1 post tagged “toots and the maytals”
I'd like to propose an ambitious new program to fix what's wrong with music today. My plan calls for rounding up all the wan, sickly, post-ironic indie douchebags (Carl Newman's ears must be burning) and packing them off to re-education camps to learn the art of showmanship. In between hourly canings, the lads would be treated to lectures and demonstrations by artists who have mastered the fine art of giving a shit on stage. Classes could include Finding Your Inner Comb - The Fine Art of Stage Preparation; Singing the Hits People Paid to Hear; and Acting Like You Have a Clue How Fucking Lucky You Are.
I propose that the commandant of the inaugural camp be Frederick "Toots" Hibbert.
I saw Toots and his Maytals for the first time last night at the State Theater in lovely Falls Church, Virginia. As a general rule I: a) don't go out to late shows on school nights and b) don't go to Falls Church, ever. But the chance to see a reggae and rock steady legend at a tiny venue overrode those guidelines, so my girlfriend and I schlepped out to the suburban wasteland and the surprisingly accommodating State Theater.
The State is like a miniature version of the Warfield in San Francisco, with a small, sunken standing area down front, cocktail tables and bars behind that, and a balcony overhead. There was a pretty good crowd on hand, but none of the nuts-to-butts claustrophobia typical of most DC venues. The night started inauspiciously enough, as the crack team at the State seemed to have a little difficulty getting all the microphones working. By the time everything got unfucked and Toots took the stage, it was past 10:30, and I was starting to wonder if this show had been such a hot idea.
It took about .5 seconds of hearing Toots singing "Do the Reggay" to erase my concerns. The 62-year-old Toots took the stage wearing a sleeveless leather and wool pinstriped suit that might seem ridiculous on somebody else. He's been at it for so long that many of the Maytals are his actual offspring, including the bass player and one of the backup singers. From a technical standpoint, the band sounded amazing, and Toots' voice is unbelievably strong. His energy was outrageous and infectious. With a few shouted exhortations he had the whole crowd skanking along (mostly) in time (this is Virginia, after all).
Toots played all but one song I wanted to hear (She's My Scorcher) including Pressure Drop, Monkey Man and Sweet and Dandy (above). He closed his set with a raucous, 10-minute rendition of the amazing 54-46, his signature track (and former prison number, if the story is to be believed). He didn't leave the stage until he had shaken every hand that he could reach in the audience. Just stunning. He'll whip Carl into shape in no time.
