Guarco making ‘em move at Verbal Graffiti. — Photos by Joel Myers

I walked in late, past the guy at the door who took 5 bucks from me and stamped a flower on my wrist, in through the curtain of ganja smoke that was already billowing in the main room, and squeezed through to the middle of the crowd just in time to hear grooving Latin-infused reggae band Guarco finish up one of their tunes. Everyone clapped, the snare sputtered out, the girls dancing at the front went limp and panting, and the frontman found a spot in the silence to shout out the stock “Hows y’all doin tonight?” Some pretty heartfelt “Woooos” went up. “Así me gusta,” the singer shouted back, smiling. “That’s how I like it.”

	Graffiti at Verbal Graffiti. Click for more.

The music went on. And the first thing I really noticed about this event — an art/music venue called Verbal Graffiti that’s stuffed away in a big red former schoolhouse at 330 Ellery — was that the “scene” seemed mostly off the radar of the other DIY Bushwick venues I’ve been to. It was — to put it in just a few words — more dreads and less American Apparel. Well….ok, a little less American Apparel.

The Rasta influence could be seen everywhere — from the African-influenced art on the wall, to the churning beats of the Jersey-based reggae band on stage to the rows of hardliners in the front, dancing all out in a blur of hair and hips and elbows. They even had Red Stripe beer — Jamaica’s finest — for a four dollar donation at the bar.

In the back room there was a kind of vintage clothing store set up in the corner where — not surprisingly — a lot of the more hipsterish types tended to congregate. The area was cozy and with just the right amount of people loitering around, not nearly as crowded as in the front space with the stage. And most appealing of all about the room, you could find that (usually elusive) spot at the party where you can actually hear the person you’re talking to. Much appreciated.

Back on stage Guarco finished their set and a guy who calls himself D.O.V., also one of the directors of the space, stepped up and started in on a hip-hop set. The act — backed up by the laptop-wielding DJ Wave — had some good energy going on, and there was a decent crew up in front jamming out to the beats. The group’s samples were actually surprisingly decent, though the lyrics never really got up to the level of hard-hitting drama they seemed to be going for. (The group’s apparent standout track “Chicken Noodle Soup” is a good example.) The whole presentation seemed a little dated in general — the group mostly trying to pull off what A Tribe Called Quest had been doing over 15 years ago — but the pair really went after it with a lot of energy and a substantial stage presence, and have definite potential to develop as they write new tracks.

After the set was over the party started dragging a bit. Most of the people in the back (myself included) started peeling off and heading out, except for all the dolled-up singles eyeing each other from across the room, still waiting for something to happen. And that one guy, baked out of his mind, running around and getting all up in everyone’s faces, making one girl at a time feel hugely uncomfortable by asking her to dance.

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