Shake a "Legg"

It seems natural to assume that having a foul-smelling appendage would be the pits, but if the popularity of the GS Boyz’ quirky, dance-along smash single “Stanky Legg” on downtown’s rap-centric Main Street drag is any indication, gamey gams are the quintessence of the hip-hop nightlife scene.

It’s a peculiar dance. Basically, you squat down, hunch your back a bit, extend one leg out and rotate it at the knee. Imagine your left foot is stuck to the floor while you’re trying to stamp out a lit cigarette that’s about a step too far away with the right.

The Stanky Legg isn’t particularly attractive, either. Wandering into a room full of people doing it feels the way Will Smith must have when he stumbled across that pack of sleeping zombies in I Am Legend. Nevertheless, the song’s digital teenks are beyond catchy, and it has completely taken over Main Street at the moment.

“It’s a movement that’s come down from Dallas,” says the affable Cary Nelson of Ambience Entertainment, a promotions company employed by several of Main Street’s rap clubs. “They don’t party up north like we do. People in the South like to dance. So the songs with dances to them are real popular.”

Take Martell’s Video Lounge and Brandy Bar (308 Main), for example. This particular Saturday night, it inches near capacity by midnight. The crowd of mid-twenties “urban” dancers is hardly caught unawares when any of the D-Town Boogie tracks come on.

There are numerous versions of these songs, all of which are far more fun than thought-provoking. A personal favorite is the “Ricky Bobby,” named after the Talladega Nights character, which urges you to jig like you’ve never jigged before.

Along with Club One (723 Main) — a slapdash, futuresque venue that feels more upscale than Martell’s but will almost certainly not age as well — Martell’s sits near no less than three other hip-hop-oriented Main Street clubs: The Office Bar and Lounge (310 Main), clearly the area’s most popular dance destination, the serviceable iBar (506 Main) and Level Nightclub (412 Main).

Back at Martell’s, one of the club’s two rooms is an upstairs area marked by an early-era business-bar vibe; this would be the brandy bar section that features a few flat-screen TVs, reddish carpet and walls and a small dance area. The second is a large, cave-like downstairs section that is almost completely black and is itself divided into a two-level venue.

The rooms are connected by a narrow, backside staircase that’s fun to explore all of about three times before it just becomes frustrating.

“The only thing I don’t like about this club is that I can’t get fucked up like I want to because of all the stairs,” laughs Dallas native Terica Myers. “And I can’t wear my heels either.”

When all the lights are on, it’s obvious that Martell’s is not a pretty place. But beyond its less than polished appearance, the club serves its party-hunting clientele just about as well as it can.

“It’s cool,” says the very popular Dennis Thomas, currently celebrating his 29th birthday with about 90 of his close, personal stanky-leggers. But why did Thomas choose Martell’s over the numerous other nearby hip-hop clubs?

“I wanted to have it somewhere where it was going to be my party,” he replies. “It’s not as upscale as The Office, but I never understood why people wanted to stand in a long line and then pay $20 at 10 [p.m.] to get in there anyway.”

LAST CALL

A few weeks ago, we got an unexpected Facebook message from one Craig D. Lindsey. Lindsey is the original Nightfly and, in all likelihood, the best to ever do it. He mentioned that he would be in town from North Carolina over the weekend and wanted to meet in person. We spent the night driving around town, making stops here and there in a Nightfly history tour of sorts that involved Lindsey being told to “chill out, bitch” by a drunk girl, then swiping some food off of her plate in retaliation when she wandered away.

It was good, clean, food-stealing fun, but hardly under pleasant circumstances. Lindsey informed us he was in town helping search for his brother Daryl, a 28-year-old autistic who has been missing since March 4. Knowing Lindsey and his family are in this situation hurts our heart very much. Daryl is a six-foot, 180-lb. African American, last seen in a white shirt and blue shorts with a yellow stripe down the side.

Should you see him, please contact HPD orTexas EquuSearch search coordinator Frank Blackat 713-301-6813.