 |
Spot On
Local urban/hip-hop/poetry showcase celebrates two great years
By Jim Ridley
JULY 5, 1999:
The room was bigger. The crowd was bigger. The emcee was different. But
in other respects, the second-anniversary edition of The Spot was
much the same as the night it first started, June 22, 1997, in the tiny
performance space above Bongo Java. For three-and-a-half hours last Sunday
night, at The End on Elliston Place, the small stage was crowded with
open-mic poets and daredevil rappers, with booting funk bands and a
cappella harmonizers.
As volunteers passed through the crowd, lighting candles at each table,
host Jon Royal warmed up the room with a round of The Spot's game-show
segment, "Name That Groove." Two players were drafted from the audience,
and while the house band cooked up classic funk riffs, the contestants
competed to guess the song first. On this night the winner was John
Kilcrease, even if Royal and the crowd groaned in mock dismay when
Kilcrease misidentified Stevie Wonder's "I Wish" as "Superstition."
At more than 150 people, the audience was larger than at The Spot's
original shows. But when regulars such as performance poets Rahz and K-Love
took the stage, they were greeted like returning family. What's most
remarkable of all, perhaps, is that this family has been together for such
a short time: Two years ago, there simply wasn't an outlet that encouraged
collaboration between urban, hip-hop, and spoken-word performers. That so
many people showed up to celebrate The Spot's anniversary says much about
its galvanizing presence in the local music scene.
It's hard to imagine, based on Sunday night's attendance, just how
difficult it has been for local African American artists (apart from
multi-racial rock bands such as Jack Johnson and Dreaming in English) to
get regular club bookings. "If you didn't have a track record of selling
beers, no restaurant or bar or club would take the risk," Spot cofounder
Kimberly Steger says.
A Nashville resident since 1992, Steger had coordinated an urban-music
night for the NEA Extravaganza in '97. At the same time, local alliances
like the Society of Black Artists (SOBA) were attempting to unite the many
strands of Nashville's urban-music scene. Steger and Christopher Davis,
a.k.a. DJ cool.out, came up with the idea of a regular free-form showcase,
not just for hip-hop but for poetry, soul, jazz, and "anything else with an
urban aesthetic," Steger says. Davis came up with the name "The Spot."
Ken Bernstein at Bongo Java After Hours was the first to offer The Spot
a home. The first evening featured a solo turn by Jack Johnson's lead
singer, Kurtis McFarland (now Nadir Omowale), along with folk/hip-hop
vocalist Iayaalis and poet Keisha Rucker; a sizzling house band composed of
Mark Nash, J.C. Teasley, Melvin Brown, and Percy Person backed singers and
spoken-word artists alike. Steger and Davis spent weeks getting the word
out, even getting bounced from Starwood when they tried to distribute
flyers. But when the doors opened for The Spot that Sunday night, 94 people
packed the den-sized room. Two weeks later, the crowd had swelled to 121
people, and dozens more who were turned away stood outside listening to
Count Bass-D and singer/poet Jeff Carr.
Over the next two years, The Spot became a magnet for what Steger calls
"Nashville's urban progressive culture." It only grew more popular after
the release of the movie love jones, whose romantic vision of an
African American bohemian community subtly changed the technique of The
Spot's freestyling verbal performers. Open-mic segments began drawing a
core group of "house poets" such as Church, Rahz, Ara, K-Love, and Shellie
Warren. The showcase's focus widened to include jazz combos, turntablists,
hard rock, visiting authors like former Real World cast member Kevin
Powell, and even the deranged shock-theater troupe Holtzclaw, who climaxed
one show by leading the entire audience in a chorus of John Cougar
Mellencamp's "Jack and Diane."
At the same time, the spoken-word content became charged with social
comment, as when Keisha Rucker and Anthony Cunningham hushed the crowd with
a piece called "I Got the AIDS." As The Spot resurfaced in newer, bigger
venues, its audiences grew more varied. At one show on Lower Broadway, the
predominantly African American crowd was joined by groups of German
tourists. In all that time, the showcase never missed a show date--even
when tornadoes ripped the city apart in April 1998.
Since moving to The End last December, The Spot has undergone a few
changes--the most notable being the departure of cofounder and longtime
host DJ cool.out in February. Last Sunday, however, The Spot was what it
had always been: an exciting cultural collision point where anyone could
feel welcome. The unpredictable singer/bandleader/producer Bo electrified
the crowd with songs that welded Josh Burns' dazzling acid-rock guitarwork
to funk grooves and irresistible glam choruses. And despite stiff
competition from crowd favorites K-Love and Ara, the poetry challenge was
won by a first-timer: a Pakistani poet named Masood Raja.
"I've never even been here before," enthused Raja, a Vanderbilt
student. "My friends brought me." After two years, The Spot continues to
prove that in Music City, the city limits extend far beyond Music Row.

|



|