Dancing with the Devil

On Dante's Hifi and Art Basel

There are two types of people in the room, those that came to see, and those that want to be seen. For context, the weather is a complete contrast from the deeply dry and stark nineteen degrees we left behind. It’s 75, humid, and palm trees drape their shadows languidly over streets and sidewalks where patrons creep out of every corner and crevice. Artists are also appearing, spray paint cans in hand as they tag walls and make murals. It is Miami, after dark, on the first night of the full moon in December.

The GPS directs us to an alleyway, where people are posted up, music plays, vinyls are sold in crates, and in refurbished industrial style buildings that scream gentrification, people sell food. The alley has opened up to a courtyard full of people milling about, a tent at one end, the kind you see at tailgates, hosts a DJ, and the music is loud and vibrant, like all of the murals adorning the walls. This is not what we came for.

A conversation, some cajoling, and a few paces later, we are led behind a black velvet rope, through a large door, into a vestibule in black, with a deep velvet curtain acting as a door. We step in and instantly it sounds like we are in the Cotton Club, or the Savoy, or any other notable jazz club in New York when jazz was hot…with the wrong type of people. There are two types of people in the room, those that came to see, and those that came to be seen. The ones that came to be seen order the “right” drinks, talking loudly, awkwardly taking up extra space, looking around to see who is seeing them while snapping selfies. The people who came to see slip in, they hone in on the DJ booth from every angle of the room, occasionally stepping towards the front, but observing, blending, vibing with the music first and foremost.

Deep leather couches and small tables are set out for patrons with reservations. The bar and DJ Booth line the back wall, and a library of vinyl is on display. We are in Dante’s Hifi, experiencing a mix of heaven and hell all at once. Heaven: the clear crisp sound of the Klipsch speakers, carrying the best cut vinyl of Miles Davis, spun by Rich Medina on an Alpha Theta rotary mixer. The deep seating and low lights that promise intrigue and comfort. Hell: the cacophony of self-serving conversation, the awkward stances of people who know this is the right place to be, if only to be seen, rather than to experience the music.

The room itself is dark, the signature drinks are the kind that leave you with a headache the next day, but the music? It makes you wonder if everything was a fever dream. Dante’s Inferno talked about the levels of hell. Lust, gluttony, greed, wrath, heresy, violence, fraud, and treachery are all on display, charmed out into the open through music and libations. Was this the same world that Miles Davis inhibited? Was his work not only an exposition of talent, but an unearthing of the underworld? Perhaps.

The horn stretches so clear across the room that it feels as though he is blowing live. Subduing us through Blue in Green, stirring the pot with Bitches Brew, the power of vinyl is real. This is an analog experience, no computers, just turntables and a rotary mixer that sifts out all flaws in DJ technique, leaving your music IQ exposed. The sound is so clear that at some point, it seems that there must be a stage, must be a live band using that horn to lure us in and summon us into the depths of the hell of our choosing. It’s too good. Like Icarus, we fly too close to the sun, drinking, dancing, experiencing all of the music. Even as the set changes from Miles to disco, as we drift deeper into the night it feels like an ascension well worth the harsh plummet back to reality.

The experience goes on for hours, until we step back into the night, back into a bustling courtyard. Blends of jazz, old school hip hop, new jack swing, funk, disco, R&B, and so much more keep people grooving under the moonlight for hours. A man who could easily pass for a mini Eddie Levert is on the wheels of steel, in a sleeveless black tee, managing four separate turntables with flawless transitions and beat blends, illustrating how hip hop was born of jazz, of soul and funk and the rhythms live in the bodies of the masses. He shifts between 33s and 45s.

People light blunts in celebration, drink, dance, and record. The large speakers are stacked and booming, pushing the energy out into the crowd to be absorbed and reflected. It is the kind of experience that reminds us that the body and soul are not one, they co-exist. The physical responses of swaying, dipping, and just dancing have nothing on the way the music calls to the spirit. It’s amorphous, Like the tendrils of smoke floating through the air, the music latches onto the intangible inside, lifting people up, their bodies the only anchor to keep them from joining the moon as they soar above the sky, alive and free.

This is Dante’s Hifi, Art Basel Miami.