chamber of water

Block party.
On March 14th I filled my day with music. You would think that most days of mine are filled with music. Owning a record store and playing in 3 bands. Even working at a bar with a great jukebox. I guess that theory would be correct in some ways. Although I think I tend to let music slip through one ear and out the other most days. It’s hard to get invested in the true spiritual element of music when you’re working. It becomes more of audio wallpaper for me. Yesterday I got to truly submerse myself in two wonderful arenas. I picked up the new Ben Folds DVD. It’s a concert in Perth where it is just him on the piano and a ninety piece orchestra. The arrangements were all done by various Australian composers/arrangers/performers. Whether or not you enjoy Ben Folds music (which I ecstatically do) this is one of the most moving things around. Just the sheer girth of ninety people pushing gorgeous air at you from a Petri dish shaped stage is quite an impressive thing. There is a moment between the songs “Annie Waits” and “Brick” that floored me. There is a moaning, groaning, living sheet of animal-like sound coming from at least forty or so string players that sets a enigmatic tone. A subtle, swaying beast crawls on the floor. Amazing.


Just a handful of hours after watching that DVD I went to see Dave Chappelle’s Block Party. I was in tears at least four times during the course of the film. I have a whole new appreciation of hip hop now. I think I easily wrote it off for a long time because of my insatiable appetite for melody and simplicity. But hip hop IS melodious. And simple in its groove by nature, hip hop leaves very little to still desire. Sometimes, I think I pigeonholed many rappers as misogynists/racist power mongers. I think that is still true of many mainstream performers. In all forms of music and art. However, the fearless leaders of the true spirit of the hip hop underground paint a very different and intriguing picture.


Kanye West exudes pure passion during his performance of “Jesus Walks” (which is simply one of the most powerful songs of the last decade). Talib Kweli and the multi-talented Mos Def do their best at shaking the crowd into a frenzy. Dead Prez ignite a hardcore fire much in the same way that early Public Enemy or MDC or The Dead Kennedy’s did 20 years ago. Lauren Hill and Fugees re-unite for the first time. I once spoke with Archie Shepp about many a great jazz players. He spoke of Coltrane, Miles and several other monsters of that genre with such great ease and familiarity that it was mind blowing for me. The only person he said was feared by everyone in the genre was Billie Holiday. She exuded this presence of respect and sheer and utter once-in-a-lifetime talent. She was the only person that made everyone shake in their collective shoes when she walked in the room. You get the feeling that Lauren Hill is the Billie Holiday of our time. She just drips of something above and beyond everyone else in her field. Wyclef Jean gives an uplifting performance and speech backstage to an all black marching band from Ohio. Telling them to never blame the white man. That it is a huge copout. Urging them by slamming his hand on the table to make their lives what they want them to be and never make excuses. Demanding that they go to the public library everyday and create their own betterment. The Roots are the backing band for the whole thing and I’ll tell you, there might not be a better drummer on earth than ?estlove. Groove and feel just fall off that guys hands at all times. Dave Chappelle has a sort of manic poetry running through him. Of course he’s funny. And gimmicky. He has everything that most successful comedians have. Great timing (which he credits Thelonius Monk teaching him), a funny voice, great facial ticks and a genuine “this is a good guy” feel to him. Deeper, however, I felt a somewhat turmoil-ridden man trying to discover what it is that he is here for. I read of his recent disappearance to Africa. Cutting off ties with his Comedy Central contract. Turning the comedic world on its ear. He lives in Southern Ohio. Roams the streets of his quiet, very white rural town with a sort of general glaze of a man searching for something more. He visits children in foster homes and makes you truly feel that he’s the person he comes across as. Genuine. Sweet. I felt that if this movie was never made you would still be able to find him doing all the things he did in it. Nothing seems forced by industry pressure. His actions seem real. His interest in throwing a party for those who might never get to be a part of something of this magnitude seem completely realized and pure. Seeing what this music did to the people in attendance was extremely moving. Then it hit me. Three quarters of the way through the film. Oh my God. He’s the next Richard Pryor.


I walked out of it thinking a lot about how lucky I was. How lucky we all are. We have such great access to such great art at all times. I felt like a better person somehow. Just by spending my day with these two very different portrayals of music and their respective environments. It made me wonder what it was about music that can shape our days in such overwhelming ways. Are we just chambers of water and muscle reflecting and absorbing sound waves? Do we live on a spiritual plane that is higher than anyone can comprehend? Where sounds create golden envelopes for us to file away emotions only to be able to open them and re-live them at anytime? Is it science or God? Why did I leave with these questions in my head? Well, isn’t that the beauty of music? You just never know what it will do for/to you.