A Tale of Two Ditties

As has often occurred in my many years of appreciating a diverse range of musical genres, I sensed last night, as I looked around the sparse, seated crowd gathered to see the Dixie Hummingbirds at Great American Music Hall, that I was almost certainly the only one who had been to, or even considered going to, the Kool Keith show at Mezzanine the night before.

Granted it was a Sunday, but this here was an early-evening crowd. Dinner at 5:30, a drink or two, take in a show, and be home and in bed before 11. They wouldn't have cottoned to the previous night's schedule. Not many people would, which brings me to one of the the central problems with rap shows.

My friend Paul out at the beach has a pet peeve when it comes to live music. He doesn't like to be misled about when the show is going to start. An all-too-common problem at rock shows, it's taken to a whole new level by the rap community.

When I arrived at the Mezzanine at 11 pm, admittedly already a bit tired, the act on stage was already riling the crowd with promises that Kool Keith would soon be taking the stage. Their last words to the crowd suggested that he would be next up. Another act, a 'special guest' and a couple of upstart 'friends' who must have been owed favors later, and it was 10 minutes of 1 am, and no sign of 'The Black Elvis'. He finally took the stage at 12:55 after several of the aforementioned guests and friends made the crowd jump through a series of hoops -- chants, hand waving, cheers -- so many, in fact, that you'd think that James Brown was appearing next on a double bill with Jesus. Some in the crowd had grown restless enough by this point to either leave or shout epithets at the calvalcade of pseudocelebrities parading across the stage.

In contrast, when I arrived 15 minutes after the scheduled start time for the Dixie Hummingbirds/Emmitt Powell and the Gospel Elites show on Sunday, the opening act had been on for -- who could have guessed -- 15 minutes. As Paul might have remarked, it was an oasis of civilization in the vast desert of artists' contempt for fans.

Why should the paying fans be compelled to work harder than the musicians? Why should they have to beg them to get their ass out of the backstage area, their noses out of the food spread -- or whatever else someone might have their nose in backstage -- and go out and do what the crowd is paying to see them do? Why must the crowd endure an unscheduled amateur hour of all the artist's friends, relatives, creditors, bookies or whoever else can strongarm him into five minutes with the mic?

The sad part is, the Kool Keith show, while not sold out, was pretty full and drew an energetic, young crowd. Don't get me wrong, he put on a pretty good show when he finally took the stage. But the Dixie Hummingbirds absolutely killed -- delivering one of the most rewarding and memorable shows of the year to a significantly older crowd numbering in the dozens. My friend at the beach and I were reminded of a Solomon Burke performance a few years back, also at the Great American, that drew about the same number. Two of the better performances I've seen in San Francisco, both completely escaping the imagination of the youth. We were among the probably ten or fifteen people under 50 that attended the show that were not wearing a Great American Music Hall Staff t-shirt. That's just a plain shame for all those youngsters who missed it.

You can read a great account of the show here. And next time you see a gospel or soul show advertised at Great American, do yourself a favor, don't miss it.