It was sultry summer Friday, and music of affirmation–a joyful city sound–filled the suburban night. The Smokin’ Grooves tour and a small army of hip-hoppers, acid jazzers and chocolate hippies landed at the New World Music Theatre over the weekend in what served as a four-and-a-half-hour primer in urban music of the last three decades.
To appreciate the cultural significance of the funk, all one had to do was shimmy along with the bevy of dancers from the audience who joined George Clinton’s P-Funk All-Stars during a show-closing “Atomic Dog.” The genial emcee in the psychedelic mu-mu, rainbow braids sprouting from the top of his salt-and-pepper head like an exotic plant, Clinton floated about the stage mirthfully orchestrating chaos. Horns brayed, singers testified, bald-headed Louie rapped with comical stiltedness about the pleasures of “booty,” and another emcee intoned the gospel according to George at regular intervals: “Come fly with me, it’s hip on the Mothership.”
With Clinton, the beauty is in the mess, the never-ending groove that underlies the nonsense and the occasional inept cameo appearance by a member of his “Ben Hur”-size posse. The miracle was not that he keeps “Flashlight” lit after all these years, but that he somehow finished on time, his typical four-hour set cut three-quarters short by curfew.
The master was preceded by a handful of acts who, to varying degrees, likely would not sound the way they do without his influence. Cypress Hill rode low-rider grooves that oozed East Los Angeles menace. But the group’s bleak urban soundtracks–“Hand on the Pump,” “How I Could Just Kill a Man,” “I Ain’t Goin’ Out Like That”–were turned into celebrations by Mexican-Cuban rapper B-Real, who strutted in an outlandish Afro wig while firing rhymes in a cartoonish, nasal drawl.
On record, the group portrays the gang life as a doorway to insanity and certain death. But on stage the Hill gang–joined by B-Real’s pals in the similarly inclined hip-hop group Psycho Realm–turns on the macho bravado.
A more thoughtful stance was struck by the opening act, Philadelphia hip-hoppers the Roots. Performing with bass, drums, guitar and keyboards instead of samplers and turntables, the group rocked hip-hop classics such as Schooly D’s “PSK–What Does It Mean?” and material from the group’s two albums.
The Brand New Heavies presented sleek, ’70s-brand Philly soul but were undermined by histrionic vocalist Siedah Garrett, who unlike predecessor N’Dea Davenport doesn’t seem to understand the virtues of subtlety.
Garrett’s showboating stood in contrast to the serene incantations summoned by the regal Erykah Badu. She expanded the low-key virtues of her debut album, which is heavily indebted to the vocal inflections of Billie Holiday and Diana Ross. Badu’s low-key phrasing and wordless moans, often coaxed by three backup singers, pulled the audience into her world.
