JUZCOZ just got off the stage at its EP release party at Isis Houston (1010 Prairie), one of downtown’s newer night spots. The noteworthy
New-Age hip-hop duo was way impressive.
It was, like, a real, actual concert, with dancers, costume changes and even some iffy choreography. But the room is filled with a whole bunch of people who are about to be pissed off because the twosome sprinted offstage before performing their bubbly electro-hop smash “ILuvvideogames.”
Normally, if you find yourself among a mob of 100 or so soon-to-be angry concertgoers, it’s usually cause for concern. If it happens at, say, a show by Z-Ro — also known as “Satan’s Nightmare” — you might as well save yourself the suspense of wondering who’s going to do it and stab yourself in the chest.
But two things are in our favor tonight. JUZCOZ’s fan base ranks somewhere near the bottom of the “Whose Fans Are the Most Intimidating?” totem pole, right in between Panic! at the Disco’s and The Backyardigans’. Also, shortly after the crowd begins chanting, a mash-up of video-game samples blares through the speakers and the group comes flying back out onstage.
The crowd goes yo-yo, jumping and swaying and singing along. Omari McCleary, a New York transplant and occasional wearer of red pants, reacts the most rationally. He yanks his shirt off and writhes about emphatically.
“It was just the right time for it,” laughs the 24-year-old over the phone the next day. “I was thinking the whole thing feels like an out-of-body experience, so I might as well be out-of-shirt.”
But if the quality of JUZCOZ’s show was a big surprise — most hip-hop acts nowadays simply stand onstage and recite their rhymes — the quality of the venue is an even bigger one.
The four-month-old Isis, most recently Boaka Bar, is housed in the historic Isis Building, which opened nearly 90 years ago as one of Houston’s first motion picture theaters. Smartly, co-owners Terry Pratt and Desmonde Thomas let Isis’s ornate movie-palace past act as the club’s central theme.
Basically one big space with a debutante-worthy staircase up to a second-story balcony skirting the perimeter, the room feels huge. The ceilings look to be nearly 60 feet tall, and a large chandelier dominates the middle of the venue. A few flat-screen TVs dot the broken-stucco/exposed-brick walls, but they almost feel incidental.
“I didn’t expect a club like Isis to be in Houston,” says McCleary. “It looks like it’s marketing itself to be a club, but it can do so much more. It’s like a combination of an opera house and ancient ruins.”
Most impressive (and ancient-looking) are the large busts poised about three-fifths of the way up each wall, sculptures that have remained intact since the building first opened. We’re tempted to write something about how their Romanesque appearance makes the dance floor feel like the sand pit of the Coliseum, but really, they’re just kick-ass pieces of culture you don’t expect to see in a nightclub.
The average Isis clubber is typically the same “young, professional, urban” type that nearby Main Street clubs such as Martell’s Brandy Bar and Video Lounge (308 Main), The Office (310 Main) and Venue (723 Main) attract. That’s all well and good, but not, Pratt says, by design.
“Honestly, I’m 39 — I wouldn’t come down here [downtown] if I didn’t own this club,” he says. “I’d probably try and find something else that suited me better. But we don’t think the ambience in here is necessarily for young people.
“We have Houston Harlem Renaissance on Wednesday where you can come and network,” Pratt continues. “We’ve had a circus in here, all kinds of stuff. We’re trying to draw out that older crowd, give them a place to go.”
Old crowd or young, though, Isis is basically the opposite of Club One (723 Main) — one of the most likable clubs on this downtown strip.
LAST CALL
We would be remiss if we didn’t take a little bit of space to pass along a hearty hat-tip to the kiddos in the McKenzies. As you no doubt know, the foursome officially decided to call it quits after about a billion years of rocking out — well, just a couple, but they were years well spent. D-Day is Saturday, when they’ll gather for one last farewell show at Mango’s (403 Westheimer). Make sure you stop by and try to convince them not to split up. And McKenzies, if you happen to be reading this, you guys were dope. Add us to the list of those sad to see you go.
This article appears in Aug 27 – Sep 2, 2009.