ARTIST: VA
TITLE: Gilles Peterson And Patrick Forge Present Sunday Afternoon At Dingwalls
LABEL: Ether
GENRE: Lo-Fi
BITRATE: 181kbps avg
PLAYTIME: 2h 15min total
RELEASE DATE: 2006-10-02
RIP DATE: 2006-09-19
Track List: CD #1/2
----------------------------
01. Janet Lawson - Sunday 8:26
Afternoon
02. Weekend - The View From Her 8:08
Room
03. Patsy Gallant - Te Caliente 3:38
04. Dom Um Romao - Shake (Ginga 3:04
Gingo)
05. Bobby Montez - Kon-Tiki 6:53
06. Byron Morris - Kitty Bey 8:54
07. Airto - Encounter (Encontro No 4:54
Bar)
08. Michel Legrand - Southern 9:10
Routes
09. Pharoah Sanders - Origin 5:43
10. Mark Murphy - Empty Faces 5:16
11. Webster Lewis - Barbara Ann 5:55
Track List: CD #2/2
----------------------------
01. Leroy Hutson - Cool Out 3:04
02. A Tribe Called Quest - Luck Of 4:34
Lucien
03. Willis Jackson - Nuther'n Like 7:31
Thuther'n
04. Stone Alliance - Sweetie Pie 4:35
05. The Soul Tornadoes - Hot Pants 2:59
Breakdown
06. Larry Young's Fuel - Fuel For 6:10
The Fire
07. Roy Ayers Ubiquity - He's A 5:38
Superstar
08. Norman Connors - Captain 3:19
Connors
09. Corky McClerkin - Searchin For 5:23
The Soul
10. Jean Luc Ponty - In The Fast 4:07
Lane
11. Soul II Soul - Fairplay 3:58
12. Elsie Mae - Do You Really Want 1:27
To Rescue Me?
13. Richard Marrero And The Group 6:07
Time - Feel Like Making Love
14. Roy Haynes - Dorian 6:49
Release Notes:
Celebrating 20 years since the first now legendary "Talkin Loud"
Sunday sessions at Dingwalls watch out in the autumn for a double
album of the grooves that inspired the moves Camden way.
ôTalkin Loud and Saying Somethingö or just ôDingwallsö as it was
more commonly known was the session that shaped a generation, in
sound, style and attitude itÆs influence spread far and wide. It
was the counterpoint to the rave generationÆs acid revolution,
taking that same spirit and optimism and applying it to a very
different music. It built on the legacy of the Electric Ballroom
and the jazz-dance scene that had been bubbling away since the
early eighties but took things to a new level. It became the
touchstone for everything that followed in itÆs wake, acquiring
near legendary status, tempting folk to later claim that ôI was
thereö whether they were or not. It was inspirational,
revolutionary, celebrator and radical. It was a family, it was a
congregation. It was our Paradise Garage.
It all started fairly inauspiciously. The venue had a reputation
for live rock, nobody had successfully run a club session on a
Sunday afternoon and for the first weeks numbers were thin. It
seemed like a non-runner. Then something happened, we had a few
more happening live acts, interest mounted, the word spread.
Before long Gilles and I found ourselves having a very repetitive
conversation after the gig. ôIt canÆt get any better than thisö,
weÆd agree, then surely enough the following Sunday weÆd shake
our heads and say the same thing.
Running from Sunday lunchtime until 6.30pm we featured a live act
almost every week. Doors opened at 12.30pm, and until the band
came on the session was dedicated to the dancers. Gradually
theyÆd filter in, warm-up and get loose. During that first hour
or so IÆd have the chance to play less obvious music, spiritual
jazz, mellow vibes, modal tunes, stuff that strayed from the
obvious 500mph fusion and Latin bangers that the dancers
traditionally loved. As the number of dancers swelled the music
would grow in intensity. Different groups of dancers preferred
different styles so it was important to mix up the rhythms, and
contrast the mad percussive work-outs with more melodic
material, mixing rhythmic and harmonic intensity. I would get an
incredible high from the energy coming off the floor, the
athleticism and grace on display would leave me breathless but
inspire me to push the vibe even higher or find the right tune to
spin off in another direction. It was just a joyous feeling to be
in that DJ box on a Sunday afternoon playing this beautiful,
crazy music to dancers who could interpret itÆs every nuance.
Then the band would come on. For some this may have been the
highlight of the afternoon, but whenever a live act failed to
ignite the atmosphere it was obvious that for the majority, it
was the records that really mattered. However some of those live
shows were unforgettable: The JBÆs, Roy Ayers, Dave Valentin,
Poncho Sanchez who we managed to divert to Camden after a North
Sea Jazz festival, the eternally hip Mark Murphy, the mighty
Mongo Santamaria to name some of the U.S based artists who
performed for us. Then there was the acid jazz generation of
homegrown talent, the Brand New Heavies, Galliano, JTQ, et al.
Dingwalls also brought about the renaissance of British
jazz-funk pioneers Incognito, and we gave a platform to
generation of U.K. jazz talent, Courtney Pine, Cleveland Watkiss,
Ed Jones, Orphy Robinson and many more.
Then there were the artists who just passed through to witness
what was going on. It was not uncommon to find a notable jazz
artist in the DJ box sagely nodding away, soaking up the
atmosphere. Or it would be the new school, Gang Starr famously
dropped in one afternoon. Of all the artists who came but never
played, perhaps the most significant for us were Airto and Flora
Purim whoÆd always been inspirational and talismanic figures for
the scene. They stood there with tears in their eyes, as Gilles
ripped through a selection of their classic tunes, the crowd
giving pure love, the dancers stretching every sinew to show
their appreciation.
Gilles would follow the band, often building his set from a
whisper to a scream, starting with a record so subtle or minimal
it seemed more designed to clear the floor than build the vibe,
but it worked, allowing the drinkers to get to the bar and the
dancers to set the tone for what would follow on the floor. What
did follow was musically adventurous, diverse in style and
tempo, and more often than not totally inspired. Gilles gave his
all to those sessions and the crowd loved him for it. He was
brave, dropping hip-hop and house tunes which upset the purists,
but he was on a mission to present this music in a new way.
Gilles could make an old Latin tune sound like the most
relevant, modern thing youÆd ever heard just by the way he
dropped it; he had a great way of blending and making the
unexpected work. Sometimes it would be something quite obvious
and familiar but it would just seem so right; I remember
StevieÆs ôIsnÆt She Lovelyö suddenly coming out of some
straight-ahead jazz and inducing the most enormous collective
grin.
I would work the lights for Gilles, there was a control unit in
the DJ box that I never fully understood but somehow learnt
how to use. For most part the lights would be dim and subtle,
but we werenÆt adverse to the odd strobe effect when the
intensity reached a peak, and we would often co-ordinate
plunging the dance-floor into darkness at the end of a track so
Gilles could play a long moody introduction, or just something
totally atmospheric. We liked a bit of drama and we liked a few
peaks and troughs. Gradually by working the obvious with the
obscure, the tough and the mellow, the old and the new, Gilles
developed the crowd to respond to deeper and deeper music;
modal jazz in waltz time and everyoneÆs grooving to it, totally
nuts and just beautiful. The session would always wind down
into a more soulful vibe, itÆs one thing to leave a crowd
wanting more, to leave them smiling and wanting more because
theyÆve just shared a few special tunes with some wicked
people, that was Gilles at Dingwalls. At the end we would roll
out of there happy, delirious, sweaty, intoxicated, in love
with the music.
Like any great club the real strength of the session was the
punters themselves. So who were the Dingwalls generation? Post
soul-boy suburban meets post rare-groove inner-city, hardcore
jazz dancers from far and wide, ôacid tedsö coming down from a
night at Shoom or Sunrise, progressive mods and boogie boys,
head-nodders from Harlesden and Hackney, beatniks and proto
beat-heads. A vast melting pot of refugees finding a home in a
club that was far removed from a scene increasingly dominated
by house music. Then there were those whoÆd obviously just
stumbled in from Camden Market and become immediately infected
by the spirit of the session and thrown themselves into the
fray. It was like that, anybody was welcome and although the
place was littered with a myriad of styles and tribes, the
only thing that really mattered was the music.
Conspicuous because of his outrageous Cotton Club/ chicken
shack style, Jude ôthe jazz tailorö was one of many characters
that made Dingwalls so special. We were blessed with so many
creative and colourful personalities adding to the clubÆs vibe
and spirit. Jalal one of the original Last Poets would often
be hanging out with us, they were crazy times and there was no
shortage of wild and wacky people turning up. Then there were
the regulars who weÆd christen from the d.j. box before we
ever talked to them, like the girl we called ôBondaciousö,.
However one personality who was absolutely crucial to
proceedings was Janine, for not only did she promote and run
the session, she also embodied itÆs spirit with her boundless
energy both on and off the dance-floor: not to forget her
supply of diet Coke that sheÆd bring with her and hide in the
d.j. box that inevitably Gilles and myself would delve into
later on. Even those who worked for the venue were memorably
quirky, our resident sound engineer JP with his leather jacket
and cowboy boots but who loved the jazz, Mark the gay goth who
ran the bar and would clear us out of the venue at the end by
playing his Cure records. Last but not least, Joe Strong the
manager, a classic rough diamond Geordie who would constantly
take the piss but came to understand the session, and had a
tear in his eye with the rest of us when the curtain came
down.