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On July 10th, 2003 I went to the Bluesfest at Ottawa’s city hall and witnessed a splendid pile of music, though it didn’t all go down as planned.
If I bothered to do the proper research I could probably determine whether or not this was the first time I saw the classic disco/R&B outfit Kool & the Gang, but I was excited enough to see them that I suspect it was. The Bluesfest was just finding it’s legs back then so having an act like Kool and his Gang on the bill was still pretty impressive.
I stayed for about six minutes.
Not that they were horrible or anything, but they sure weren’t worth writing home about, and here I am writing to you, and where are you? Exactly. Fortunately, I got out of there.
I say “fortunately” because my main stage exodus led me around the corner to the Black Sheep Stage where Hawksley Workman was just starting his set. Again, with enough digging I might be able to confirm whether or not this was my first Hawksley Workman experience too but I’d probably have to dig pretty deep. I’m pretty sure that my first Hawksley show was either this one or the time I saw him play for free in the jagged, overgrown courtyard outside of the National Gallery, a show that I suspect was sparsely advertised, the date of which would likely be tough to nail down.
Regardless, I was quite taken with Mr. Workman from the get-go, and why wouldn’t I be? Though I had long bristled at the “show” part of showmanship, being human I was and remain quite susceptible to a grand spectacle, especially when it is wrapped up in good music. And this young upstart had “spectacle” emanating from his very pores, and the music behind it all was fresh and thick; every number was epic.
After his set I could hear the eighth-note disco thumping of the Gang rebounding around the corner so I trekked back to the main stage and caught a 1-2 punch of disco gold in Jungle Boogie and Ladies Night (man, I remember roller skating to Ladies Night on Saturday afternoons at Skate Country in Moncton where I spent the whole time terrified I would fall down in front of the girls that I was terrified to talk to…it’s wonderful how nostalgia really butters up trauma). But to be honest, I preferred waiting at the Black Sheep stage for Spearhead to start over watching more Gang (spoiled music consumer that I am), so that’s what I did.
Spearhead was drop-dead amazing. Err…make that “jump-up” amazing. I hadn’t leaped up and down like that since the last time I saw Spearhead when they played at a nightclub on Bank Street called Babylon. But out there behind city hall we weren’t constricted by Babylon’s low ceiling and Michael Franti used that to his advantage, inspiring the giddy crowd to jump halfway to the moon in hip-hop delight. He had us all eating out of his hand; we were compelled to obey like so many Medieval townfolk overtaken with dancing disease. It was thumping, it was relentless, it was joyful, it was angsty…Come to think of it, I bet Michael Franti roller skated to a fair amount of Kool & the Gang when he was a kid too.
When I set out earlier in the day I expected to be sweaty and smiling when the night ended and sweaty and smiling I was. I just figured that Kool & the Gang would have been a more direct player, but nope. Good old live music, always full of surprises.
Todd Man Out 