In a desperate attempt to get out of my apartment on a lovely Tuesday evening, I consulted my trusty Time Out New York magazine to see which free concerts were happening. Scanning the listings, I quickly come across an item about The Robert Glasper Experiment featuring Q-Tip and Bilal at Damrosch Park on the Upper West Side. The show was supposed to start at 7:30, and having come across this information at 6:45 didn't leave me much time to get ready and head down there. I packed a little picnic dinner and ran out the door.
The ride to Damrosch is quick. The outdoor show had already started, and stepping through the back entrance I see the venue is packed. I manage to carefully sidestep my way through the rows and rows of patrons to grab a seat atop the stone wall lining the Lincoln Center venue. When I finally settled, I noticed the band onstage wasn't quite what I was expecting: there was a full brass band with some orchestra pieces mixed in, with a choir singing. Huh. Not quite what I was expecting from Q-Tip. Maybe he's doing some kind unexpected collaboration/experiment like Talib Kweli's Revive Da Big Band? Looking around, I notice that the median age of the audience members must have been about 75, to be generous. Strange things were afoot at this Circle K.
Not long after, the band left the stage. Okay, I tell myself, that must've just been the warm-up act. Q-Tip and Bilal should be up next; don't let all these old people throw you off. Then a man takes the stage, making a similar, but no less valid speech I've heard at many free shows, urging patrons to donate so that the free entertainment at Damrosch. Then he continues, "...I hope you've all been enjoying the Woody Guthrie tribute concert tonight!" Say what now? What the hell have I gotten myself into? Not that I have anything against Mr. Guthrie, it's just not the kind of place I would've expected to find myself on purpose. But I figured since it was a nice night and I had shrimp wonton soup I really wanted to dig into before it got cold, I might as well stay.
The emcee announces the next band as The Klezmatics, who were going to take a Klezmer take on Guthrie's music. For those not in the know, klezmer is a traditional style of music defined by its expressive melodies mimicking the human voice originating from the Yiddish, or so Wikipedia tells me. The band performed many of Guthrie's songs with vigor and energy, and it was a wonder the power the music had to spur the old patrons to dance like they were young men and women again. The band introduced a few of the songs with a story, and I was struck most by the song that was apparently written by Guthrie's young daughter Cathy Ann, who perished in a fire at five years old. The band also klezmerized several holiday songs, bringing members of the audience to their feet. One of their final songs a lullaby of sorts, which the Klezmatics noted was requested by one of the Lincoln Center patrons, who stated was a song they played for their children before they went to sleep. The band soon left the stage and many of the audience lined up for the exits, but not before the Klezmatics returned to the stage for an encore. Deliberating if I should stay or not, I decided that while I enjoyed the show, I was going to call it a night. "You're not going to stay for the encore?" a man asked me on my way out. "No, but you have fun!" I responded. I was all Guthried out.
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