Deep Funk at Madame Jojo's (Soho) 30/1/09

This was my first visit to the famous Madame Jojo's, though I wandered in riding the crest of a wave of hype. With Ronnie Wood behind the bar and a pit of heaving, sweating, jiving people in front of you it's hard not to be swept away. The decor is 1920s and the feel is remarkably relaxed. Despite acting as an electromagnetic pull for the hipsters it lacks pretension. An undeniable feat in a world pandering to those following the subculture without a backbone. This is the low-ceilinged sort of club that makes you pray they would revoke the smoking ban. The only thing really missing was a faint cloud of cigar smoke floating near the rafters. And so we descended into the bowels of soho expecting perhaps a scene from Dante's inferno but instead getting a somewhat odd mix of 1920s glamour, deep funk grooves and 1980s hiphop, breakdance culture. The night is well established having been running for 14 years with a great wealth of pedigree behind the decks. Tonight the headlining dj was Maestro Keb Darge, playing a mix of 60's and 70s funk alongside what was described to me by my friend as modern soul (think 70s/80s but not Luther Vandross). The warm up dj was getting an enthusiastic reception upon our arrival playing a mix of eclectic favourites that the funk buffs amongst us had no problems recognising. Keb's tunes might have been rarer but they weren't the ones getting the best reaction from the crowd. The feel of the previous set had turned the crowded space into a heaving mass of sweaty bodies all bodypopping, swinging and twirling together like a vast, singular, dance-obsessed organism. When the djs switched there was a period of more subdued head nodding and foot tapping until Keb brought the rythms up a notch to a more lively beat. His being more vocal between songs also interrupted the flow and discouraged the straight up, uninterrupted madness of the dancefloor. Sadly, we didn't stay long into his set but I think it would have been worth it to see the shape progress. His style seemed to be similar to Mr. Scruff's in that you have to stay for the duration to see the true nature of the beast. Like a magic eye picture. Having said that, we left at a peak in the night, leaving nothing but happy memories and feverish dreams rather than stagnating tiredness and disappointed comedowns. Altogether, a good night.