my moments speaking to her she is a traveler of this world who chooses to be in New Mexico. A beautiful feeling to have, since with her presence we get a sound that can only be called proper house music. Every time she’s in control of the sound I know the dancefloor is in good hands, and I look forward to seeing where she goes next.

Next, is Reverend Mitton, yet another local legend, but in a way it’s deeper than using such a word. To many of us in our thirties and forties now, the house music of Reverend Mitton has been the soundtrack to our weekends for our entire lives, and he influenced our tastes in music perhaps as much as anybody. He was the radio to us before we had a spot on the radio.

With Reverend Mitton we’ve grown and evolved and so has he. Now, not just a producer, but also a catalyst in this city on how to do it right. Combine that with the fact that he can still rock the dancefloor as well as anybody, and everytime he plays you get as true a representation of New Mexico house Music has anyone alive. It’s a bit of a sermon and a bit of a history lesson, which I suppose is the point of house music in the first place. Isn’t it?

I should admit to you, In closing, That part of why I wish to show my admiration for these Djs is because they have given so much to me In their belief In my art as well. They were two of the first Djs to ever let me interview them, and I am now in the process of writing a book that includes their interviews. Paul Oakenfold won’t be the only dj playing that night that had a book written about him, and my moments with them inspire me still to this day.

Interviewing the rev on a Sunday afternoon, or Badcat while we ate charcuterie and drank wine, are moments that will live in my heart forever and with these words I wish to say thank you. Thank you for being strong enough to be you, and for dropping that beat, but most of all, for teaching me that being a local is something to be proud of. Something to celebrate. Local means home. And home is where I found these three Djs. Or maybe they found me.

Go early, and stay late. Everybody playing on February 25, is a legend. Don’t take these moments for granted ever again. See you on the dancefloor.