Don't Feel Right: The Roots Picnic, Festival Pier, Philadelphia, 6.6.09

So, remember when Isabelle interviewed ?uestlove for the Weekly Dig in January and asked him about the status of a then-unannounced 2nd annual Roots Picnic in Philly? We posted the interview here on the site, too. ?uesto told Isabelle that this year was going to be a two-day affair, among other tentative plans:

ID: Are you guys going to do another Roots Picnic this summer? I went to the first one.
?: Yes, we are. And this time I promise it's gonna be an actual picnic. We're new at this festival-throwing thing, so we forgot to figure in fatigue of the audience and how to protect them from the sun.

Well, a few months later the official announcement came: the second Picnic was going to be a one day festival again (fine by me, as I day tripped from NYC) featuring a lineup that was as amazing as ?uest alluded to. Antibalas, TV on the Radio, Black Keys, Santigold and the centerpiece of the lineup, Public Enemy playing the entirety of It Takes A Nation Of Millions To Hold Us Back, backed by not only the Roots but Antibalas as well.

Before I tell you how the performances were, I have a bone to pick. Festival Pier is a terrible, terrible venue. It's more of a concrete parking lot than a pier. The drinks are overpriced and the food is terrible. I will admit that all of this so far is par for the course when it comes to outdoor shows. Sad but true. That, I can get over. But you're gonna put thousands of people in the hot sun all day with no water fountain or cooler or anything? Last year, the weather was way worse--95 degrees and no cloud cover, as I recall. Maybe that's why they set up water coolers for everyone to stay hydrated. This year was much cooler and partly cloudy, so maybe we just didn't deserve complimentary water? Maybe I'm old fashioned or naive, but I believe that if you have a ten hour music festival you need to look after the crowd, especially when most of them paid upwards of $60 to attend. Adding insult to injury, security made me dump out my water on the way in ("For all we know, you have vodka in that bottle") and told me I could fill it up at the water fountain inside. The nonexistent water fountain. It must be the one that appears once you start hallucinating from lack of fluids. This was beyond an inconvenience; it was a risk to everyone's health, and basically felt like a huge 'fuck you' from the venue and the promoters. Of course, water was for sale at $3.50 a bottle, if you could afford it. Judging from the number of people I saw pass out (I counted five in my immediate vicinity) not everybody could swing that. People were dropping like flies all due to the negligence of those in charge. I'm not sure whose fault this was--Live Nation, Penn's Landing, the Roots, Okayplayer, or some other party all of whom I'm sure would just blame the other for the problems and call it a day--but it was severely disappointing. In my decade long career of concert going, I have never felt so abused and mistreated, which is saying quite a lot, since this is an industry that generally tries to do just that to its customers whenever possible. Perhaps worst of all, it made ?uestlove's words on this very blog feel fake.

So how was the music? It was phenomenal. The Roots always bring their A-game, and Antibalas' set was one of the most dynamic, sonically satisfying sets of my concert going career. Black Keys were a welcome break, bringing their stripped down blues licks to a crowd that seemed mostly disinterested. Their loss. Santigold, who bailed on the first Roots Picnic at the last minute, played a passable set marred by terrible sound (bass and voice turned to 11, drums buried in the mix) but hey, her backup dancers were pretty cool. Too bad she didn't show up last year, when I still cared. Busdriver played a great set, but as one of the only traditional emcee-and-a-DJ hip hop sets of the day didn't really stand up to a lot of the live instrumentation that was going on. Fun to watch for sure, though. TV on the Radio's set was hot like fire, with the Antibalas horns backing them up. It seemed like TVOTR were sort of the symbol of the day--a band encompassing rock, hip hop, soul, blues, and world music all in one place. You know, like Santigold thinks she does, only successful. The last act of the night was the Roots, who of course rocked the house (25 minute version of "You Got Me," anyone?), although I would have liked to see them play a longer, more wide-ranging set like they did at the 2008 Picnic. To be fair, the show was supposed to be over by the time they took the stage, so maybe they were pressed for time.

As expected, the highlight of the day was the Public Enemy/Roots/Antibalas set. It Takes a Nation... is one of the most dark, dense, difficult albums in the history of hip hop and watching these musicians breathe all of this life into the work was nothing short of a revelation. This performance actually exceeded my greatest expectation for it. The Second Annual Roots Picnic was a fantastic day of music, marred by conditions that had me fantasizing on a Woodstock '99 style uprising.

Please guys, next year, can we do this somewhere else?

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.

Sound Clash: The Roots vs. Antibalas, the Roxy, Boston, 1.29.09

Sponsored by Redbull and hosted by Boston MC Akrobatik, this event was a musical clash of the titans: in one corner (or stage, rather), Philly's finest, the legendary Roots crew. Hardest working band in show business, twenty years strong, and by far and wide the best live showmen I have ever witnessed. In the second corner, Brooklyn's own United Colors of Afro-funk, Antibalas. The house band for the musical Fela!, the closest thing to Africa '70 possible, and in Questlove's words, the most "airtight" collective going (I'm almost positive this whole show was his idea too).

Boston's Roxy is relatively tiny, so even though it was sold out and packed, the actual crowd space was intimate. Sandwiched between each band's stage, the crowd whipped around every round to give their full attention to the spotlighted contestants. First was the warm up, fifteen minutes of breakneck jamming: the Roots threw down "Thought @ Work," "Here I Come" and "Game Theory." (As soon as they filed out, I noticed a special guest, though he went unannounced the whole night; holding down the organ front was Randy Watson-er James Poyser, legendary key man behind Al Green's latest, D'Angelo, Erykah, Common and every other Soulquarian production out there.) Then, it was Antibalas' turn: 12 members deep, vocalist/conga man Amayo's face painted and horns blasting. (This was the first time I had seen Antibalas play, and I could not have been more pleased. Cuban, West African, funk, dub, jazz...it's all there, and then some.)

The first round was the "Cover", where the night's DJ threw out a tune and each band had to copy it in their relative style. The theme was TV shows, and it kicked off with a nod to Boston; "Cheers." Then came "The Jeffersons" and "Night Rider" (and I hate to spoil any of this for anyone, but I will just say it early on, none of this was a surprise for either band, I saw the very detailed set list, but who gives a shit, this show ruled and still was filled with improvisation). Then came round two, the "Takeover": each band started their own tune, and the other had to finish it to the best of their musical genre's ability. The Roots gave Antibalas "Star/Response," and Antibalas threw back "Payback Africa," before Black Thought went into his excellent "solo" joint "Please Don't Go." Third round was the "Clash", and the house DJ gave each band a genre they technically are not associated with (although both bands blend and defy genre at all times, incorporating elements from each of these): reggae, jazz and gospel (Poyser killed on the last, his organ is straight up Southern Baptist). The last round was the "Joker", the wild card, where each band brought on a guest of their choosing (and this was where I thought they would acknowledge Poyser's presence to the crowd) and Antibalas brought out Philly's DJ Rich Medina for some spoken word, and the Roots brought out saxophonist Gary Bartz to help out on their show closing "You Got Me" operetta.

The icing on the already epic cake was the finale, where both bands got on one stage (it was some Earth, Wind and Fire shit) and one of Antibalas' guitarists threw down a mean version of Michael McDonald's "What a Fool Believes" as Black Thought laughed and joined in (this is also where Tuba Gooding Jr. picked up Thought's denim jacket and started fanning him with it, James Brown style, and cloaked him with it like a cape), the whole crowd creaming in their yacht rock pants.

Was there a winner? No. Was it the best show I've seen in recent memory? Yes. Are you jealous? You should be.

Year End Lists: Friends of P

A couple picks that even we didn't see coming on today's post. Let us know how you feel in the comments.

Ben's pick:

2. Cloud Cult - Feel Good Ghosts (Tea-Partying Through Tornadoes)
Their last two albums were phenomenal experiences to immerse yourself in, but they were a bit overlong and somewhat all over the place. Feel Good Ghosts, however, is the most concise and complete album of their career, the first one that's completely solid from start to finish. I've said this here before, but Cloud Cult is the kind of band that I should hate: they're environmentally conscious, they live together on a farm in Minnesota, they have two full-time live painters in the band, and their music is so sincerely honest and confessional that it can make listeners feel downright uncomfortable (okay, I do like that last part). But the bottom line is that the stories and characters that Craig Minowa conjures in this set of songs are some of the most fascinating in recent years. "The Story of the Grandson of Jesus" tells the story of a proselytizer who serves "communion of Cola and Twinkies, guess everyone has their own view," while "Journey of the Featherless" is a tale of a narrator who dreams of flying to heaven with paper wings, only to undergo a mysterious transformation. Weird? Yes, but this is one of Cloud Cult's greatest strengths.

Isabelle's pick:

2. The Roots - Rising Down
Every single Roots album loses and gains new fans, and that's because they never make the same album twice. This one is the "Blade Runner" record, as ?uestlove has described it: dark, futuristic, grimy, synthed out and slick. Kamal traded in his standard Fender Rhodes and Tuba Gooding Jr. once again proved that the sousaphone is not just for marching bands-it can be down right chill inducing. I love this album for several reasons. First of all, the aggression and emotional darkness is electrifying. Secondly, as is the case with EVERY Roots' show, the organic deconstruction that each song takes on live is like listening to a whole new song, and those subtle nuances are what it's all about. And thirdly, this album introduces us to new bass man Owen Biddle, who definitely can hang. Jimmy Fallon, I hope you know how lucky you are.

You Got Me.

Alright. I wasn't even going to do a post about this but...

Everyone from Gawker to stereogum are blogging furiously about Thursday's rather shocking announcement that the Roots are going to retire (Forever? Forever ever? The band is staying mum for now.) from touring to be the house band for Jimmy Fallon when he takes over Conan's seat in 2009. The news was broken via a video interview (that has since been pulled, as well as the okayplayer update about the band's decision) during the Philly outfit's Chicago pit stop last week. And while everyone who has access to the internets has been commenting about this blow to the live music scene, what naysayers, haters, Debbie Downers and trick ass marks forget is this:

The Roots tour non fucking stop. Almost 350 days a year or something outrageous like that. I saw them twice in a two and a half week span. That's nuts. Sure, they love playing live and love playing music with each other, even after twenty years. But guess what? Touring blows. Hard. And these are grown ass men. With families, significant others, friends, homes, side projects and real lives (longtime bassist Hub left the group last year to pursue a film scoring career and to spend more time with his family). They have been on the grind for two decades now, and are just starting to get the mainstream respect they deserve. So they want a steady gig, a place to hang their ridiculously talented hats. So what. So fucking what. Who cares that Jimmy Fallon is a dick cheese? I don't. Good for them. Seriously and completely. Not only will this make me want to watch late night TV again, but it will raise the house band bar (also, I do want to see Fallon trade riffs with ?uestlove. He's no La Bamba.). If they had the chance to do a Celine Dion style Vegas run I would hope they would take it too. These dudes deserve all the opportunities in the world. They deserve stability and financial security. The right to do something different. And hello, they said retire from touring, not retire from music making. So quit hating. Musicians are real people. They're not your friends. You can be sad about their choices, but you have no right to be angry. They aren't promoting child molestation or anything. So shut up.

And for those of you who haven't had the honor and privilege of seeing this legendary group live, that's your own fault. You blew it. Kill yourself now, because live music does not get any better. You had your chance. In fact, you had plenty of them. I've seen them 19 times and I'm only 22.

Besides, musicians change their minds all the time. And if you're that bummed, fly to fucking Europe and be one of the lucky few at their last tour.

The Roots To Be Jimmy Fallon's Band; We Are Old And Sad [Gawker]

The Roots + Cee-Lo, The Vic, Chicago, 11.13.08

Quite possibly one of the most fun Roots shows that I have ever attended (and that's saying a lot since this was show 19 for me.), the Miller Genuine Draft "Genuine Flow" show at the Vic was, despite the MGD name drops every 6 minutes (which none of the artists could take seriously, case in point, Cee-Lo must have been reminded back stage to name drop the beer and since he could give less of a fuck, told us that "my voice is scratchy. I need something cold, something refreshing. I need...a Miller Genuine Draft" and then burst into laughter with Black Thought) all about genuine musicianship and genuine camaraderie. DJ 33 1/3 kept the mostly older and black crowd (which was very refreshing to see, a Roots show that wasn't all bros) excited by playing what everyone wanted to hear: De la Soul, A Tribe Called Quest, ODB and straight up classics. WGCI's Tony Sculfield played MC and after his tired jokes about weed smoking and how Obama is going to have a DJ spinning at his State of the Union address (you, know, cause he's black. Get it?), the legendary Roots crew took the stage around nine, filing out in processional fashion, ?uestlove wearing a kuffiyeh like a hipster and Black Thought wearing a Cosby sweater looking blazer, and kicked off a nearly two and a half hour set in which goof ups, laughs, inside jokes, two-stepping and the soul machine Cee-Lo Green would all be a part of.

Their set was very similar to the set I saw at the Congress a few weeks back, but the beauty of the Roots, and one of the many reasons that I consider them to be my favorite band and favorite live act, is that no two shows are the same, regardless of set lists and current tricks they have up their sleeves. The subtle nuances, the tempos, the riffs, the solos, the impromptu joints, all change in various degrees, and the organic nature of their show always feels real. So, when "string assassin" Captain Kirk took over for his standard "You Got Me" operetta, he not only turned his scatting into "Sweet Child O' Mine," as he had done at the last show I saw, but he threw in a very Ike Turner move: sexualizing his strings and turning their high pitched moans and sighs into "Love to Love You Baby," which he sang beautifully, because his falsetto is terrifyingly woman like. ?uestlove missed his vocal cue during the Fela tribute, and Black Thought just started laughing at him, which made the whole band laugh at him, and the genuine bro love they all have for one another was beyond endearing. Last night, more than ever, was evidence of the fact that these guys play together every single night, but still love doing it, and still love each other.

Midway through the set, Cee-Lo emerged with his very unnecessary hype man, looking more like a regal Buddha than ever (he was not wearing the outfit shown above, unfortunately). The Roots backed his set, which included "I'll Be Around," an amazing reggae tinged slow burner version of "Crazy," that had everybody doing the dutty wine (it then morphed into a quite excellent cover of "Seven Nation Army" before going back to it's dance hall vibe) and a pretty straight ahead "Who's Gonna Save My Soul." The usually reserved Black Thought told us that "Cee-Lo is one of the few people in hip-hop I love and respect" and they recounted first meeting back in the Goodie Mob days. It was all very, "late night jam session"- just a few close friends hanging out and being fabulous - and the small atmosphere of the Vic was perfect for it. And then, my favorite part: after leaving the stage, ?uestlove urged him to come back out, and off stage we could hear his Atlanta drawl: "well, I don't wanna wear out my welcome and shit, but..." and he treated us to an epic a cappella (well, almost, Knuckles provided minimalist percussive snaps) version of the song that introduced us to Cee-Lo: OutKast's "Git Up, Git Out." He then left the stage, telling us not to spend all of our time trying to get high. Just "some of our time."

The Roots + Gym Class Heroes + Estelle, Congress Theatre, Chicago, 10.24.08

Here's my mini-review of Friday's show at the Congress Theatre in Chicago. It can also be seen on TimeOut Chicago's blog. Black Thought, please wife me.


No matter what the context, where the venue, or who they are opening or headlining for, each and every single time that I have had the privilege of seeing Philly’s finest live (Friday night’s show at the Congress Theatre being my 18th), they have delivered. And by “delivered” I don’t just mean that they sounded as good as they do on their albums, or that they had engaging stage presence, exuded flawless musicianship or improved on their recorded catalogue. By “delivered,” I mean that every time I see them, they make me understand just why it is that people make and perform music in front of a live audience in the first place. Simply put, the Roots remind me why I love live music.
Choice cuts off of their Blade Runner-esque album Rising Down (“Get Busy,” “Criminal”) were interspersed with classics from Do You Want More?!!!??! (“Proceed,” “Mellow My Man”) and Things Fall Apart (“Next Movement,” “Step into the Realm” and of course, their second most famous song, “You Got Me,” which featured the lovely Estelle, whose set I unfortunately missed, on Erykah Badu’s chorus and then it transformed into a ten minute opus at the Hendrix-like fingers of guitarist Captain Kirk, as he took over vocal duty during his face melting solo and scatted us through “Sweet Child O’ Mine” and “Who Do You Love,” before bringing us back to worrying about what club he went to with his homies) and an especially exquisite and goose bump inducing Fela Kuti tribute was performed during Rising Down’s Afrobeat inspired “I Will Not Apologize,” adding a significant amount of funk and brass (courtesy of sousaphonist and Brass Heaven alum Damon “Tuba Gooding Jr.” Bryson). As always, the J.B. like tightness of the group (which would make ?uesto either James Brown or Fred Wesley, maybe both) kept the hour and a half set rolling at a perfect pace; each song got ample and special treatment, but there were no unnecessary pauses, shout outs or unwanted insights, and the unabashed joy that this twenty-year old group has playing together could not be contained. Cholly Atkins would be damn proud of the two-step that bassist Owen Biddle, Douglas and Bryson had going on.

And oh, some group from upstate New York that Patrick Stump shit out while he was listening to a Limp Bizkit record opened.

Top left, the best picture ever taken.

You Down with O.P.P.?

Tonight was the fifth installment of Vh1’s Hip Hop Honors. Tracy Jordan a.k.a. Tracy Morgan (oh wait, it’s the other way around) hosted, and his jokes about family court and baby mamas kept Treach and company rolling in the aisles. Which was a good thing, because the Hip Hop Honors, and music induction ceremonies in general, rarely bring the funk. The hardest working band in show business, the Roots, played house band again, although combined with all the DJs on stage and the general jive turkey that is televised performances, their efforts went fairly unnoticed (which unfortunately, they are used to). This year gave nods to Cypress Hill (seriously), De la Soul, Slick Rick, Too $hort, Naughty by Nature and Isaac Hayes, whose contributions to hip-hop were vast to say the very least.

Highlights included Michael Rapaport, a.k.a. Mr. Hood Pass, introducing De la Soul and revealing that he had named his son Maseo, Vin from Naughty by Nature hollering “girl you look GOOD” to Eve while she paid homage to the Ruler, Slick Rick (he’s right though, girl is THICK) and Cee-Lo crooning “The Look of Love” as Mos Def rhymed, “who the fuck is this? Pagin’ me at 5:46 in the mornin’ crack a dawnin’…” over the Roots instrumentation. Major bummers included Kid Rock’s trashy ass paying respects to Too $hort, Flavor Flav being invited (Chris Rock is right, that fool needs to be taken OUT), Travis McCoy’s skanky mug in my face acting like he’s somebody and Wyclef Jean bringing out his guitar and strumming “No Woman, No Cry” during the Naughty by Nature finale (no wonder Lauryn went crazy). The night’s best wardrobe choice is top right. Obviously.