Under the Stars: Black Rave Culture locks in for the groove corrective

We are Under The Stars people. You know the drill, lovers of music and culture. This weekly column stays on message with strong-ass opinions, presenting new music releases and upcoming shows, hustling with the changes, and thinking outside the margins. Hop in. And thanks for spending some time with us. Let’s go…

CINDY BLACKMAN SANTANA, COHERENCE (MACK AVENUE RECORDS)

The first time—absolutely—I heard and saw “Are You Gonna Go My Way,” with fully Afroed-out jazz drummer Cindy Blackman moonlighting in Lenny Kravitz’s rock band to keep the lights on: She’s going full Keith Moon HAM, beating up those damn drums like they owed her milk money. Having a vigorous conversation with Sheila E. “Who the eff is that?” was the question every kid watching MTV asked. She’d immediately, within a matter of seconds, stolen the moment, possibly the video and the song, from Lenny’s whole red velvet shirt-cape vibe. The ensemble in the video for the title track. The one with the armholes? 

Ferocity—you can’t fake it, and she never has.

Blackman has tackled, bludgeoned, and knocked the bejesus out of everything from post-bop to fusion as a drummer, bandleader, and composer, outplaying some of the absolute best jazz musicians on the globe.

Coherence, a jazz-rock funk heater of an album, finds her centrally located in her element, playing the shit you’d expect she’d prefer to play if that’s what brought home the most bread and bacon. We’re talking big rocking cymbals, booming bass drums, and that fat-funky fabulous pocket she keeps time with, just plays ride or die, especially on the low-boomin Hendrixian “The Message Is Love,” where her husband Carlos Santana wails on into the stratosphere while Emilio Modeste takes the lead with melodic to molten saxophone lines.

The temperature of the track? Slightly Billy Cobham explosive fusion, with just a touch of Tony Williams’ attitude. And dammit, Cindy keeps on top of it all, comping in between when it’s needed, lining up big, bam, boom drum hits at the top and bottom of song codas, rocking right alongside basslines from Felix Pastorius. With this type of heat, Cindy is taking no shorts, leading the charge, urging everybody, “Damn, can’t you keep?” And they do.

Pick up the album here.

BLACK RAVE CULTURE, BLACK RAVE CULTURE VOL. 4

You’d think in the 21st century that we would not need a three-person unit called Black Rave Culture, right? Finally, late in the 20th century, we’d figured out that not every Black person you see in a DJ booth strictly plays hip-hop. We’d moved on to thinking more, uh, I don’t know, progressively. Welp, we have not. 

Assumptions are the worst. Am I right? Ask me, a Black dude, a person who FOREVER was asked in a DJ booth at The Top, now Underground SF, while playing the darkest Ray Keith drum and bass records: “You got any hip-hop?” From Black folks, nice white folks, old heads, and, for sure, youngs. Maybe Republicans who got lost and drunk and stumbled onto Haight Street for some late-night freaky Saturday night adventures and young libs who either ate too many pot brownies or just have not figured it out. (I have no proof on the political slant, but my DJ booth spidey senses are pretty reliable.) 

So mid-set, mid-mix, I’d have to explain this is a drum and bass or electronic music party. 

They didn’t ask the cool, hip, Caucasian woman who DJ’ed before me. 

Naah. Let’s see if the black dude got any hip-hop.

And lemme make this crystal. I love hip-hop; I came up on ’90s East Coast golden age biz, but at the time, post-Biggie and Pac getting shot and killed, slain by gun violence, and caught up in a chess match larger than they could maneuver, I started to venture out, searching for new sounds, circa ’98. Too much champagne and Henny talk; not enough soul.

Drum and bass, broken beat, techno, some house, and a myriad of other genres got my attention. Refueled my DJ fire, if you will. So, short answer? Yeah, we do need James Bangura, DJ NativeSun, and Amal, the three producers behind the blunt-speak name of Black Rave Culture. Vol. 4 is exploding with house, techno, footwork, two-step, dub, and baile funk—seen through a lens of the Black experience.

The DC group was created organically during the COVID years when all three members were locked in their houses with nothing else to do but create. Now all three members are making some of the sweetest-sounding, smooth, and flowing electronic music out there. With correct low-end pressure intact, tracks like “Geekin’, are full of dreamlike rizz, kick drum bass love, articulated with that DMX “whut” sample in the background just going off. Or the two-steppy, synthy UKG joint by the name of “Module Select” that you can foresee the amount of understated damage it will cause on the dance floor.

This is, as promised, “Representation, Intentionality, Education.”

Look for it here.

PEARL & THE OYSTERS, MONKEY MIND (STONES THROW RECORDS), AT THE INDEPENDENT, AUG 22

I’ve kept my phasers locked on this LA-based French-American duo, Joachim Polack and Juliette Davis, since their 2021 debut, Flowerland. What’s the frequency, Kenneth? 

Sunny, good-feeling pop; exotic, luxury ’70s rock; Brazilian and Japanese city-pop by way of funk, disco, R&B, softies, and boogie. But don’t let all the hipster signifiers fool you. These cats can play Jack. I’ll save you all the Stereolab “high on red wine and good hard cheese” references; over the past five years, Pearl & the Oysters have consistently put out some of the most chilled-out, blissed-up, vibey records to date. Yes, some tunes sound like the intro to your favorite old TV show. And I think as much as it may look easy to do, this type of music is difficult to make. You’ve got to believe in those Fender Rhodes stretches. Dedicate yourself to the joy these tunes disseminate. It’s enmeshed in the belief in humanity’s goodness.

They sound like incredible, ineffable summertime playfulness. They played at Bliss Fest a couple years ago and do, in fact, hit SF as much as possible, and all reports have been more than positive. So pop a bottle of crisp rosé before heading down to The Independent and get ready to bathe in that ebullience as only Polack and Davis can deliver it.

Grab tix here.

MAE POWELL AT DELUXE, SUNDAY, AUG 23, $5 

There were varying points of operation during which anybody who was in search of a cocktail, some stoic sounds, and a particular vibe on Haight Street, besides the Magnolia type, could have attended at the mystical, magical times of the former Club DeLuxe. The Church of Frank Sinatra was a popular weekly vintage cocktail and big band party dedicated to the music of “Frankie Bots” and the Rat Pack, historically hosted on Tuesday nights, where “dress to impress” was the standard.

Today, The DeLuxe is a new experience in that same classic venue. It just reopened this summer after three years of being closed, and still possesses a 1930s aerodynamic design aesthetic, but now murals are on the walls documenting the club’s earlier days. An all-new sound system has improved the fullness of the room, finally complementing the sophisticated look.

Here’s what’s also new: their booking. The word is that blues, indie pop, Spanish-guitar music, rockabilly, and even Grateful Dead textures will flow from the stylish venue. So I suggest checking out SF’s own essence of cool, Mae Powell, on Sun/23, who is performing at The DeLuxe, and admission is $5. You already know what to expect from her: that classic and unique fusion of telling stories of self-love, nailing the perfect balance of intimacy and vulnerability by way of that free and easy ’70s Laurel Canyon tapestry. Last year’s Making Room For The Light was Powell’s bluesy, folksy, jazz-inspired fakebook of the heart that ran the city abuzz late last summer.

Expect Powell’s sweetness and vulnerability, combined with those rock star vibes; that’s what she does expertly.

More info here.

AUTOMATIC AT THE INDEPENDENT, OCTOBER 13

LA post-punk group Automatic, who are now a duo of Izzy Glaudini and Halle Saxon after drummer Lola Dompé left earlier this year, deliberately removed the guitar from their band, creating a vast space filled with many versions of dance rock and indie music—they crafted their own fonk (with an o), similar to how Devo and ESG groove. They are avant-garde, futuristic musicians, and unsuspecting fans are always being converted—I’ve seen it. They were still finding their new footing at Outside Lands, but the groove comes back around in a couple months: Automatic is still the shit, and I stand by it. 1000 percent.

Grab tickets here.

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