Without David Mancuso, dance music would be much less colourful
Bill Brewster remembers the DJ, curator and musical shaman
The first ever record to cross over into the Billboard Hot 100 without radio play began its life at the Loft. The song was ‘Soul Makossa’ by Cameroonian sax player Manu Dibango. This one song wrought a huge change in the music industry and gave us club promotions (amusingly dubbed the homo promo, since so many were gay). Promoting music directly to clubs instead of only radio, became one of the key arms for breaking disco to a mainstream audience over the next few years and led directly to the formation of the New York Record Pool, again instigated by Mancuso, as a more direct way to distribute records to DJs.
François Kevorkian was
an early adherent to the Loft. “It was so magical; so incredible. The Loft was
not the kind of place where you'd go to find a date or something. You'd just be
there to feel part of the group, to be there with people. Everybody was so into
the music and they'd be calling the names of the records; screaming. At the
Loft you could hear people's voices at any time because the music was much
lower. And there was more of an interaction between the people and the music.
It was not at the level where it was a tidal wave just sweeping the dancefloor.
It was something more deep and spiritual, touching you in other ways. Not just
through the body, but the mind, too.” What distinguished Mancuso from the rest
of the pack was not just this incredible environment he had created but the
eclecticism of his sets. Records that no-one else played – or would dare
to play – like Brian Briggs’ otherworldly ‘Aeo’ or the largely unheralded ‘Rude
Movements’ by British act Sun Palace or Chuck Mangione’s riotous live version
of ‘Land Of Make Believe’.
“It was amazing”
enthuses Def Mix don David Morales. “Up to this point, I was what you’d call a
commercial DJ, but when I went to the Loft I heard all this different music. I
thought ‘Wow, I like this’. I used to be there for like 12 and 15 hours
dancing. I was one of the ones who got there early and I was one of the last
ones to leave as well.” Notably, Many of Mancuso’s favourite songs often seemed
to speak of the desire to seek solace on another planet – or plane, leaving the
impression that he was some sort of astral pilot: ‘Life On Mars’, ‘Dancing In
Outer Space’, ‘Serious Sirius Space Party’, ‘Could Heaven Ever Be Like This’,
‘Above & Beyond’.
Despite his huge influence in New York, for much of his working life as a DJ he remained largely unknown outside of his home city, known mainly through the enigmatic bootleg series Loft Classics that was widely distributed around New York, which also made their way to Europe. With the publication of Last Night A DJ Saved My Life, my history of the DJ written with Frank Broughton, and Nuphonic’s brilliant compilation The Loft in 1999, Mancuso’s name started to gain traction among a much wider constituency. Tim Lawrence’s Love Will Save The Day, essentially an extended love letter to Mancuso, further established his position at the centre of dance culture and the parties organised by Lawrence, DJ Cosmo and cohorts brought the Loft spirit to East London on a regular basis for the first time.
David Mancuso brought
together the crucial elements of club culture for the first time: the soundsystem, the party, the music, the environment. In doing so he inspired into
action a generation of New Yorkers. So many of its stars began on the floor at
the Loft: Frankie Knuckles, Larry Levan, Danny Krivit, François K and David
Morales. He changed how music was viewed and helped form the notion of the DJ
as creator, shaman and curator. In short, he changed dance music. In our
current era of hate and divisiveness Hercules & Love Affair’s Andy Butler
best summed up what David Mancuso offered: “[He] gave the Loft to the world as
a celebration of music with a spirit of inclusivity and was all about the best
version of humanity.”
Bill Brewster and Eliot Wyatt are regular contributors to Mixmag

