Michael Franti & Spearhead put on a terrific live show, and I am a curmudgeon. We need to stipulate those two items up front.
This is a case in which I think the artist is great, enjoyed the show, think it was a well-constructed show… and still am pretty sure I was not the target audience for this experience. I’m an introvert. My specialty is looking wistfully mysterious from a bar stool in the distance. Give me the bar stool and the distance, and I can bring the mystery like nobody’s business. I am utterly inept at situations that call for jumping up and down with my hands in the air. Indeed, I can provide the date, hour, and GPS coordinates of the last time I was drunk enough even to consider doing that, as well as testifying that on that occasion, I had quite a lot to say about Lacan but did no noticeable jumping.
At the same time, the spectacle of several hundred people jumping up and down with their hands in the air is quite impressive, when viewed from a safe distance to the rear that prevents one from being showered with other people’s beer. It’s even more impressive when they shout the more memorable bits of the lyrics, which they obediently do. A Franti/Spearhead show is the full aerobic workout of rock shows; it might even qualify as kick-boxing. Read the rest of this entry »