PREVIEW:”Funk Soul Brothers” @ Record Bar w/ Ozgood, Fat Sal, Nezbeat & Miles Bonny

By Chris Mills
Dementia Magazine  May 23, 2012

Kansas City-San Francisco extract, DJ Ozgood, and Lawrence-San Francisco extract, Nezbeat, are coming back home for what’s guaranteed to be your best dance option on Friday, June 1st in the “Funk Soul Brothers” party at Record Bar. Joining them are KC-residents, DJs Miles Bonny and Fat Sal.

Having Ozgood and Fat Sal back together on the turntables should be a real treat. The two selectors were best known back in the day for holding down Thursday nights at Jilly’s on Broadway from 2003-2006. In fact, a Demencha contributor once wrote in our print zine about the successful dance night, “The salt from my sweat completely blinding me wasn’t just an exceptional night, it was the standard.” Expect that standard to return to form, at least for one night, while these four taste-makers take you on a jam-filled journey to reaches outside of your own conception of what a dance party can be. One thing that really set off Sal and Ozgood’s parties at Jilly’s was the vibe, an essential element for any successful dance weekly. In addition, we can’t really lie and say that Nezbeat behind the turntables wasn’t a surprise. But all four of these DJs are probably going to come out of left-field and throw all types of luscious dance music at you.

We’ll see you on the dancefloor at Record Bar on Friday, June 1st, and hopefully we can get an exclusive mix from Ozgood in the meantime before he jets back to KC for this party. Until then, let these tasty dance treats from his Afrolicious parties in SF wet your appetite.


Kokomo in the KCMO

by itch Weekly  May 26, 2011

Soon, the smell of citronella will waft through backyards, and your taste buds will yearn for grilled foods and boat drinks. But before you break out a Hawaiian shirt and set up your makeshift outdoor paradise, head to R Bar and Restaurant (1617 Genessee, 816-471-1777) for Tiki Tuesdays. Dine on homemade Spam sliders and enjoy intoxicating half-price “Freaky Tiki” cocktails, such as the Hemingway daiquiri (made with white rum and Luxardo Maraschino liqueur) and a classic, handcrafted Mai Tai made (made with Appleton rum). Beginning at 8 p.m., DJ Patrick Alexander (aka DJ Fat Sal) spins island music. Relax, unwind and leave the sunscreen at home.


DJ Delight

by Andrew Miller
Pitch Weekly November 24, 2005

Fat Sal and Señor Ozgood Soundsystem

Thursday, November 24, at Jilly’s

Seeing a DJ work a sparsely populated room filled with uninterested drinkers ranks among nightlife’s most pitiable scenes. Fat Sal and Señor Ozgood, whose Soundsystem event has been a popular Thursday-evening attraction at Jilly’s, want to avoid that pathetic plight (not that they’re in danger of it), so they’re ending their three-year run on Thanksgiving.

“It’s time to move on and see other venues,” Sal (Pat Alexander) says.

Sal first dropped his needle at 1744 Broadway alongside DJs Superwolf and Memphis Black, back when the venue was known as Pauly’s. Teaming with longtime friend Oz McGuire in June 2002, Sal dug into his 10,000-record stash for reggae and soul 45s (favorite cut: Tenor Saw’s “Ring the Alarm”). McGuire contributed contemporary twists on the same genres, such as hip-hop tracks that sampled old-school material (favorite: Lyrics Born’s “I Changed My Mind”). Maximon, the Guatemalan god of vice — manifest at gigs in the form of a chubby, weathered shrine — was the crew’s unofficial third member, accepting donations of cigarettes, alcohol and cash.

“At first I wasn’t a believer, but now I think it’s [Maximon is] part of the reason we were so blessed,” Oz says. “It was something all the art kids believed in, part of the Crossroads mythology.”

Sal and Oz, both of whom are artists, saw Jilly’s as the official Crossroads spot, at least while they were presiding over the turntables. The Soundsystem’s core crowd (artist acquaintances making the trek from their studios) remained constant, but the supporting cast shifted from west-side residents (during the Latin-music-heavy inaugural summer) to Westport preps (lured by radio ads.)

“We filtered out the lowest common denominators, because the room was so small and so loud that if you had closed ears, you wouldn’t be in there,” Oz says, referring to his and Sal’s nonmainstream, eclectic play list.

Oz heads to another cool-kids friendly venue, the Record Bar, on Thursdays in December — without Maximon. Sal, who just got married, hasn’t planned his next DJ move.

The set begins at 10 p.m., but if familial obligations keep you stationed at home long after turkey consumption, come out when you can. “At midnight, all hell breaks loose, and there’s 90 minutes of bliss — DJ heaven,” Oz says.


Fat Sal and Señor Oz Soundsystem

by itch Weekly  July 21, 2005

Though no one has really complained, we think it’s probably time to take a break from Kabal — at least for a week — and turn our attention to a weekly party presided over by some of the working-stiff DJs who provide booty-shakin’ sanctuaries to people who find themselves suddenly and inexplicably drink-in-hand on a weekday night. In contrast to big dance towns such as Miami and Chicago, with their seething, oily club nights, Kansas City’s casual-dance scene covers everything from the foxtrotting gray to the go-go-dancing gay, Somewhere in between lie fun-loving cats like Fat Sal (Pat Alexander) and Señor Oz (Oz McGuire, pictured), whose Soundsystem pumps out eclectic, funky dance mixes from way off the radio dial every Thursday night at Jilly’s. Best of all, it only costs a couple of bucks to get in, unlike the steep cover that the big clubs have to charge to bring in nationally recognized names. Once inside the bar, patrons notice that the place is so small that it’s impossible to get jiggy without being in view of everyone in the house. Rather than become wallflowers, though, adventurous Midwesterners still clinging to college youth pummel their inhibitions with booze and dance the night away. What else are DJs for?


Soul Survivor

Pitch Weekly September 22, 2005

….So when I offered to furnish DJ Oz McGuire with $30 to teach me a lesson in record shopping last Thursday, Hobley’s Music and Books is where he insisted on going.
“You hit me at just the right time,” Oz said as we got into his car. “I haven’t been excited about a record store in ages.”

I’d never met Oz before, but I had a hunch he’d be a great guide. With his brother-in-arms, the slender Fat Sal(real name Pat “I’m only fat in my mind” Alexander), Oz has turned Thursday night at Jilly’s into one of the most beloved dance parties in the city. It’s a favorite among hipsters, art students, ex-hippies, preps, jocks and just about anybody who enjoys grooving to mixes of obscure soul and disco — stuff that was never on the radio but has survived as a fetish of ’70s-worshipping DJs and vinyl collectors.
“I grew up as a jazzhead,” Oz said, “I really dug soul-jazz stuff like Coltrane and Bitches Brew. Once I finally heard the sampling of jazz in hip-hop, like with Digable Planets and Tribe Called Quest, a light bulb flickered.”
These very genres are what Hobley’s specializes in, along with blues, reggae and rock, plus vintage stereo equipment, old copies of Jet and Ebony, posters, videos, Beatles and Elvis memorabilia, books, CDs (though not many) and all kinds of wonderful African-Americana. Example: a February 1969 issue of Chicago’s black newspaper, the Daily Defender, sits on the counter in a protective sleeve. “Noted Newsman Predicts: U.S. to Destroy Black Panthers,” reads the dire headline.
Oz knows the place because its owner, Dolores Hobley, now 64, used to have a booth called Collector’s World in the Waldo Antique Center. She moved to the mall a year ago and plunged into online retail. Recently, Hobley put her entire stock up for auction on eBay, but it didn’t sell. (When Oz and I visited, though, she was preparing to ship 10,000 records to two different out-of-town buyers.)……

……Later that night, at Jilly’s, Oz and Fat Sal swapped slabs of vinyl on and off their decks, dropping the needle on just the right groove, mixing, chopping and rotating records in and out from their endless supply. The dance floor was full of beautiful, unself-conscious women who danced like children to the relentlessly pounding, funky old music. Once in a while, they exchanged smiles with Oz and Sal, just two of many DJs in this town who have spun Dolores Hobley’s vinyl into gold.


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