Sunday has always been a no work day for me. I really have always just allowed it to happen. No plans except for a starter . . . like a good brunch with friends. Brunch consisting of an array of fluids creating a beverage buffet. This is essential while waiting for a nourishing pancake sandwich after a night out DJing then drinking.
People don't understand the important balancing that a good spread of beverages can supply. I would gladly down at least half of the above selections. I have always needed fluids to survive even the most easily laid plans. So a typical brunch starts with a huge glass of water, fresh juice when available (preferably chunky orange), coffee (iced), and a mimosa.
The plans could then be laid to topsy turvy through town, take an afternoon nap and catch up later or play through. One thing has remained secure aside from small lapses, a good Sunday night party.
First, of course, and for four years of my life was
Body & Soul. A gorgeous foray into the world of house music. Three DJs (
Francois K,
Danny Krivit,
Joe Claussell) and a 1000 people. Every color, every creed, every age, every sex. A stunning array of humanity dancing. DANCING! FULL ON! And sweat. For the first two years I wore almost the same t-shirt every week and became a recognizable figure within the community of regulars. It said God is a DJ in big white letters,
Zoe and I got them in the most bizarre way at a Faithless concert. People would come up and offer me money for it. Even large and laded with sweat! I learned not to be embarrassed by anything and just allow myself the freedom to be...me.
The greatest thing was meeting so many people that have become such stalwarts of my time in NY. Best friends for years, met on a dance floor or after at some bar calming down.
One term came of those days and still sticks although not used as often due to lacking circumstances, was "puddling." It was used mostly for me being the most intense sweat'er outside my friends Todd and John. Puddling basically means to stand in one place and be in the middle of small body of water that has dripped from your sodden t-shirt to the floor. You can never fault something that creates new vocabulary.
After B&S ended there was a dearth for a moment while we were all reeling from the loss. Everyone put on weight from not having that marathon session at least once a week.
Then I found a party in full swing that I had heard about, Sundays at APT. Hosted by the remarkable
Patrick Duffy and the mild-mannered bon vivant Juan Skinner. It became a stop on my social register. This was a gathering of sin and decadence and friends, never about the music. That sounds harsh and well I guess it is...
APT is one of those places that I have an extreme love/hate relationship with. It is a two level space with a gorgeous upstairs fashioned like a lovely apartment loft and a downstairs bar. Upstairs is the meet and greet and downstairs is the dance. APT has always had a tradition of serving up the best music that a space could offer and for years that has held true with very little wavering.
My problem is the downstairs space is like a death dream come true. The best music but you have to suffer the space. It makes me think of
Phantasm, a creepy little horror film from the 70's. Within a half hour of being in the space I get creeped. Severely. At the beginning I always thought I was the only one. Then one night
Matthew Herbert was playing and my friend Jason (
DJ MSG) came up and said:
"You must be in heaven."
"Yea, I would be if it weren't for this space".
"I know! My girlfriend and I have to stand by the door, we can't take it".
It sucks because downstairs always has the best music.
SO for the last years I have been going to APT and loving my friends but suffering through what can only be termed coke-house. I have got to once again though give it up to the party for giving me some new vocab. The party was great again for its brilliance in giving great door. During Xander's tenure at the door the space was a brilliant mix of everything. I once observed him telling three secretaries at the door:
"Listen girls! This is a New York party and you have got to carry! If you think you can carry then I'm going to let you in...but if you don't THINK you can carry then you should probably go".
They left. Love.
Patrick and Juan decided to end the hosting duties after a successful five year run. I needed another Sunday getaway.
I have found it. It might be my favorite.
Tubway Sundays with DJs Nita and Gant!
WHAT A RELIEF! It is at
Mr. Black the last good gay club in New York. Refreshing and honest it's approach it is FUN with a wonderful old school attitude.
I wandered in and watched that first time listening as the party moved into the night. I love watching a party develop until I am swept up finding myself disappearing as it becomes more colourful and vibrant. Don't get me wrong I participate! I dance like a fool! I sweat! I holler "WORK" at the top of my lungs.
Nita and Gant are spinning together in what must be the truest symbiosis of DJ talent I have seen in a long time. Look, being a DJ myself, I am the first to admit that listening to others is sometimes tough. I mean we all have egos and insecurities to match. But this is something special and my hat is OFF. Expertly splicing loops and samples, overlaying a cappella vocals and tying it together in a fresh yet somehow rough retro way. Skank, but with a purpose. Masterful but with edge and experimentation that never verges on planned. Drifting off into tangents then swirling you right back to a chopped beat and vocal a plenty.
This is the first time in a long time that I felt cute at a party. And for me that means music, atmosphere and dancing. It takes a lot for me to leave behind all the walls I've built and this party does that for me.
There is a tradition here as well that predates much of the current gay scene. An appreciation of being on the floor and working it not just for yourself but for others benefit. Cruising, instead of serious glances, becomes fantastical moves to the beat. Vogueing is here and alive and swirls into the eye with avid back bends and ankle falls that serve gasps and applause.
This is the first time I have felt sexy at a club...I think ever. The kids are up in my business too. I guess I am finally a daddy. :/ :\ :)
So here it is and this is where you will find me. I can think of no place I'd rather be. In fact, I already start thinking of it midweek. We will sit and have a talk with Nita and Gant as soon as they let me. I feel honored to have such a place to set down each week.
