The meteoric rise of footwork has been well documented in recent years, but even as this once regional battle music has become a presence on international dancefloors, not all of its figures have received their proper due. RP Boo, AKA Chicago producer Kavain Space, operates largely outside of the crew-based dynamics that dominate much of the footwork world, and while that means his younger counterparts occasionally receive more shine, there’s no denying that he quite literally invented footwork with his 1997 track “Baby Come On.” Given that Space was first taught how to produce by Windy City legend and Dance Mania affiliate DJ Slugo, it’s no surprise that his productions are often raw and rooted in unorthodox sampling techniques. He simply had the foresight to bump up the tempo, establishing a new template that lit a fire under an entire generation of dancers and producers.

In 2013, UK’s Planet Mu – which has been instrumental in bringing footwork to a wider audience – put together Legacy, a full-length collecting many of the best RP Boo offerings from the previous decade. In 2015, they mined his archives once again to issue Classics Vol. 1, an EP that finally put “Baby Come On” back on wax. While these records have been widely celebrated, it’s important to note that Space isn’t content to simply be a historical footnote. He’s continued innovating, and his celebrated 2015 album Fingers, Bank Pads, And Shoe Prints is proof that even as footwork has spread around the globe, there’s still no one that sounds quite like RP Boo. In an interview with Vivian Host for RBMA Radio, Space discussed his beginnings as a DJ, the origins of footwork, and his rise from Speedway Oil Change to global footwork icon.

Chicago and the Birth of RP Boo

They called me Boo because I was the darkest grandchild in the house. My brother gave me the rest of the name. He pointed to a Technics 1200 and said, “What do we call that?” I said, “A turntable. “No, what’s the other name for it?” I said, “A record player.” He says, “RP Boo is your new name.” And I fell in love with it.

The environment in the late ’70s and early ’80s was a lot of fun. We was the teens that walked the streets, threw rocks, shot marbles, rolled tires down the street, able to enjoy Saturday mornings with cartoons, then come outside and find the vacant lot with the dirty mattresses to do flips. In between times it was good music being played on the radio, always good music, and I kept my ears open. It was a family environment. Chicago had its ups and downs, but it wasn’t visible back then. A lot of things were still behind closed doors.

The music that captured me was more R&B or funk. I remember seeing commercials with Earth, Wind and Fire and Bootsy Collins, and I always enjoyed the music, but what grasped me more was the visual, standing onstage with bell bottom pants on, trumpet in one hand, bass guitar in another hand. I envisioned myself being on that stage one day.

DJing for Beginners

On a Saturday night my uncle would come in and turn on the radio and play these uptempo tunes. It was nonstop for hours. That’s when they was like, “Oh, this is called mixing.” Every Saturday night he comes over and he turns on this radio station, WBMX. At that time, the guy that was on the radio that was real and all was Farley Jackmaster Funk. My uncle was the only person that I ever met that knew how to record onto 8-track tapes. He had loads and loads of recorded mixes. If he was down, he’d say “Pop this in, nephew, you got a mix,” and that was it. I was just hooked.

I was in high school in 1990, and the school had a party. The guy that came to DJ was a fellow classmate. He came in, and he had his 1200s. He said, “Can you help me take the equipment in to my car?” He found out I stayed a couple of blocks down from him, and he said, “If you ever want to learn how to mix, just come on down to the house and I’ll show you.”

After I got out of high school in ’91 I had a job working at a pizza joint. When I started working there I took all my money and started buying turntables. I think I bought Gemini’s but I worked them just as if they was 1200s. So when I got the 1200s the following year people thought I was a professional.

Roland R70

I was DJing for this group House-O-Matics and that’s when I met DJ Slugo. We went to his house to do a taping and he had an R70 drum machine and Gemini sampler.

I saw the R70 at the guitar seller and I purchased it, but it was the store model and everybody’s hands had been on it. I didn’t get a brand new R70, not knowing that the sounds that was in there was not the original sounds. It was sounds that was being programmed and tweaked by a lot of other producers that came in there, so that kind of helped me and I just kept the sounds. I produced what the world gave to me. No instruction manuals at all. All they gave me was an R70 and a power supply, and that was it. No box, no nothing. Put it in a plastic bag, pay 500 dollars and out the door.

When I produce I put myself in the room and basically paint it out, and as I paint it out I’m producing at the same time. You don’t want to have the same concept every time. For me, it’s still, “What I want this story to tell today? How do I see myself?” Sometimes it’s colors. I see lights. I see people having a good time. You’ve just got to have an imaginary mind. You’ve got to think outside the box. 155 is my favorite BPM because it doesn’t take away from the art of the dancer. If it’s done right, you will see the most incredible artwork in the dancer. They will just blossom. 160 is robotic to me. 160 takes away a lot of the groove, but I love 155 BPM.

Don’t get off the floor. That’s my message, to keep you on that floor. That was dealing with footwork alone. Then I started learning how to take tracks and be able to make them calm, but still be able to say, “Well, if I can’t dance, and I’m out of breath, I’ll still be able to stand by that speaker and say this is a nice track.” One of the tracks I did that with was off Legacy, “Sentimental.” I thought a lot of people wasn’t going to like that, but a lot of people actually loved it more than I loved it.

Ghetto House vs. Juke vs Footwork

’95 was the ghetto house years in Chicago. There was no juke, and a lot of people don’t understand: juke is not a form of sound. It’s just an expression, that’s all. “The party is loud, the party is hot, they juking.” I was there as it was being formed. It was ghetto house being played, same tempo, 145 to 155. It was already there. It’s just some people took the expression and said, “This is juke music,” just to change it up. But juke is nothing but ghetto house, that’s all it is.

Some groups on the West Side of Chicago used to always have dance competitions. House-O-Matics won a lot of them and were featured in the Bud Billiken Day Parade. They won so many prestige awards and dance competitions that it’s not even funny. It was time for some more people to say, “Well, what can we do to win competitions?”

Everything was being put on mix tapes using recording from off the 1200s. This dance group on the West Side of Chicago – I don’t remember their exact name – would take a regular dance style track, and if it was recorded in 33, speed it up to 45. The dancers on the West Side knew how to keep up with the tempo and after that, I think it was DJ Traxman as well as DJ Clinton that played a part.

From Chicago to the World

I used to work on cars at a Quick Lube, and DJ Rashad came past with a couple of other guys. They said it’s a label that wanted me to do music for them, and they broke it down about the royalties and the contract. I didn’t think twice. I said, “We’ve got to start from somewhere.”

After Bangs & Works Volume 2 I was offered my first deal to do an album but I held off. But Rashad broke the ice for the first album, helped open that door. I gave him a track called “Area 72,” and nobody heard it in Chicago. I hadn’t even played it over a loud PA system. Rashad played it throughout his European tour and said it was doing fairly well, then he played it on Tim and Barry’s Don’t Watch That TV, and the world caught it. It was actually a world premiere of my track being pushed from London, never before heard anywhere, and Rashad did it. That’s when Mike Paradinas said, “Can we get your first album?”

I didn’t know nothing about Planet Mu. As long as somebody was able to say, “We want to be able to put music out,” I never gave up. Why should I stop making music? Eventually something is going to happen, and something did happen. Somebody came and gave us an opportunity. That’s what Planet Mu did, just gave us an opportunity. It needs to be heard, and that’s why I tell people right now footwork is a live genre. The story of footwork and what it really means is not yet to be told because it’s still breathing. I still give Planet Mu all props and kudos to say thank you.

Speedway Oil Change and Life at Lowe’s

I worked at Speedway Oil Change and used to always stand in front of this place and dance. I used to take shop towels and cut holes and eyes to make a mouth, and do some of the craziest stuff to where the owner would be like, “Get off the corner!” One guy had seen me DJing at the Bud Billiken Day Parade but couldn’t remember my name, so he said he told his girlfriend “That’s dude off 59th street.” That’s how I got my title.

When I was working at Lowe’s I did freight and receiving. I got let go – the day it happened the manager told me I could come back in six months. I’d been working since 1991, this is 2013. I don’t know how to go without work. He said, “You can come back.” What I said next was, “I think God just heard me.” I was just finishing up work for Legacy, and I said, “You know what? I’m going to try to get me a tour within six months,” and I said it out loud.

That was in February 2013. Late April going into May, I get a phone call from J-Cush and Lit City. He said, “Why didn’t you tell me you had an album coming out?” Well, why’d I have to say something about that for? He said, “Well, we would bring you out to New York, but you’ve got a job.” Not today! I told him I was open and he asked me to come to New York two weeks from then.

Advice for Young Producers

Whatever it is that you’re trying to learn about this music, have a love for it. You’ve got to be able to pass it on and be able to look and say, “My work is not going to be going down in vain. My work is going to be successful, but somebody else is going to come behind me and is going to be ten times bigger.” You’re not going to have people that are going to stick by your side, but don’t ever give up. That’s rule number one. Never give up. Just have hope.

I was almost ready to just give up. I used to listen to the radio a lot, and everything on the radio was just garbage to me. It had no meaning. I was watching videos to see new concepts because I love to dance: nothing was there no more. I was drawn away from dance music because there was nothing being produced anymore. Rashad was like, “Man, whatever you do, don’t stop, because you motivate.”

One of the highest points for me was when I first did New York and walked across the Brooklyn Bridge. I always wanted to walk that bridge and it happened. I was told that same day, “Oh, you have a press agent.” What’s a press agent? I was just like, “How did this happen?” If I wasn’t being righteous about things, it would have never came. This just don’t happen overnight, and I thought about all the things that I have done. I looked at it from the first time I bought turntables and started DJing until the day when J-Cush from Lit City gave me the offer. It took me 21 years. I never gave up.