‘It’s like paying homage to your city’: How a local hip-hop sound got Miami to dance again

Ka’Niyah Bostic was just a kid when she first saw somebody jook.

The memory, however, burns bright to this very day: the shoulders, the head nods, the footwork.

“We was at a family gathering and I was like 5, 6 years old,” said Bostic, a 20-year-old dancer and choreographer from Naranja. Grind Mode’s “Xtascy Floating” was playing and five of her uncles began to hit a dance that captivated her from the very beginning. “I used to be so afraid to dance in front of my uncles because they’re very firm and strict and they don’t play that. But they started doing that jooking and that footwork and I was like ‘Oh, I like that. What is that?’ I was so intrigued.”

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Jook music has been one of the dominant sounds in Miami since the movement’s heyday between 2007-2009. Influenced by the bass music of the ‘80s, jook is characterized by its uptempo, melodic sound and high beats per minute. The dance itself, often referred to as jooking, is a Southern two-step of sorts – not to be confused with sticking which emerged at the same time and was popularized by Desloc Piccalo as well as Sam Sneak. With Friday culminating the 50th anniversary of hip-hop, it’s important to acknowledge how a little party thrown at 1520 Sedgwick Avenue in the Bronx created a culture — anchored by break dancing, graffiti, DJing and MCing — that eventually spread across the globe.

“Jooking would be the equivalent to what break dancing is to a hip-hop head from the ‘80s,” said McKlezie. Born Andre Wallace, the North Dade native is one-third of the famed group Grind Mode. “The boom bap allows you to move a certain way. Being that our bpms are a little bit higher, you have to move faster.”

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Although the music mainly found its audience in South Florida, the hip-hop subgenre – which boasts favorites ranging from Grind Mode’s “I’m So High” to Ball Greezy’s “Shone” to Bizzle’s “Lip Biting Animal” to DJ Chipman’s “Beam Ahh” – continues to be a mainstay at functions from Homestead to Palm Beach.

“I can’t think of a party in South Florida” where you won’t hear it, said Jeanie Joseph, a Broward native and creator of the Thank You, a weekly party held at Red Rooster’s Pool Hall. “I feel like a true Florida DJ, being the fact that here at Thank You we have a Florida DJ, it’s almost in your repertoire to do it. And it’s like paying homage to your city.”

That Bostic can remember the fine details of her first time seeing people jooking at a party is not unique, says producer Tony Castillo, better known as Gorilla Tek. A pioneer of the jook sound, Castillo specifically sampled drums and chords from the R&B and soul records of his youth to make the music more “memorable.”

“I infused some of the old classics that everybody loved and partied to when they were having the block parties to bass music and that kind of took a life of its own,” said Castillo, who produced records like “Shone” and “I’m So High.” He never really wanted to make music that talked about the harsh realities of being in the streets — he just wanted people to dance. “If music don’t make you want to dance, what’s the point?”

While dancing has always been important to Miami culture thanks to its large Caribbean and Latin population, jook arose when the 305’s hip-hop scene hinged more on hood tales, save for Trina. Bass music was a decade plus removed from its golden era. Rick Ross had the streets on fire with “Hustlin’.” Trick Daddy had proudly proclaimed he was a thug. And DJ Khaled had everyone screaming “I’m So Hood.”

“It was a lot of tough music and a lot of rough” sounds, said Jeremy Hannah, who goes by Chaos. He, along with McKlezie and Hunger make up Grind Mode. “We told people it’s alright to smile and laugh. Don’t play with us now, we from Miami. But, it’s alright to have a good time.”

The exact origin of the dance itself is hard to trace but, according to the members of Grind Mode, it first emerged in South Dade. Although Tampa and other Florida cities had their own version of jooking, Chaos and Mcklezie were quick to point out the difference.

“When I heard Tampa jook, it’s closer to 89 to 100 bpms,” said Mcklezie, adding that he still struggles to hit the Tampa jook. “It’s kind of a lazy move. But in Miami, it’s more uptempo between 120 to 135 bpms.”

Like many aspects of Miami culture, drugs — in this case, Ecstasy specifically — initially influenced the dance.

“It was in an ecstasy era when people were popping pills and doing a lot of drugs,” Chaos quipped. “So I would go to a lot of late night clubs and after hours and just to see somebody tweaking, they got they tongue, out and then it would turn into battles.”

Added Mcklezie: “That’s why everything is uptempo: everyone was on drugs.”

What jook music architects like Grind Mode, Ball Greezy and Gorilla Tek did was inspire Miami to dance again.

Jook “is a big part of the legacy down here because dance has always been part of the streets in Miami,” said Hunger, whose name is Yvan Benony. “Any music that highlights dance or any part of dance culture is a huge part of the sound of Miami.”

That many DJs still devote a portion of their set to jook more than 15 years after its boom only shows Miami’s connection to the music. What stands out to 103.5 The Beat’s Papa Keith is the communal feel of jook music.

“Think about the college sororities and think about the fraternities and how they do their steps,” said Papa Keith, a mainstay of Miami’s hip-hop radio scene for more than two decades. “It brings people together.”

In other words, it’s a point of pride for Miamians. A way to let the entire world know where you’re from. Sure, there might be others that try to imitate – Drake hopped on the wave for 2017’s “To The Max” – yet that only proves how infectious the sound is, something Bostic believes will never end.

“It’s within us,” Bostic said. “It’s in our body. It’s in our blood stream. It’s Miami. It’s Dade.”