Rebirth of The Cool: Kind Of Blu
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Chippewa eats its young. The cancerous growth and transformation of the Chippewa strip over the last several years from a vast wasteland where you wouldn't park your car ever into a sprawling Bloom County Babylon where you can't park your car ever has reached its terminal stage. How many bars can dance on the head of a pin? Chippewa has finally hit supersaturation. No room at the Stumble Inn (Stagger Home) for any more permanent vacationers. Now they must remain in perpetual motion to fit, attended by sycophants and sick remoras. Ashtray floors, dirty clothes and filthy jokes. Ain't you had enough of this stuff?
658, located on the Pedestrian DMZ of Main Street below the Hippodrome and across from the Angelika Theatres, is a reeducation center for Chippewa refugees and displaced patrons of the late, lamented Kingsnake Lounge. The Kingsnake, formerly a denizen of the outskirts of Boomtown and the first victim of its encroaching auto-cannibalism, slithered its last with the killing frost. Like some mythological beast reminiscent of its name, the Kingsnake spawned in its death-throes and was reborn in a brand new lair a little to the south and east, where there is still quiet in the land. Two of the high priests of this big black nemesis are Dr. Wisz and DJ Scotty, the dynamic duo that form the apex of the experience known as Deja Blu.
Held on Friday Happy Hours nights from 5 to 11 when the constellations are properly aligned, Deja Blu is a moveable feast dedicated to all things black and round-about-midnight blue. Incense sots the air as vessels of turquoise Go-Go Juice are raised to the celebrants' lips. The grooviness begins to flow with a bloodless sacrifice -- a needle drop accompanied by the release of an oath -- your ass is freed, and your mind will follow.
Wisz and Scotty operate in telepathic tandem, soul brothers from another mother. Their sets blend acid jazz, trip hop and funkadelia evenly into a bitches' brew that springs from the universal mind. What they weave on their dirty and divine loom is chimerical and slippery and inky dark: An apocryphal soundtrack to the never-filmed sequel to "Shaft In Africa". One cuts wax while the other refuels, the exchange made bilaterally between beats as they move up for the downstroke.
The promised land awaits. The tabernacle's built like a brick shithouse. So try a new ritual: Deja Blu, coming to a venue near you this summer. Get on down and move on up.
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