Bass For Your Face, Highs For Your Eyes: The Roots Jam, Highline Ballroom, NYC, 3.19.09

There are many angles to take when it comes to the Roots' new job as house band for Late Night with Jimmy Fallon. I choose ambivalence, personally. I think Fallon lacks charisma or a compelling sense of humor, to say nothing of his interview skills. I think the band's talents as a house band are unmatched among bands working today--they're the tightest and most versatile around--but they'd be put to better use elsewhere. That being said, this is a band that's been on tour almost nonstop for over a decade, during which they find time to record studio albums that push the genre forward even though they get pretty much zero credit from said genre, not to mention radio. On top of that are staggering side projects, and when they do make it to your town, they always bring their A game, whether it's in Illadel or Amherst, MA. So yeah, they deserve this "break," which requires scare quotes because it's actually a full time job. I'm sure it gives them more time to write, record, produce, whatever it is the guys want to do, and that's great.

From a provincial standpoint, I had a hunch it meant a lot more chances to see the band play live in their new hometown (I guess they take the bus in from the 215 to 30 Rock each day, but still). That hunch was more than confirmed by the 14 (FOURTEEN!) shows the band scheduled at the Highline Ballroom (where for art thou, Wetlands) between March and June. Last night was the second of these shows, and it was truly a jam.

These shows are not your typical Roots show. For one thing, tickets are an incredibly cheap $10. $12.50 after fees. That's on par with going to the movies in New York, so take your pick. On top of that, the venue's relatively tiny. And while the Roots have been shoved in the Jam Band pigeonhole with increasing regularity, their shows are always set listed and tightly composed, even as the band melts face with their solos. Not so at these meandering sets that seem to be headed anywhere and everywhere.

The Jams are exactly what they sound like: the Roots are not playing their hits, or even lesser known album tracks. They're jamming. Maybe they're working on new material, trying it out for a crowd, or maybe they're just having fun. They're bringing out their friends, and they're creating organic experiences that go wherever the musicians want. Two weeks ago, at the first of these Jams, we were treated to guest emcees Talib Kweli, Pharoahe Monch, Dice Raw (I think he's an honorary member at this point), and John Forte, as well as neo-soul cats Chrisette Michelle and Raheem DeVaughn.

This week's show, however, had much less freestyling and a lot more straight up jams, with a ton of vocal performances to make us stand up and take notice. Fellow Soulquarian Bilal came out, and sounded even better live than he does on record. For a blast from the past, we had Corey Glover of Living Colour fame. The band's lineup has been stripped down, with no appearances from percussionist Knuckles or keyboardist Kamal, which is easier to take as studio wizard James Poyser has been sitting in on keys. Last night the group was also joined for a number of songs by members of Afrobeat powerhouse Antibalas. But all of these guests were overshadowed by old timer Dee Dee Bridgewater, who showed the young'ns how a real soul singer performs: she held the audience's rapt attention the whole time she was on stage, departing with the kiss off line "see, grandma can get down too." We also saw all too brief freestyles from Dice Raw, back for more, and DC emcee/Mark Ronson collaborator Wale. The band ended things with an exceedingly long but never boring version of their classic "You Got Me," which drifted into a particularly fun downbeat ska sound and then back to the classic until it deteriorated at the set's end. All I have to say is, there's twelve more of these shows coming up, who knows how many special guests, and tickets are still on sale. Get to it.

When Did You Stop Loving Me, When Did I Stop Loving You: The Anthony Hamilton Edition

So idolator picked up on Southern soul man Anthony Hamilton's new (kinda) single "Cool" today. The post is entitled "Anthony Hamilton, R&B's Tough-Luck Story" and bemoans the fact that he gets the music industry's back burner when it comes to video rotation (besides Vh1 Soul and mtvU) and airplay outside of urban stations. The tone is all, he's so great, he has gold and platinum albums and his new video clip is so "charming" so why does he get snubbed when it comes to exposure on mainstream video channels? Well, Dan Gibson of idolator is right; the video for "Cool" is charming and should get more attention. And yes, Hamilton is good. But good shouldn't mean boring. And that's what Hamilton is slowly becoming. Very. Boring. And it hurts me to say that, because his voice is so amazing. He has always been a vocal throwback (in a good way), to Al Green and Otis Redding: his voice drips with feeling and grit. He's great live too. But the best part of an Anthony Hamilton song should never ever ever be a David Banner (yes, that David Banner) rap. 

The song is all about love providing everything this couple needs and the video follows suit: they have no milk for their coffee, their TV breaks, their car overheats and Anthony gets hit by lightning while fixing it (with the assistance of Mr. Banner, who drops the hilarious line: "we can call our white friends up and drink our Miller Genuine Draft/then kick 'em all out of the house, take us a bath") but through it all they laugh and shake it off because they have each other. Sweet sentiment and all, but sonically, the bouncy banjo hydraulics are way played and it is so repetitive, I feel like I'm listening to a snippet on loop. It sounds like a Nappy Roots song from like, 5 years ago. This bums me out. When did Anthony Hamilton become so derivative? His 2003 album Comin' From Where I'm From is so beautiful and textured with his gravelly and gut wrenching vocals ("Charlene" makes me cry, "Float" makes me wanna take my pants off and the James Poyser co-written "Cornbread, Fish & Collard Greens" is one of my all time favorite tunes) and every single song sounds rich and layered with Muscle Shoals like complexities. His 2005 "sophomore" effort (he's had a few compilations, a barely recognized 1996 debut and some re-releases too) Ain't Nobody Worryin' isn't my favorite but it had solid production from the likes of Raphael Saadiq, ?uestlove and James Poyser and garnered major critical acclaim. But if this single is indicative of the rest of his upcoming The Point of it All (which is slated to drop this December, after being pushed from it's original summer release), I'm even more concerned about him than I was when he sang the chorus on Nick Cannon's plea to save the babies. And Dan is right again, Hamilton has been around for a minute and deserves a great amount of success (fun fact: he sang back up for D'Angelo during the Voodoo tour) but I'm not rooting for this "tough-luck" story until the new album drops. Oh, and your contribution to the Soul Men soundtrack is NOT helping. Hamilton, you're on notice. 

Anthony Hamilton, R&B's Tough-Luck Story [idolator]

I'm Still In Love With You.

While it's too early to actually start believing that D'Angelo's new album is dropping this fall (readthisexcellentSpinpieceRIGHTNOW), it is definitely not too early to deem certain artists' efforts as the Best of 2008...so far. And unless you don't have a heart or working hammers, anvils and stirrups, then you know that the Rev. Al Green's Lay It Down is quite possibly the greatest "classic" soul album to emerge since well, the initial Soulquarian movement that spawned Voodoo. And that isn't surprising, considering ?uestlove was at the producer helm for both.

At least three years in the making, Green's "real" comeback hadn't really been executed to perfection until this Ahmir Thompson and James Poyser dream project came to fruition at Electric Lady: Dap-King horns, Anthony Hamilton, Corinne Bailey Rae, John Legend (even his black Liberace schtick can't taint his contribution on the lovely and twinkling duet "Stay With Me (By the Sea)"), Jaguar Wright and of course, the late and great Chalmers "Spanky" Alford flesh out what already was a promising and titillating concept: take the Rick Rubin/Jack White M.O. (retooling an icon's sound ever so slightly with the benefit of younger producers/younger working musicians aesthetics, while expanding on what made said icon so great in the first place, also known as not fucking with an already good thing and trying to make a legend play catch up with the Top 40 club) and apply it to the last working living soul legend. It had been ?uest's dream to do so (and he has previously turned down Stevie Wonder, citing too much pressure and personal anxiety over that hypothetical project) and he knew he could do it. It was just a matter of making Blue Note realize that they had dropped the ball, and kindly asking Willie Mitchell to stand back and let the youngsters take the reins.

The resulting sessions unfolded the same way the famed Voodoo recording sessions did: no pressure, a slow layering process, and a heavy editing hand. If a song worked, they came back to it a few months later just to make sure it still smacked of epicness. Jam sessions, writing while rehearsing, and of course, simplicity paved the way for the album I personally have been waiting for since I was a little kid. I grew up on Al and the other soul and R&B greats, but I grew up on what my mother and her generation experienced first hand. I could and did listen to Let's Stay Together a million times, but even as a child couldn't help but think, if he's still alive, why isn't he making music like this anymore? And despite his gospel era, the truth was, he wasn't making music like he did at Hi Records thirty years ago. He could, but he wasn't. And part of that is the unfortunate fate many of our Hall of Famers face: act like you're still 20 years-old to appeal to the 20 year-old set, or else you are a relic, or at best, starring in an awkward Victoria's Secret commercial.

Lay It Down combines the lush strings of Green's Memphis days with the sharp and full horns of his '70s reign (courtesy of the Dap-Kings), and lucky for us and Green, his voice has not changed one octave since he first started. Every single moan, squeal and emotive vocal arpeggio is there, matched by the basic organ styling of Poyser, crisp and simple drums of Thompson and the lilting and gorgeous guitar riffs of Alford. This record is Green's first Top 10 album since 1973. It is the most organic and natural sounding execution he has attempted since his beautiful and raw "farewell" to the secular world, 1977's The Belle Album. It is without any doubt, any hype, any bullshit, an immediate classic.