Premium advertising platform it may be, but Champions Square is no place to spend an afternoon in July. At 4 p.m., at the Essence Music Festival’s Block Party I can’t find any unoccupied shade and so I push to the front of the stage to stand outside the umbrellas of wiser audience members. MC Lyte is visible behind of table with a MacBook Pro. She says, “I know things haven’t been real professional here, but one thing I do know how to do, and that’s rock a mic.” People applaud as much as the humidity allows.
Essence crowds love singalongs, and Lyte dishes them out, playing ’90s era hits by this weekend’s artists. Mary J. Blige’s “I’m Going Down”, SWV’s “Weak”, Carl Thomas’ “I Wish”, all get a good response from the 100 or so people. Unaware that MC Lyte was now DJ Lyte, I wait for “Paper Thin”, a track I get asked for every other week by a regular at my bar gig. She definitely can rock a crowd, even if we only see her head above the laptop. The set ends and DJ Spin (the New Orleans male, not the Salt-N-Pepa female) takes over. Rain clouds gather and soon erupt. I end up taking cover in the doorway of the defunct Rotolo’s on Rampart with a couple from L.A. who don’t share their fried catfish.
An hour later, I enter the Dome to the sound of Tank, but decide to head upstairs.
The Verizon Superlounge is nearly empty when I arrive. When Robert Glasper takes the stage with his band, he welcomes “all 20 of you. Actually, I wanted it this way. Very exclusive.” Glasper has great comedic timing and delivery. “There’s a line of a thousand people outside right now.” The crowd grows throughout the show, but begins as a cluster of younger fans who are with Glasper and his Experiment from the get go.
With Glasper’s keyboards serving as the adhesive, his band members shine individually and as a unit. Casey Benjamin on vocals, vocoder, keytar, and tenor provides the edge, manipulating his voice with effects and inserting both solos and complimentary sounds that rough things in important ways. Bassist Derrick Hodge may produce the most innovative sounds of the quartet, going thick then fragile to change the directions between songs. Like him, drummer Chris Dave builds drama, often through steady monotones, then bursts with the band back into a new realm. Yes, I guess I really dug this band.
Glasper’s humor is tied to his weird virtuosity, a kind of “watch this” tendency that works well with the outfit’s raw material, i.e. the last 30 or so years of Black music. Their freeness with references and their collaborations with vocalists like Bilal and Musiq Soulchild creates a sound that feels, well, evolutionary. This evening, after worrying about D’Angelo’s future for a day, I feel a little better that the enduring inheritance of later 20th-Century jazz, neo soul, and hip-hop will continue. Several audience comments suggest those factors are in the air.
“What you know about Herbie Hancock?!” the man behind me shouts playfully. The man in front of me turns and says, “He’s no one else—he’s Robert Glasper.” “Well, that’s Herbie Hancock.” Both of them are right. Benjamin leads an update of Michael Jackson’s “Lady in My Life”, complete with auto-tune and well-placed feedback squeals, that slays everyone. Later, Hancock guy incorrectly identifies a version of Common’s “The Light” as a Slum Village cover. The dude next to him and I both correct him—it is a Dilla production but for the Chicago MC, not the Detroit group. “Afro Blue!” another man requests. “Yeah,” Glasper jokes, “Erykah (Badu) is right back there, hold one.” When he announces the last song, a young kid shouts, “Play some Dilla!,” which is stupidly disrespectful and, as we all note, ignorant of the fact that, well, Dilla’s been up there all night.
The minute Glasper and co. stand up to leave, the Stylistics fans move in, creating an instant generational shift. Middle-aged men and women now sing along to the piped-in “Superfly” and await the Philadelphia sound.
Tonight’s emcee, Chuck Perkins, informs us that four of the original members are here, and then the band kicks in. The gentlemen take the stage in matching gray suits. They sound, look, and move flawlessly, masters of the show. “You Are Everything,” “I’m Stone in Love with You,” “You Make Me Feel Brand New,” all the hits, many of them introduced with “The year was 1972,” or “1982,” etc. When they do “You’re A Big Girl Now”, man, I’m elevated. I stick around for about half the set, then make my way to the floor.
We heard about this last night, but apparently comedian Kevin Hart wants no cellphones, photos, video, or—the most amazing part—tweeting during his set. As the lady next to me explains, “He’s big time now.” You can sort of see his point, not so much that his content will be stolen but that audiences in later tour stops will have heard the jokes already. How this plays out, though, serves neither him, nor the Dome security, who are forced to watch over us and pick out offenders, a thankless job. Since Hart requested silence, all I will report was general hilarity that revolved around his recent divorce and wrapped with some okay stories about his kids. The closing rap was borderline homophobic and involved a Spanish accent. Also, he uses large flames.
The crowd is much larger than the first night of Essence Fest and no one is getting up now, not with the “Queen of Hip-Hop Soul” about to arrive. When Mary J. Blige takes the stage, you understand why she holds the record for Essence appearances. Female empowerment and resilience have never known a greater clarion than Mary J., the Oprah of soul. She works herself into a sweat, still looks good, and has an endless list of hits to deliver. On several, the original music videos play behind her. Throughout, the giant screens on either side of the stage show her stalking from right to left, demanding respect with her lust, asking for better, and proving she cannot be stopped. She covers fellow fest acts Chaka Khan (“Ain’t Nobody) and Charlie Wilson (Gap Band’s “Outstanding”). At one point, I see Mayor Mitch Landrieu on the monitor as Blige shouts out all the females undaunted by negative comments. I hope he enjoyed “Family Affair” as much as I did.
