Greg Bowes
Im whisked off without a notebook and completely unprepared to meet New Yorks deejaying legend Frankie Knuckles. Inside Johannesburgs South Station Stuart Hs opening set thunders along like a steam train and the kids parade around in expensive labels and somehow still manage to look completely bland. In a room behind the DJ booth I introduce myself to one of the forefathers of modern dance culture.
Knuckles, a big black man with a gentle, down-to-earth nature, kickstarted the house music revolution in the late Eighties with his sets in the gay nightclubs of Chicago and New York and has been an inspiration to many. When I ask him how it feels to be revered by techno messiahs like Derrick May hes modest: I dont really think about it that much. But I suppose its nice to be at the centre of things, he says.
Knuckles has also been an inspiration to many of South Africas kwaito musicians and its odd that he should come here to play to a crowd thats almost exclusively white. Then again, this is really just another Mother party with an international headlining name. Frankie merely remarks: I just didnt expect the crowd to be so young.
Theres none of the arrogance one might associate with a star of his influence if anything the mega-DJ seems slightly apprehensive. Do you think theyll like it? he asks nervously, after he tells me were going to see if the crowd can handle something a little more sophisticated. Theyll love it, I tell him. Im right.
I met a woman the next day who fell in love with Frankie on the decks. From the moment he takes centre stage the colourful lights seem to come out to play there are cheers, smiles and hugs on the jammed dancefloor. The style-less tribe dont seem so bad.