Today I attended my second concert at Stern Grove, a beautiful natural amphitheatre in the Sunset district and home to an amazing free concert series in its’ 84th year. The band: the Funk Brothers; the weather: clouded by fog and a pleasant 75 degrees; the crowd: diverse, dedicated and groovin’.
To understand Stern Grove, you need to understand the sheer beauty of the venue — a magnificent stage hewn of warm wood tones that blends harmoniously into green terraces laced by stonework, the entirety encircled by climbing banks of tall Eucalyptus.
To bask in this setting — and to guarantee a good seat — patrons arrive early, hence the dedication. This time I was the advance team and was able to spread my blanket on a cozy spot around about 10:00am. Knowing I had a good four hours before showtime, I came prepared with warm clothes, a mug of coffee, the sunday Times (NY, of course) and plenty of snackables. The bottle of Syrah would wait for later. This is a venerable tradition at Stern Grove almost as enjoyable as the concerts themselves: arriving early, enjoying a relaxing morning and waiting for the cavalsace of friends with whom to share the Sunday bliss.
As expected, friends arrived, wine and cheese was consumed and the music began. I had high hopes for The Funk Brothers and I can’t say they were entirely dashed. Many a classic soul hit of the early Motown Sound were performed with skill and energy and, well, soul. I hooted and hollered and sang and boogied along with the rest of the crowd. But the “Brothers” turned out to be singular. That is, just one of the old school session musicians from the Detroit scene was on hand — Jack Ashford — and he was the tamborine player! Yes, he did play some vibes. And no doubt, his tamborine is funky as hell — think Stevie’s “Signed, Sealed, Delivered” and you’ll know what I’m sayin’. But the entire show was held down by a tamborine player!! I can’t help but think of Christopher Walken in that classic SNL skit screaming “I need more cowbell, baby!”
Regardless of my expectations, the group of young musicians that were feeding us the soul were excellent. And the music, tunes that transcend the shelf-life of most popular music, was felt deeply by the crowd, myself included. In fact, the combination of appreciation, familiarity and reverence which those songs brought forth from the audience brought the entire concert to a different level of musical experience. Soaking up the musical love seeping out of the Grove today even managed to get me through the inevitable soul medley and the audience participation rendition of “My Girl” with my smile intact.
I guess some music has so much integrity, so much harmony, that it transcends the entertainment of the day, becoming something more than the white noise of a particular era. Cole Porter and The Beatles come to mind, but I can think of few other genres which continue to move me — and the masses — as soul still can. Rock steady grooves, tight but loose arrangements and hard-hitting, tender-sweet layers of righteous harmony. The precursor to hip-hop, proclaiming love and life and equality. I’m thankful that the soul of old still moves us, but I’m waiting for the entertainment industry to embrace a little bit o’ soul in this day and age. Somehow, Top 40 today just doesn’t bring forth the same joy and inspiration as it did in the heyday of soul music. Call me nostalgic, but lawd have mercy, it’s time we movin’ on up once again. Sam, Ray, Curtis, James… where are you when we need you? At least we can take solace knowing that they are all waiting for us on vinyl, in the stacks.
Filed under: San Francisco
