Beat Diaspora: Beats, Buses, Bricks

In New York especially, it is not news that the hottest Caribbean talent performs and records stateside.  The two heavyweight reggae/dancehall labels, Greensleeves and VP, both have major New York presences.  Scour the message boards, the roti and patty shops, the Harlem or Brooklyn or urban Jersey street corners and you’ll find flyers galore for major dancehall parties and Caribbean gatherings of all (red) stripes.  But Philly is a secondary destination — a smaller microcosm of the NYC melting pot.  That’s not to say there aren’t Caribbeans across the city, especially in West Philly.  A 2004 Philadelphia Weekly cover story on Philly dancehall claims 40,000 Philadelphians have West Indian ancestry, and about half are Jamaican.  Enough, certainly, to support some bumping parties where you can wine gyal wine until the wee hours.

I’ve heard glimpses of that scene on WKDU’s weekend reggae takeover, bringing together fresh fresh reggae, dancehall, soca, and calypso (with some Sunday morning Caribbean gospel for good measure).  They big up parties, a lot of them in Upper Darby, just beyond the city line.  I noticed the same thing on Boston Caribbean radio, where much of the action was in far-flung Randolph.  Slowly but surely, as the city proper becomes less affordable, immigrants are pushing into inner-ring suburbs.  I’m less inclined to head out of the city, but this West Philly party circuit sounded like something I could get into.

52nd Street is West Philly’s main street, a confluence of bootlegged DVDs, streetwear, soul food, and a sprinkling of African & Caribbean establishments.  I made a roti pilgrimmage to Brown Sugary Bakery awhile back (and gleefully devoured some black cake while I was at it!).  I also stumbled upon a treasure trove of party flyers — the Trini/Jamaicain crossover blending dancehall, reggae, soca, and calypso that WKDU radio plays.  They were linking to sites like Flava Philly, Radio West Indies, and Caribbean Beatz.

My first foray to the Ibis Lounge was a quick introduction to the chronology of a Caribbean party in West Philly.  I arrived at 11:30.  There were 6 people in the bar.  “What time do these parties get going?”  “Usually 1 or 2.”  “Don’t you close at 2?”  “Nah, we go till 5 or 6.”  Oh.  I sipped my Carib and watched soccer on the big screen.

Of course, this is a different West Philly from the safer confines of the UPenn-sanctioned University City District.  I know a girl at Penn who is from Trinidad.  First excited that I had found some Trini chunes, she turned up her nose.  “Oh, those parties.”  Too deep in West Philly for a proper Trini getting an American university education.  But probably the type who would gladly attend Dutty Chutney across town.

Fluid Nightclub, just off the bohemian-bourgeois strip of South Street, is a safer, more traditional nightlife option.  That’s not to say it’s a disappointing place for a party.  Indians pour in from across greater Philly, lured by bhangra beats from hometown Mumbai clubs.  Expertly mixed with soca, chutney, and dancehall, the music simultaneously bridges the Indo-Trinidadian diaspora and links it up with other African diasporic forms of music from Trinidad and the rest of the Caribbean.  This is not a common feat among two traditionally divided groups in T&T.  Co-promoter Rahsaan of Afrotaino Productions gave me this chutney track to share.

It’s a monthly not worth missing, bringing together a certain cosmopolitan immigrant, a crowd more likely to be studying or working high up in the region’s eds&meds than scraping out a living.  Yet the Caribbean diaspora in West Philly routinely forks over many times the $5 it costs to get into Dutty Chutney to have a slice of Kingston inna Philly, one of their hometown heroes on stage for a night of straight dancehall fever — ecumenical in its own way, sure, but not consciously drawing together across such broad lines (although I wonder about this Jamaicain/Trini cross-promotion).  In any case, it’s coming tonight, where across town I can get a heavy dose of rude boy flava c/o Mavado aka “Gully God” along with Philly’s own Flippa Mafia.

They were originally slated for one such deep West Philly venue, but then I dug up some MySpace claims otherwise. First Lancaster Hall? Then Sherman Mills? Then Blue Horizon? That could be a long night driving around Philly.

Never fear. I caught the El out to 52nd Street to buy my ticket ($35 in advance, more at the door) at Sunday’s Best — there’s something about the restaurant/ticket vendor combination.  An establishment that can sell beef patties and dancehall?  All the comforts of home in one place.  I grabbed a fistful of flyers and confirmed: Mavado will be at Blue Horizon, the legendary boxing venue 1314 N. Broad. Unfortunately, that means no winding until dawn. 8 pm - 2 am according to official sources (although the ticket says party until 3). “Come early,” the guy behind the counter told me, slipping out of patois to address me.  Then he made the hand gesture of shoving forkfuls of oxtail into his mouth — Mavado is going to eat dinner at Sunday’s Best at 6:30 on Friday (right now, it would seem), if I wanted to meet the man himself.  I’ll tide myself over until I can see him on stage.

His 2009 BET-sanctioned hit on the “Unfinished Business” riddim, “So Special” –

Some even newer from the Gully God –

And some old –

I’m looking forward to seeing him bring fyah pon di place in a Philadub style.  There are soundboys all over Philly tonight.  But in New York, where it might be a dozen miles from a recording studio in Brooklyn to a hip party on the LES, it’s only a few miles between South Street from North Broad, Fluid from Blue Horizon.  The city is big enough to support simultaneous circles and circuits and cliques of Caribbean beats and I’m grateful to be sampling them all.