I still recall the very, very first House track I heard. It was some lil' cheaply done thing, a generic tune badly pressed on really shitty vinyl, the music coming through the aging speakers of a friend's old home stereo system. I was unimpressed. I actually thought I hated House music based on that. Flash forward a little bit and I'm at a club with friends, a familiar bass-thump wafts out to greet us as we stand in line to get in the club. We stepped inside and... life began. Where you hear the music, and how you hear it, makes all the difference in the world... House ain't my first love. That would be real r&b music, the stuff made up until maybe the late '70s. But House is my drug. It was the transformation. The music that utterly changed how I see the world, how I process and manifest my politics, my aesthetics. As I prepare to cocoon & hibernate and write my next book, pulling in the cultural reserves I'll feast on while in the cave, I find myself stockpiling the House. I don't want contemporary ironic recreations. I want the real shit, sincere, vulnerable, soulful, exquisitely laid out even as some of the elements (a singer's off-key singing; a cheap ass keyboard) underscore that this is very much a human undertaking.
Some huge blasts from the MURKy past that I'm (re)feeling at the moment: