Hampton Phish – 2009 Hampton, VA Phish Video and Audio Clips

By: Jim Welte

“Hi, how are you?”

Nneka

Americans hear this greeting several times a day, from co-workers in the hall to the clerk at the corner store. It’s assumed to be a swift nod to your presence, not an earnest question, and we don’t think much of it. But the off-handed solicitation came as a bit of a shock to Nneka Egbuna (pronounced NAY-ka EG-boo-na) in a shop in New York City in late 2009, and served as yet another peculiarity of the Western world for the Nigerian singer, whose U.S. debut, Concrete Jungle, hit stores February 2.

“The guy hadn’t even looked at me in the face before he said it,” Nneka recounts. “At first, I was very impressed that he wanted to know how I was. I tried to respond, but he never waited for the answer, just went about his business, never looking at me. This guy had absolutely no interest in how I was. That was so strange to me. That’s not how I am. If I ask, I’m asking because I want to know. Let’s connect.”

Such a cultural disconnect could serve as rich fodder for an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm, but instead it’s a starting point for the 29-year-old singer’s arrival on the American music scene. Although she’s been recording and performing in Europe and Africa for six years, Nneka is in the midst of discovering the idiosyncrasies of American audiences. But, it takes about five seconds in the presence of the shy, petite singer to realize that Nneka isn’t about taking pot shots at American quirks. Although her music – a potent mix of hip-hop beats, soulful social commentary and a diverse stew of rhythms – takes aim at capitalism’s “uncomfortable truth” for people in the oil-rich Nigerian Delta and the African continent as a whole, she possesses a spiritual depth that seeks to move beyond the horrors wrought by colonialism and capitalist squall.

The devastation of Haiti offers an obvious example. While acknowledging that what occurred in the earthquake-ravaged nation is mind-blowingly horrible, Nneka doesn’t take the easy opportunity to bash the U.S. for its sporadic concern over the pre-quake troubles of its Caribbean neighbor.

“Everybody says, ‘You ignored them, and why does it have to be in your face for you to deal with it?’” Nneka says, “but that is an easy judgment. You cannot always point the finger. It is horrible what happened. I can’t imagine how those people feel. They probably believe that God has forsaken them. But there has to be negative for there to be a positive. Polarity must be for our existence.”

Nneka

More than at any other time in her adult life, Nneka has reason to give people the benefit of the doubt. Born and raised in Nigeria, she moved to Hamburg, Germany, where her biological mother lives, at the age of 18 to seek a degree in anthropology. While studying humanity, she was occasionally on the receiving end of a bitter dose of it, and struggled with her bi-racial identity as a light-skinned African woman.

“Germany taught me a lot about myself in the sense of coming all the way from Africa and then being there in Germany all by myself,” she says. “Life was not a bed of roses.”

In the course of her schooling, Nneka began to dive more deeply into music, which helped her reconnect with her Nigerian roots. She hooked up with DJ Farhot, who has been her producer ever since, and scored a record deal with the independent Yo Mama label after she walked into their offices and played them a few of her tunes. She became something of a cult star, invoking comparisons to Lauryn Hill and Erykah Badu with an African twist, and even recorded a song called “Halfcast” about accepting “the inescapable death of the white me.” Concrete Jungle is a collection of songs from her two previous European releases, and it shows off her gifts as a singer, songwriter and occasionally a rapper.

Nneka has since moved back to Nigeria, and no longer has any doubts about her identity as a black African artist. “Nigeria is home,” she says. “Living in Germany, I became more passionate about being African and proud to be Nigerian.”

While living in Nigeria is no picnic, it has more cache than ever in the Western world due to a veritable explosion of interest in and attention on African music and culture in recent months. The election of the first-ever President of the United States with African roots certainly helped raise interest in and awareness of the continent. But few could have anticipated the breakout success of the Broadway musical Fela! about the life and music of the Nigerian icon Fela Anikulapo Kuti. Long regarded as a legend by fans of the Afrobeat music style he invented, Fela’s incredible life story is now circulating through the masses as the subject of a hit play that boasts the likes of Will Smith, Jay-Z and Beyonce as its producers.

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Everybody is more outgoing towards Africa right now, it seems. It’s definitely a good thing. There are reasons for hope. -Nneka

The Roots‘ drummer ?uestlove sent out an email to his star-studded address book after seeing the play off-Broadway in September 2008, calling it “the best musical ever created,” and, “There is no option. I expect death to be the only reason why you did NOT see this production.” He quickly signed on as an associate producer. A year later, the Broadway premiere was attended by a who’s who of African-American stars.

Nneka

Nneka has since seen it as well, and was an admitted skeptic about Broadway’s treatment of such an eccentric African star whose music she reveres. “I was quite impressed, and it’s connecting all sorts of people under one umbrella,” she says. “And the audience was mostly white. I was shocked!”

Nneka has noted a similar openness in her few stops in American cities so far.

“I have met a lot of black Americans who don’t know anything about Africa itself and its history, but on the last tour here in the States I realized how much they want to embrace their history and especially their African roots,” she says. “I have also noticed that Americans in general are more outgoing towards African music right now, which is great. People’s perspectives are changing towards the positive and that makes the connection easier.”

That’s partly a generational thing, she notes, and that broader view will only improve as kids grow up under an African-American president. “Everybody is more outgoing towards Africa right now, it seems,” she says. “It’s definitely a good thing. There are reasons for hope.”

Despite several years of success in Europe and Africa and the talent to take her music as far as she wants, Nneka doesn’t come off as a ready-made star. Not surprisingly for a mixed-race singer with such a diverse backstory, she seems comfortable in that gray, complex area between black and white. She’s in love with the music and the message.

“My favorite aspect of it is when I’m working on a new song,” she says. “Something new always gives me much joy, and maybe even pain that is joyful at the same time. It’s the expression and the emotion that is vital to me.”

But the dissemination of that message, whether political or emotional, is not always as joyful. She’s admittedly not a born performer, but says that when she connects with an audience it’s authentic and emotional.

Nneka

“It takes me a while to warm up sometimes,” she says. “It’s not just about showing up and making a good impression. You cannot forget your heart and your love. I have to connect with myself and my spirit to be able to connect with the people. I have been able to achieve that at some shows, but not at all of them. [When it works] people are very attentive and are able to embrace the message and the music.”

That was the case in November 2009, when Nneka stepped onstage at Cafe du Nord in San Francisco looking like it was the last place she wanted to be. She was stricken with a terrible cold on a brisk, foggy night and had come close to canceling the show, an opening slot for the New York City-based Brazilian act Forro in the Dark. With a thick scarf and multiple layers wrapped around her, she didn’t put on a front. She was ill and exhausted.

For the first couple of songs, she leaned heavily on her tight, four-piece band, and her voice, raspier and a bit wispier than usual, faded at times. But when she sang the song “Come With Me” accompanied by only her own acoustic guitar, a transformation occurred. She dug deeply into the lyrics: “No, you cannot take my experience away/ No, you can’t take my soul away/ No, you can’t make me go astray/ because I know where I stand.” As Nneka poured herself into song, the attentive audience perked up and latched onto her every word. Artist and audience were in unison.

By the latter part of the short set, during a stirring rendition of the song “Heartbeat,” Nneka was in full flight. She impelled the song, her breakout European single, with a vocal cadence that mimicked a heartbeat, backed by a double time drumbeat. At the end of the set, she was beaming, probably relieved to have gotten through and likely aware that she’d done a lot more than that. An emerging artist, uniquely talented but not yet fully ripe, had make the connection she longs for and blossomed onstage.

Nneka Tour Dates :: Nneka News :: Nneka Concert Reviews

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Words by: Kayceman | Images by: Susan J. Weiand

Stockholm Syndrome :: 03.05.10 :: The Independent :: San Francisco, CA

Stockholm Syndrome :: 03.05 :: San Francisco, CA

It’s amazing how little has changed in six years. In 2004, I was in Europe with Stockholm Syndrome (read about it here). I was documenting the band’s first tour, carrying amps and selling t-shirts. While it was a great time to be around the band, watching them learn the material and wrestle their way into a hierarchy of sorts, it was not a cool time to be an American overseas. When Obama took office it became a little easier to wear your American pride outside our borders, but inside the confines of our 50 states, it’s still a shit-storm. We may have voted for change, but not much has changed.

Rock & roll is comfort food in times like these, and this band dishes it out in plentiful portions. Whether magnifying our demons on songs like “American Fork” and “Empire One” or helping us forget the pain for a minute with “Bouncing Very Well” or an uber-funky, Clav-heavy “Couldn’t Get It Right” (that sounded like it might drop into “Superstition” at one point), the power of a great song or inspired jam can medicate.

Few of us have known leaner times than today and there are few artists alive who channel struggle, pain and frustration as well as Jerry Joseph. Regardless of what configuration we find him in (Jackmormons, solo, Denmark Veseys, etc.), Jerry always charts a path to open hearts. But, he is never more affective than with Stockholm. Backed by bassist Dave Schools (Widespread Panic), drummer Wally Ingram (David Lindley, Sheryl Crow, Jackson Browne), keyboardist Danny Louis (Gov’t Mule) and the inimitable Eric McFadden on guitar, there are not many bands that can match the intensity and sheer power of SS.

Jerry Joseph :: 03.05 :: San Francisco

Mixing songs from the band’s 2004 debut, Holy Happy Hour, with new tracks off the soon-to-be-released sophomore album and Jerry’s solo work, Stockholm Syndrome also decimated a few huge covers on their first night in San Francisco. Coming out of a sprawling “Kind Of Place,” a Jerry song with a huge sing-along hook that should have charted on the radio years ago, the band closed set one with the late Vic Chesnutt’s “Flirted With You All My Life.” A song about death by a man who recently took his own life, there is no heavier subject matter, and they paid homage by taking it into very dark terrain. But what was so remarkable about this song was the transition from pitch black despair into something with a slight reggae influence and upbeat conclusion. Together it was a musical reminder that there is light at the end of the tunnel, even if we have to cross over to find it.

The other bust-out cover came mid-way through the second set with Dylan’s “Where Are You Tonight?” Beefed up on testosterone and delivered in classic Jerry style, they latched onto the original’s gospel roots and turned it into a rock burner. Even folks familiar with the song were scratching their heads for the first few minutes. You could almost read their minds: “I know this song… but what is it?”

More than any specific song, what makes this band so fun is watching them lock horns. Each member is a true Alpha Dog and if they don’t take some space, they won’t get any. This is what makes Danny Louis such an asset. The original keyboard player, German star Danny Dziuk, was more passive, Louis is not and he knows when to really lean in. The same could be said for McFadden. A more talented guitarist you will not find, and though he is at times overshadowed by Jerry’s massive stage presence (not to mention his often overlooked guitar work), McFadden is a powder keg ready to explode. His solos are always over-the-top, but it’s when he and Jerry rub against each other, harmonizing their guitars and weaving notes, as they did on “Ray Of Heaven” and “Conscious Contact,” that the sparks really fly.

McFadden & Schools :: 03.05 :: San Francisco, CA

Alas, one would be remiss to not make prominent mention of Dave Schools. Playing a bit more of a traditional bass role than in Widespread Panic, Schools utilizes a four-string here to devastating effect. From heavily dubbed out sections that would set Jerry up for surprisingly strong white-boy reggae (not easy, and Jerry does it better than just about anyone) to expansive bass solos, mean power rock and spot-on vocal harmonies, Schools is the not-so-secret weapon of Stockholm Syndrome.

It can be a dicey situation with Jerry Joseph as the bandleader. He can’t do it any other way. He has to be the frontman, and the more confident and loose he is, the better the performance. But this is not the Jackmormons and every player needs room to shine or they’ll grow bored (or worse, they might get angry). Finding that balance is the key to Stockholm Syndrome’s success, and longevity.

During second set standout “Shinning Path,” I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if this band was the full-time priority for all five members. An older Jerry song about the brutal Communist Party of Peru, the band gave Jerry as much rope as he wanted, and he tied a knot around The Independent, pulling us deep into his world. A slow building, explosive rocker, when Jerry screamed, “You said that you’d die for me,” while McFadden blazed a solo and Schools dumped heavy bass over the top, it was everything rock fans dream about.

Stockholm Syndrome :: 03.05.10 :: The Independent :: San Francisco, CA

Set I: Red Lightning, Couldn’t Get It Right, These Grey Days, Sing Bird, In Your Cups, Kind Of Place, Flirted With You All My Life

Set II: Ray Of Heaven, Purple Hearts, Shining Path, Where Are You Tonight?, Friendly Fire, Bouncing Very Well, Conscious Contact

E: Wisconsin Death Trip

Continue reading for Dennis Cook’s review of the second night…

Words by: Dennis Cook | Images by: Susan J. Weiand

Stockholm Syndrome/These United States :: 03.06.10 :: The Independent :: San Francisco, CA

Stockholm Syndrome :: 03.05 :: San Francisco, CA

The best rock shows tend to carry a sense of ritual about them. It’s all fine and well for a band to play appealing songs good and loud, but if the instigators have deeper intentions – even if they’re primarily subconscious – then a gig becomes an experience, perhaps first felt in a visceral manner but followed by psychic aftershocks that keep one pondering what occurred. More simply, if musicians build a metaphorical bonfire, bang a drum and wag their talking stick in our faces we respond to the shaman’s call.

While maybe not a full blown pagan revival meeting, Stockholm Syndrome with testifying openers These United States, flirted with this sort of ontological rising tide. For sure, both bands proffer some of the sturdiest, thickest rock out there right now, but both also actively engage in questions of spirit, humanity, politics and ethics. No teenybopper tripe here, and while some of the headier notions got caught in a snarl of guitars, volcanic bass and the sweat ‘n’ heat of the moment, there was no denying we collectively surfed the edge of a deep wave. Sometimes the music held us high, staring out over an ocean, and at others pulled us down into the salt and seaweed to gasp a little.

From their reaction inspiring name through their coiled group energy and increasingly tricked out catalog, These United States long to connect – for good or bad – with any audience they face. Largely unknown to the heavily Panic slanted crowd at The Independent, TUS nevertheless delivered a raggedly right performance that leapt with such joy and happy intensity that I stood dumbfounded at the mostly motionless people around me – dear lord, how can you NOT move to this!?! Watching lead singer/frontman Jesse Elliott leap into the yawning divide between the stage and hangers-back, there was no doubting their dedication to bridging such spaces. From their foundation up, TUS is about connections, all of them – love, hate, envy, history, etc. – just so long as truthful feeling is involved. And their strong playing and cool variety in interpreting their earlier tunes shows the density of shared intentions has grown very strong with this lineup. There’s more than a touch of mid-70s Dylan to them, and their interpretation of Bob’s “Meet Me In The Morning” this night would have put a smile on Dylan’s pancake white face during the Rolling Thunder days. As with every other time I’ve seen TUS, it seemed like they left everything they had in them on the stage. To withhold from one’s calling would be a sin and these boys aren’t sinners in any but the most playful ways.

Dave Schools :: 03.05 :: San Francisco

There are a lot of “what if’s” in rock history. What if Blind Faith hadn’t been undone by ego and friction and managed to make a second or a third album? What if Robbie Robertson hadn’t pirated The Band’s fortunes and instead shared the wealth and creative control with his comrades? There are too many such seemingly brilliant combinations of talents that imploded despite the best hopes of all involved. Which brings us to Stockholm Syndrome, a supergroup of sorts, at least within the cloistered jam community. Jerry Joseph (lead vocals, guitar), Dave Schools (bass, vocals), Wally Ingram (drums), Eric McFadden (guitar, mandolin, vocals) and Danny Louis (keyboards) all have their fingers in multiple pies, some high profile (Schools’ enduring role in Widespread Panic, Louis’ anchor role in Gov’t Mule), some cultily adored (Jerry J, McFadden), some relentlessly busy (Ingram’s in-demand studio talents and hired killer status for big name acts as well as collaborator with great lesser-knowns). But, every damn time they assemble as Stockholm Syndrome we I start wishing they’d quit their day jobs and really see what Stockholm can do. It’s usually a few songs into the first set that this feeling hits me, hard, and right on time it whacked my solar plexus as Joseph roared, “I’m a killer, baby, that’s what killers do!” with McFadden prodding his ass like the devil with a new pitchfork and a luxurious, furious undercurrent of Schools, Louis and Ingram creating a rumble you felt in the meat of you.

This is not small-ball rock ‘n’ roll. Stockholm not only aspires to but achieves the dense, intermingled thickness of ’70s progenitors like Zeppelin, Deep Purple and Thin Lizzy but with Jerry’s politically and psychologically intense lyrics (which provide the lion’s share of the words thrown out) transforming them into a totally different animal than these classic rock stepping stones. And here’s where that shamanic/cosmic thing comes in. Combined with music that’s not just reaching out but actively snatching one up and slapping them around a bit, the lyrics hold a deep, dark, truthful mirror up. It’s for society in the larger sense, but also for us, personally. Slamming down drinks and numbing the working week’s disappointments, I still couldn’t escape the feeling I’d been psychically depantsed by Joseph refrains like, “It’s good to be alone,” “We see what we want to see,” and other nitty gritty couplets that hit close to home for dreamers and lovers that struggle to do either in the world as it is today.

Stockholm Syndrome :: 03.05 :: San Francisco, CA

Some sections are strong and uplifting, but even that is hard won in Stockholm’s scheme of things. The work of life, the labor of being better than our past and emerging into the best we can be, floats in their themes and stories, which sometimes offer us “crayons from our childhood/ a 64-pack set” but more often hand us a gun or torch. Personally, I freakin’ love it and welcome any chance to dive deep in this shallow world. It’s clear they won’t be satisfied in the shallows based on the new material played at this show, all of which is promising and worthy of further inspection. It’s hard to get a distinct sense of Stockholm’s catalog or where it’s going because they play together so rarely, but for guys who only gather occasionally they sure exhibit a TON of chemistry that largely overcomes the rough edges. Dressed in jeans and t-shirts, this feels like their “working band,” a project that reconnects them to the roots of their inspirations AND is a total blast to play in. None of these guys is known for oodles of smiles in their other bands, yet they can’t seem to stop grinning in Stockholm Syndrome. That alone is a powerful sign that they should invest whatever time they can in this band. Plying one’s craft with genuine pleasure is the surest way to guarantee positive end results.

The steaming, churning engine inside them was firing on all cylinders by the end of the first set with a blistering takedown of “Crime & Punishment” and especially “American Fork.” Wasting little time with a break – who could deny them a smoke after a set that left one feeling pleasantly wrecked like after good sex – they attacked the second set with enormous vigor, with the highlights, perhaps predictably, being shattering, faith affirming versions of Joseph’s signature tunes “The Jacob Ladder” and “Road To Damascus.” Now, nothing surrounding these two was any slouch, and it’s intriguing how the songs are starting to mingle and morph with this quintet. If nothing else, the relatively intimate Independent allowed one the rare opportunity to perch mere feet over Dave Schools’ shoulder and just let his technically brilliant, he-man-as-hell bass work vibrate your balls and make you feel alive. The man oozes rock power and his presence as much as his playing informs this band in totally positive ways.

Stumbling out onto Divisadero Street, I once again entertained the question that’s followed me from every Stockholm show: What if these guys made this band their priority? My gut says the possibilities are pretty limitless and that they’ve only just scratched the surface. The collective confidence and sheer talent of these five men is staggering and incredibly exciting. I just hope we get to see it come to its full fruition one day.

Stockholm Syndrome :: 03.06.10 :: The Independent :: San Francisco, CA

Set I: Tight > Empire One > Easter, Tarantula Hawk, Miranda, Crime & Punishment, American Fork

Set II: Apollo > The Jacob Ladder > Emma’s Pissed, That Which Is Coming, Spy > Road to Damascus, Light Is Like Water
E: Lick The Tears

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Word by: Cal Roach
| Images by: Derek Dysart

John Mayer :: 03.01.10 :: Bradley Center :: Milwaukee, WI

You have to keep your appreciation for music separate from your opinions about the musicians, even when those musicians are doing everything possible to frustrate your efforts. It’s a slippery slope, and if you’re not careful, you’ll wind up having to throw out all your Beatles and Led Zeppelin records. Still, when a fan passed John Mayer a big cardboard sign that read, “MUSICAL NAPALM,” at the end of his set Monday night, it drove home just how difficult it is lately to ignore his offstage antics. But aside from that moment, it was pretty easy to forget the media shit-storm and enjoy Mayer and his crack rhythm and blues band playing a set of well-oiled American rock and roll.

I’ve always felt that Mayer uses a bit too much of a Dave Matthews-ish raspy affectation to make up for the lack of depth in his voice, but his natural vocals aren’t bad and he doesn’t overreach or make his singing the focal point of the show. Some of the best moments were his harmonizing with backup singers Julie Delgado and Melanie Taylor, particularly on “All We Ever Do Is Say Goodbye.” Bottom line: You don’t get the impression that he’s up there faking it; there’s soul buried under the sheen.

The Mayer catalog is essentially split between girl-baiting sensual oozers and smooth blues, resulting in a largely tame but undeniably classy performance. He’s not up there humping the mic stand or blowing kisses; he’s making awkward faces as he wails on his guitar in loose-fitting gray pants. He arranged the set in perfect stylistic balance to please almost any stripe of fan. Although any diehard holdovers from his acoustic troubadour beginnings may not have been satiated by a mere two-song interlude, it was a particular treat, as he debuted an untitled tune he’d just written (“Everything you’ll ever be/ You already are to me”) and played a truly engaging arrangement of Springsteen’s “I’m On Fire” with his own “3X5″ sandwiched inside.

John Mayer :: 03.01 :: Milwaukee, WI

Those unfamiliar with his material got plenty of kick-downs, as Mayer led the band into a portion of Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams” at the end of “Half Of My Heart” and ended the set with a fierce “Message In A Bottle” jam that bled into “Why Georgia.” However, it was tough to get your head around his rendition of “Crossroads.” It’s a blues Holy Grail that Mayer hasn’t earned the right to sip from, particularly in this hair-gel glossy arrangement and with a super-cheesy LED “psychedelic” backdrop. Still, Mayer’s guitar solos were scorching.

Mayer’s instrumental chops are admittedly derivative, mimicking Clapton and Stevie Ray Vaughan most blatantly, but he’s not just another pretty guitar-solo face – the guy can play. A couple of sharp duels with David Ryan Harris and ex-Pretender Robbie McIntosh (who also provided some outstanding slide work) proved to be highlights of the set, but there was no question as to who was the star at any point, and mutual admiration beamed from all their faces. He saved his best stuff for the final song of the night, “Gravity,” leaving no doubt that once the pop pinup/tabloid bull’s eye gig dries up he’s got a lot to offer as a guitar hero. The performance was enough to make me believe that deep down, that is what he’s really after.

Michael Franti & Spearhead opened the show and positively made the most of their hour slot. Franti was among the audience for a good third of the show, whether strumming an acoustic from the stands or bringing all the kiddies (and a few somewhat older kiddies) onstage for the sing-along finale of “Say Hey (I Love You).” This guy knows how to get a crowd pumped up and feeling like part of the show. I’d only caught a couple of disruptive guest appearances by Franti before, so this was an eye-opener of a set. Brimming with positivity and charisma that more than made up for the somewhat run-of-the-mill tunes (except the aforementioned “Say Hey;” that thing deserves its hit-single status), Spearhead is a party with a message that the world can use right about now.

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John Mayer

John Mayer

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Michael Franti & Spearhead

Michael Franti & Spearhead

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