Tricky in Philly...
A sold-out show at the Theatre of the Living Arts, Third and South Streets, in the post-punk Villageful section of the Olde City.
Show opened with a tired rapper rapping tired wraps.
Our gang couldn't dig it; half went out for Mexican at Copa, and half of us stayed and chatted with the Brit promoters in the lobby, recommending Philadelphia junk food and so on.
Guy Called Gerald spun the decks in the midst.
Began with more laid-back vibes, building to d&b crescendo grooves.
Low volume level, and G was partially obscured if not obstructed by the stacks of amps; perhaps he's just shy.
Anyway, many in the largely stoned audience didn't seem to realize that Something Important was happening, and went on talking as if they actually thought someone was listening to them.
Tricky had=s recently gained a bad (w)rap for being a bit too live in concert, what with storming off the set or refusing to sing or whatever. Martine usually saved the day, as the tale is told.
Anyway, the Trick outdid himself this time, to his credit but perhaps also to his disadvantage, kicking out a two hour set with the top band. Perhaps he was attempting to answer the critics, or just warming up for the subsequent New York shows. Rumours do tell that the man is asthmatic, and one of our crew (truth be told, also asthmatic) had brought along the secret spray can in case it would be needed. Boy Scout's motto and all that. Anyway, Tricky's vox started out raw and ended up demolished. His voice was oddly so far back in the mix that this debacle went largely unnoticed.
Credits to the band: Rhythm section was extra tight in that laid-back dirty backbeat tricky way. The predominant sound of the evening was BASS. As in _bass guitar_. Yes, it's true. Tricky and another keyboard chap twiddled the knobs on unidentifiable samplers, producing oddly syncopated or completely out-of-time samples, the likes of which have never been heard before. Very creative uses of sound texture. As femme fatale commented, this is music which does not call overt attention to its reference points, and so still comes off as Something New. Hats off!
All the expected songs, no need to list. Closed with a self-indulgent version of a song whose name I can't recall, originally 3 minutes, clocking in somewhere around 14 here, prompting us to reminisce about Freebird and Stairway and catch a cigarette in the lobby. A bit of excess on the race politics, and Tricky exhibited the rather frightening self-centeredness of a tripper in withdrawal, trembling and shaking throughout the concert. His intense female alter/altar ego outshone Tricky's vocal toasting, passionate and sensuous, intelligent and strong.
Audience was 99% white, surpisingly in a city that's 50% black/white.
I expected a more heterogeneous crowd.
Random observations. But the consensus of our group of ten was general disappointment. The sophisticated slow burn of the band failed to compensate for Tricky's seemingly bitter stage persona.
Those of us who made it to Palmer for the after-hours trance seen/scene, found themselves dancing next to a post-concert re-energized Tricky and crew...
This article was written without the support of the National Endowment for the Arts.
Zenon M. Feszczak
Philosophist