concerns: sin, salvation and Saturday night. Last night at the
Mercedes-Benz Superdome, that was abundantly clear as Charlie Wilson,
Trey Songz and New Edition topped the bill, each representing the
festival's core musical values.
He dropped a bomb: Charlie Wilson sang for funk band the Gap Band, and
he opened his Saturday night set with Party Train, dancing onto the
stage in a black sequined suit in the middle of a train of girls. It
was corny old showbiz, and the full-to-the-rafters crowd ate it up,
along with everything else Wilson did. His post-Gap Band career has
become so compelling that he could dispense with You Dropped a Bomb on
Me midway through the set. "I went from rags to riches and riches to
rags," he sang in a gospel passage that laid out the story that many
in the Dome knew by heart. Wilson enjoyed enormous success with the
Gap Band, became an alcoholic and drug addict, ended up homeless, then
sobered up —18 years, he sang — with the help of the Lord. It's a
narrative that earned deafening applause when he sang it, but it
wouldn't mean as much if he wasn't as compelling as he has become.
"Uncle Charlie" as he refers to himself, works for his audience.
The rear projection screen only contributed to the show when it added
fireworks to You Dropped a Bomb on Me. Otherwise, Wilson earned his
applause with costume changes, showmanship and dancing that was more
about enthusiasm than art. His most theatrical effect was the Lucite
piano filled with synchronized lights that he used to perform the
spiritual If I Believe. He demonstrated classic soul chops with Turn
Off the Lights and You Are, the latter pulling together love and
spirituality as he sees the woman who completes him as a gift from
above.
Second Edition: New Edition closed Essence, but it did so more as
Uncle Charlie's afterparty than as a true headliner. The vocal group
started as bubblegum R&B, and songs such as Candy Girl and Mr.
Telephone Man only sounded slighter in contrast. The voices of Ricky
Bell, Michael Bivins, Bobby Brown, Ronnie DeVoe, Johnny Gill and Ralph
Tresvant remain strong, and their commitment to the goofy choreography
was charming. Fortunately, that and a chain of group and solo hits was
plenty for the crowd in the Dome, but it wasn't enough to motivate a
call for an encore after My Prerogative and Poison.
Trey's tease: The bedroom is Trey Songz' muse; he's trying to get
there and deal with the dramas that accompany sexual relationships. He
can momentarily divert from it, as he did when he sang Sensational, a
new song he said he was performing live for the first time. Still, sex
is the electric third rail in his music, and he sings about it with
life or death passion.
It's appropriate that his shows feel like an elaborate tease — or is
it seduction? He started his set Saturday in a tuxedo, raising the
possibility that this might be the show that he doesn't finish
bare-chested. About 20 minutes into the show, he took off his jacket
after singing Can't Be Friends. Then, after Love Faces, he loosened
his tie and unbuttoned his top button. Women squealed with each
gesture toward disrobing, as it was clear where the show was going.
The soundtrack to his slow strip appropriately included Neighbors Know
My Name and Dive In, but Songz toyed with the women in the crowd by
pausing at the undershirt for a song before peeling it to squeals to
finish up with Heart Attack.
Size matters: Indie-rock fans have claimed Beyoncé's sister Solange as
their Knowles, and she showed why Saturday when she covered Dirty
Projectors' Stillness Is the Move, adapting it soulfully to R&B. Her
vision is distinctive and can be extreme, as reflected by her musical
choices, her knee-length braids and the fashionista black-and-orange
jumpsuit she wore to the stage. Still, her set was better suited to a
more intimate venue where her cutting-edge vibe and subtle songs had a
better chance to get across. The big room required bigger hooks.
Monae in Wondaland: Janelle Monae will play Essence Sunday, but she
was in the Dome Friday and Saturday nights hosting a superlounge
showcase of bands that she's producing. The two-woman band St. Beauty
opened with songs that sound like ones Burt Bacharach might have
written them for Dionne Warwick, but arranged for one electric guitar
and two voices. "You don't have to be what other people want you to
be," they said to introduce Americlone, but their vocal tones and
natural style made that point better than the song.
The three-guitar rock band Deep Cotton opened with Sam Cooke's A
Change Is Gonna Come to establish their roots before hurtling
themselves into We're Far Enough From Heaven Now We Can Freak Out.
Mohawked singer Chuck Lightning bounced the width of the stage through
a set that included a downstroke-heavy Satisfaction and their own
Runaway Radio, which ended when one guitarist ripped all the strings
off his instrument.
Roman GianArthur was the most conventional artist under the umbrella
Monae dubbed the Wondaland Arts Society. The singer/guitarist brought
Prince to mind with his searing guitar, easy way with a melody, and
fascination with rock textures. GianArthur finished with the night's
second improbable rock cover: Radiohead's High & Dry, filtered through
D'Angelo.
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