We want da funk!
Jul. 3rd, 2006 11:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
franceslievensOver the weekend I went to Couleur Café. Primarily a scene for obscure world music, Couleur Café also opens the stage for the big names: two grandfathers of soul and funk played two very different sets.
Two Grandfathers
First up was the grandfather of soul himself: James Brown! He tried to put fire in the tent on Friday evening with a large band, dancers that copied his little dances of decades ago, and singers that had wonderful voices. Mr. Brown himself directed this orchestra with his usual flair, though a bit less energetic. The same words, phrases, and hand gestures were used to conduct. Anyone not familiar with James Brown: When the man says "Let's take it to the bridge!" he means just that: "Stop that jamming and take the song to the bridge." It was great to see this tiny 70-year-old on stage, give it all in his red suit, but it became boring quite easily. The whole set would be quite at home in Las Vegas. This James Brown has become a karaoke-version of himself. It left me wondering whether they'd never thought of sending three different James Brown shows around the world at the same time and make even more money out of it. I missed the spark in this sterile jumble of soul, jazz and funk. A mojito from one of the cocktail-bars on the festival-ground gave me more fun than this grandfather of soul.
What I needed was George Clinton. The Sunday headliner brought a big band, strange creatures, funny voices through the microphone and tons of funk. They had the audience screaming "We want da funk!", jumping up and down, and most of all dancing. George Clinton did what James Brown couldn't do: get the audience interested in the music and not in the legend. George Clinton brings funk the way it ought to be: lots of base that vibrates in your belly and makes your feet not want to stand still. The way The Funk Brothers played it on every Motown-record they made.
One protest-singer
Although scheduled at the very end of the festival, it wasn't George Clinton that appealed to the masses in and outside the big tent. That honor went to Tra-cy, like the French-speaking hordes shouted her name before she entered stage. Tracy Chapman only had to come out and strike a chord on her guitar and she would get enormous rounds of applause. The tent was packed with people and more people were trying to come in, annoying the crap out of me in the process. Nothing is as infuriating as trying to enjoy a concert when constantly arms, hips, knees are poked into you, because there might be some space right there where you are standing. Tracy sounds like her records, which again makes everything a bit sterile when you're listening to her play live. I think an open tent with the sun still out in full force, isn't the best environment to fully appreciate the songs of this tiny woman. Maybe she is best consumed together with a plate of food from Togo, and a pint of beer.
Two Grandfathers
First up was the grandfather of soul himself: James Brown! He tried to put fire in the tent on Friday evening with a large band, dancers that copied his little dances of decades ago, and singers that had wonderful voices. Mr. Brown himself directed this orchestra with his usual flair, though a bit less energetic. The same words, phrases, and hand gestures were used to conduct. Anyone not familiar with James Brown: When the man says "Let's take it to the bridge!" he means just that: "Stop that jamming and take the song to the bridge." It was great to see this tiny 70-year-old on stage, give it all in his red suit, but it became boring quite easily. The whole set would be quite at home in Las Vegas. This James Brown has become a karaoke-version of himself. It left me wondering whether they'd never thought of sending three different James Brown shows around the world at the same time and make even more money out of it. I missed the spark in this sterile jumble of soul, jazz and funk. A mojito from one of the cocktail-bars on the festival-ground gave me more fun than this grandfather of soul.
What I needed was George Clinton. The Sunday headliner brought a big band, strange creatures, funny voices through the microphone and tons of funk. They had the audience screaming "We want da funk!", jumping up and down, and most of all dancing. George Clinton did what James Brown couldn't do: get the audience interested in the music and not in the legend. George Clinton brings funk the way it ought to be: lots of base that vibrates in your belly and makes your feet not want to stand still. The way The Funk Brothers played it on every Motown-record they made.
One protest-singer
Although scheduled at the very end of the festival, it wasn't George Clinton that appealed to the masses in and outside the big tent. That honor went to Tra-cy, like the French-speaking hordes shouted her name before she entered stage. Tracy Chapman only had to come out and strike a chord on her guitar and she would get enormous rounds of applause. The tent was packed with people and more people were trying to come in, annoying the crap out of me in the process. Nothing is as infuriating as trying to enjoy a concert when constantly arms, hips, knees are poked into you, because there might be some space right there where you are standing. Tracy sounds like her records, which again makes everything a bit sterile when you're listening to her play live. I think an open tent with the sun still out in full force, isn't the best environment to fully appreciate the songs of this tiny woman. Maybe she is best consumed together with a plate of food from Togo, and a pint of beer.
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no subject
Date: 2006-07-04 03:28 pm (UTC)Sounds like fun, but a strange combination. Tracy Chapman after George Clinton sounds a bit anti-climactic. I do like Tracy Chapman - loved her first album, but haven't followed her so much in the recent past, but a funk-folk double-bill or triple-bill as was the case here doesn't really work.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-04 07:03 pm (UTC)I didn't really elaborate on when everyone was playing. James Brown was headliner in the big tent (the main stage) on Friday. I didn't attend the festival on Saturday. Tracy Chapman and George Clinton closed that same big tent on Sunday, in that order. In between I also watched a bit of Vive La Fête (http://www.vivelafete.be/), a strange combination of bad lyrics, a singer that sings more out of key than in, and electronics. Karl Lagerfelt loves it. (But that was on a smaller stage.)
Hmm, I hope I cleared things up now!
no subject
Date: 2006-07-04 10:15 pm (UTC)After re-reading the text, I now see my mistakes. You stated quite clearly that Friday was James Brown's night and Sunday George Clinton's. Ooops. I seem to lack basic reading skills!
no subject
Date: 2006-07-04 10:22 pm (UTC)