Warning: This piece contains obscenities.
In July of 1998, their band of three years having just broken up, Rodi Delgadillo took Dennis Owens up to Santa Monica and into a club called Science to experience the spell being woven by DJs Raymond Roker and Dj Jun.
“First of all, the music was overwhelming,” Owens raptly recalls, “and everyone in that venue was moving. Even if they were just casually waiting in line for a drink, everyone was vibing. I’d never really experienced anything like that, because I didn’t really go to raves. The farther in you went, the more people were just vibing to the music. By the time you got to the dance floor, people had just lost themselves in the music. It didn’t matter what you did, how you did it; it was a complete cross-section of people, of all cultures, male and female, just going off. And I tell you, that night is what made me kind of not want to be in a rock band for a long time, because this was a whole new thing. With that in mind, I started thinking about wanting to be a DJ.”
This, you might say, was the moment of conception for the Good Foot, the Que Sera club that has been laying down the soul every second Friday for the last dozen years, and is currently in the midst of its final year of life.
At right: Photo by Patrick Miller. DJ Dennis at Alex’s Bar, December 25 2010
Owens, a lifetime Long Beach resident and (among other things) bass player for the alt-groove fantastic Free Moral Agents, had been a longtime collector of vinyl records and now found himself with a yen to DJ a set somewhere around town.
But Delgadillo had bolder ideas: “Rodi was like, ‘Well, why don’t we just start our own thing?'”
By way of that seemingly naïve suggestion, the pair quickly found themselves referred to Benz at Que Sera, and in September of that year the Good Foot premiered. “I think maybe I’d been behind a pair of turntables once,” Owens admits with a chuckle. “For the most part, it was trial by fire.”
But even in those earliest days the Good Foot was reasonably successful, perhaps partly because of the pair’s focus: “We wanted to spin soul—and there wasn’t really a scene for that. [And] we just wanted to create a safe haven, you know what I mean? A place where you got no attitude from the time you walk in, from the doorman1 to the bartenders.”
No doubt, though, that Owens and Delgadillo’s raw energy and DIY ethos didn’t hurt. “Rodi and I went crazy with the fliers,” Owens says. “We fliered hip-hop shows, raves, mod clubs, soul clubs. We’d go to Cal State Long Beach at lunchtime and pass out fliers. That’s just how we did things, because that was an extension of what we did when we were in bands. […] We had a pretty good turnout for the first [Good Foot]. The next month was a little bit better. Then there were a couple of down months. Then all of a sudden, more and more people started showing up. By the one-year anniversary, it was a madhouse.”
For the first seven years of the Good Foot the duo maintained their marketing formula, “until it kind of ran itself.”
It was around that time, in March 2005, that Delgadillo chose to move on. Nonetheless, Owens still thinks of Delgadillo as part of the club (think Syd Barrett/Pink Floyd).
Enter Scott Weaver of OO Soul (hear “double-O Soul”), who Owens and Delgadillo met at the first Good Foot and who Owens says has probably been to more of the 146+ Good Feet since then. “He was always our biggest supporter, so when the time came, he was a natural choice.”
With the success of the Good Foot, Owens has received many offers to take the club elsewhere, but he’s never been tempted to leave Long Beach or Que Sera,2 which he says feels like home. “I’ve always had a big sense of civic pride,” he says. “When Good Foot started doing really well, I had offers to move it to L.A., but I wouldn’t do it, because this club is for Long Beach. This is my town, these are my people. This is going to sound arrogant, but it’s bigger than me.”
Why, then, call it quits?
“After the 10-year anniversary, I started asking myself: ‘How much longer do I want to do this?’ I didn’t see myself doing this for another 10 years. Plus, recently things have started really picking up with Free Moral Agents, so I’ve had to miss a lot of them. […] My heart was telling me more and more that I had to end it at some point. And I want to go out on a good note, while my enthusiasm is still high. So, not long before the 12-year anniversary [in September] is when I really told myself, ‘Let’s end it on the 13-year anniversary.’ When I finally made that decision, it’s like all this weight was taken off my shoulders. I’m totally okay with the decision. It’s time for me to change it up.”
So mark your calendars: the Good Foot’s final spin comes around on September 9, 2011.
At right: Photo by Patrick Miller. Good Foot 10-Year Anniversary at Que Sera
“Thirteen years in club years is like 13 years in dog years,” Owens says. “I’m even surprised I’ve lasted this long and this well. It makes me think I’m doing something right in this world.”
Naturally, many feel Owens would be doing something more right to keep Good Foot going, but many of the reactions to the news of the Good Foot’s ending its run have been touching.
“There’s been lot of people who have expressed some sadness and disappointment, which is amazing to me because, you know, it’s [just] a club,” Owens says. “I’ve had a lot people say a lot of really nice, really personal things to me regarding Good Foot. When people tell you, ‘I moved to Long Beach because of your club, because of what I experienced there….’ I mean, I’m not bullshitting you: people have told me that, a number of people. They said, ‘If this is the kind of town that can nurture something like this, that’s where we want to be.’ That’s fucking…It’s beyond ‘thank you,’ you know? If I can make people feel that way and make this town a more pleasant place to live, I’ve done my job.”
The breakout success of Free Moral Agents (who play a set January 13 at Blue Cafe, 217 N. Pine Ave.) has translated into both national and international touring, which means Owens may not be present at all of the remaining Good Feet. But for sure he will be present both this Friday (January 14) and February 11.
And, it goes without saying, on September 9. “There’s no question I’ll be at the last one. I’ve already told Free Moral Agents: ‘I’m going to be in Long Beach on September 9th. End of discussion.’ And everybody understood. Even if I have to fly out from wherever we are and immediately fly back, that’s what I’ll do.”
As he has done at pretty much every Good Foot, on September 9 Owens will spin last, closing the show. “I have a specific vibe I try to put forth all the way up to the very end,” he testifies. “I like to put the little exclamation point on there. The dot at the bottom has to be just right.”
My friends, you’ve got nine, and only nine, chances left to experience that exclamation, that exaltation that is the Good Foot. To miss out would be a misstep indeed.
The Good Foot calls you to the floor at 9:00pm on Friday, Jan. 14, then every second Friday thereafter through Sept., @ Que Sera (1923 E. 7th St., at Cherry Ave; 562.599.6170). Admission is $5 (same as it ever was, no adjustments for inflation). Find the Good Foot online on Facebook, MySpace, and goodfoot.org.
Footnotes
1For example, Owens notes that his parents often ran the door for the first several years of the club—a role they reprised on Good Foot’s 12th anniversary this past September.
2The only exception has been the supplemental Good Feet held for the last six Christmas Nights at Alex’s Bar. “You see a lot of smiling faces,” he says. “All the Good Foot alumni who are in town bring their records to spin. […] I think it’s a night where everybody is ready to unwind from the stress of the holidays.” Of last month’s Xmas Good Foot, Owens reports that “Long Beach was definitely in the house.”