Wednesday, November 03, 2004
Before the Deluge: B3 Recap
Before I leave Cleveland and get into my post-mortem and retrospective of my trip here (which was really very nice, mostly), I stopped off someplace where I could scam some free internet access and noticed that I left old news untold - so here is a brief sum-up of the B3 Summit at the GAMH. The GAMH is SF’s oldest house of entertainment, a staid brickfaced building on a busy street in the tenderloin. I hadn’t been there since the Project Object show where so many people got disoriented and horizontal, so it was interesting to see what it looked like on Friday. The Summit was part of the SF Jazzfest, which draws a different crowd than did Estradasphere and the Zappa Allstars from Project Object - lots of hipsters in tight suits, “music buffs,” and other restrained-looking folk. The floor was taken up with tables - all reserved, and not for us - so we ran upstairs just in time to miss getting a seat at the edge of the balcony. All that remained were seats on the interior of the balcony, which is flat and wraps around the “house” about 20 feet above the floor. This meant that, when seated, I could see nothing below the balcony, but at least I could stand up and lean over and see the musicians a little. EXCEPT. We were right over the stage, stage left (house right) and the organ had been placed pretty much directly beneath the edge of the balcony - so even when I could see the other musicians, I still couldn’t see McGriff or Wilson, the names that had brought me out in the first place, but who were literally right below my feet. I’ve never been so close to the musicians I wanted to see and been totally unable to see them. However, when I strolled around to the other side to see what I was missing, it turns out that both of them were rather boring showmen - they just kind of sat there, stroking the keys and occasionally grinning a little. The guitars, drums and sax were a lot more fun to watch, and I got a pretty damn good view of them (especially Grant Green Jr and Pretty Purdie - two of my big faves anyway). I recognized a few standard tunes in both sets but they didn’t play any of the stuff I actually knew from either of their repertoires. Regardless, it was a fun and funky show, distinguished by the total passivity of the rather effete audience.* One guy in the front row caught our eye - a tall thin young man wearing tevas and a suit made of some sort of shiny silver fabric like silk - it looked like pajamas and he looked like a freak, sitting right in front as if he were proud of being so weird. Some people look weird and carry it off but he just looked weird - period. Mostly, though, I leaned over the balcony rail (with apologies, better late than never, to the people I was displacing (but really, they were all spread out over three times more space than they needed, people need to share the wealth goddamn it)) and nodded along with the very very mellow tunes. It was a two-show night so the band shut down early (they had to go on again in less than an hour) - but then ran out to the back of the house to sell CDs, of which I got one from Mr. Wilson himself. Upshot: good show. Next up: Cleveland. (Cue: ominous chord on the B3.)
*: a friend of a friend once called this kind of music MBBFJ: music by blacks for jews. she totally nailed it.
