After spending a Saturday night in downtown Fort Lauderdale (don’t ask), my wife and I desperately needed some sun, sand, and sophistication.
My usual egalitarian urges had been completely quashed by thousands of loud, obnoxious drunks stampeding from one open bar to the next.
Listening to the Art Bar DJ play “I Love Rock and Roll,” “Sweet Home Alabama,” “Blister in the Sun,” “Seven Nation Army,” and then “Hella Good” (in that order) had been the highpoint of our evening.
As soon as we had sufficiently recovered from our Broward ordeal, we hopped in the Saintmobile and sped towards South Beach. It was Sunday afternoon, so we headed for the upscale, urbane poolside party at the Raleigh Hotel.
When we arrived, Fabian graciously ushered us in past the velvet ropes, and we immediately began to feel better in every way.
The gentle breeze on the patio was both cooling and invigorating; the tall, graceful palms offered shade as well as a welcome sense of seclusion. There were no half-empty beer bottles, cigarette butts, or UV-coated fliers littering the ground. Everything (and everyone) around us seemed so clean and pretty. It was all very, very nice.
We wandered around for a while, content to simply bask in the ocean air and enjoy the scene. The DJ, J. P. Rigaud, was spinning a delicious blend of what some people refer to as “house not house” - broken beat with a groove.
Although I’m not usually a fan of this particular genre, it was a superb soundtrack for a sultry Sunday afternoon.
Rigaud’s mixing, like his track selection, was playful yet precise, despite the fact that his right hand was in a cast. Even with this handicap, he was blending various CDs, 12-inch singles, and the occasional 45 into an enticing musical melange.
Working with one hand practically tied behind his back, Rigaud was still able to cue up records, adjust his headphones, set levels, match beats, tweak the EQ controls, and smoke the occasional cigarette. Impressive.
Next to the booth, Benkhelil Bastien was adding some tasteful keyboard riffs and flourishes to the mix, using a portable MIDI keyboard, a laptop, and some virtual synth software.
The smooth and soulful Rhodes and Hammond sounds gave Rigaud’s set a cohesive, consistent feel. This improvisational ingredient often made it difficult for me to distinguish one track from another. Unless I was watching carefully, it was sometimes impossible to tell which elements were live and which were Memorex.
Rigaud and Bastien obviously enjoyed playing together, and their cooperative performance had a very jazzy feel. They casually chatted with various visitors and never missed a beat. As a DJ, I know how distracting those little interruptions can be, but the two appeared to genuinely enjoy the interaction. How refreshing.
Deb and I relaxed in the shade, sipping absurdly expensive water and smiling at each other. Around us, beautiful people of every ethnicity were tanning, talking, and swaying to the music. A flotilla of tourists floated lazily in the large and luxurious pool.
A nearly naked woman was enjoying a massage next to the DJ booth. It was all ridiculous and sublime at the same time. We were half an hour from home, but being at the Raleigh seemed like an exotic vacation.
After a few hours, the lush, tropical sights and sounds had almost completely erased the painful memories of our previous evening in Fort Lauderdale. The attentive staff, balmy weather, and downtempo tunes had worked wonders on my mood.
Although I’m not usually a fan of this sort of SoBe decadence, it was the perfect end to a not-so-perfect weekend.
