Turn the corner behind the DJ booth, head down the rickety steps, and you'll find turntable scratching's subterranean Mecca. Downstairs is where the new breed of instrumentalists gather to jam. Inside this haphazardly arranged basement, graf writers crash out on couches and sketch tags in ringed notebooks. Aspiring DJs line up to spy the techniques. The sonic squall pulses out of the cheap speakers chained to the ceiling, and the waft of humid, dank smoke gives the scene a queasy, underwater feel.
All attention is focused on the men crowded in the corner.
Illuminated by cheap track lighting and drippy votive candles, a black platform holds two Technics 1200 turntables plugged into a Vestax mixer. Over beats slowly rotate at 33rpms on turntable one, the second platter of samples is chopped into a sonic stew by the DJ's hand. The free hand manipulates the crossfader and creates the cuts. The sound pumps out of speakers chained to the low ceiling. Q-Bert is hunched over the mixer.