Just south of midnight, Scott and I staggered down Broad Street. Well, not staggered – lurched, tripped, stumbled. Three sizzled days accompanying 3am nights of “Philadelphia Freedom” in conjunction with last week’s 31st Annual Association of Alternative Newsweeklies Convention had reduced us to fondue.
“Do you know where we are?” whimpered Sancho Panza.
“Of course not!” spittled Quixote.
“I think we need to take a taxi back to the hotel,” muttered the first, turning on his burro and peering into the steamy mist of a mammoth glass and girder opera house. Broad way glowed yellow brick road.
“Two more blocks,” begged Harold.
“There it is!” exclaimed Kumar pointing not 10 yards ahead.
I spun around as if shot, neon catching me in its arms, an oasis in a stenciled shop front. Closed, of course, and no Sunday hours before my flight home. One particular CD rested against the windowsill of Antone’s Records’ East coast cousin, a smaller, more tourist-minded “souvenir shop.”
“Look, here’s the office,” nodded Scott.
I leapt into the dark alcove, fumbling with my camera. Proof, I needed irrefutable evidence. For myself. The disc’s one thing, Sony Legacy shelf-fodder for Barnes & Noble washing up amid a sea of South by Southwest 2008: The Sound of Philadelphia: Gamble & Huff’s Greatest Hits. The O’Jays’ opening shut-down, “Love Train” then “Back Stabbers.” Harold Melvin & the Blue Notes countering with “If You Don’t Know Me by Now” and “The Love I Lost.” Stone soul witching-hour 1970s staples.
“Me and Mrs. Jones,” Three Degrees of amniotic “When Will I See You Again” and their MFSB boop-oop-a-dooper, “T.S.O.P. (The Sound of Philadelphia).” Lou Rawls’ black velvet pledge “You’ll Never Find Another Love Like Mine,” McFadden & Whithead promising there “Ain’t No Stopping Us Now.” Teddy Pendergrass announcing Ms. Patti LaBelle. Turn your love light infrared.
The Roots Picnic on Penn’s Landing all day earlier had been the only mistiming by A.N.N.’s heroic sponsoring weekly, Philadelphia City Paper. Rather than getting on mic at the National Constitution Center’s closing “I See Dead People Party” – guested by state Governor Ed Rendell – slobovian journalists were allowed to make their own way to the shuttles. The one marked Atlantic City tantalized a certain windmill washer, but Philly soul and not Springsteen beckoned tonight’s two explorers. By the time another festival parking lot stampeded our small group of Press hats, Black Thought, ?uestlove, and the rest of the Grammy-winning natives sweated out their last 10 minutes. Rising Down, the Roots’ new burn, baby, burn, vs. the hot wind of politics. I rued the recount.
Blessedly, and not at first, perhaps, Gnarls Barkley – second to last according to the citywide ads, billboards, posters, and handbills – proved the Picnic’s headliner. With The Odd Couple sophomores not measuring up to the “Crazy” debut destination of St. Elsewhere, this didn’t necessarily cheer Roots-loving late comers. Matching 1950s suits and bow ties elicited exactly what an Atlanta burner such as Gnarls Barkley himself – Cee-Loo Green… is the Soul Machine – exclaimed directly after opening the set: “It’s hot as a motherfucker up here.” Down on the asphalt too.
And yet from their very first notes, pop-hop’s pied pipers summoned 1960s Motown down to their frontman’s falsetto. Stiffly-dressed yet hopped up, the mini big band sped through new Danger Mouse droppings such as “Whatever” and Cee-Lo slow jam “Who’s Gonna Save My Soul?” Their black Southern deacon, meanwhile, preached to a throng of mostly white kids like every Hitsville USA act before him. When the first encore gathered only Green, Mouse, ?uestlove, and a laptop technician on guitar, TSOP and not Detroit’s soundtrack mopped up the drenched humidity. Gamble & Huff’s greatest guest hits of the 21st Century brought the brotherly love a la Ben Franklin.
Not that TSOP only croons and coos. Relapse Records’ metal machine stamps out world-renown brands from a concrete bunker and shipping magnate’s warehouse just outside the city in Upper Darby, PA. Look, there’s the Tower Theater on the way, site of many live and dangerous Thin Lizzy plunderings. See (in the image gallery) who’s presently on the marquee? Relapse originals Mastodon knows Phil Lynott’s “Emerald” isle only too well.
Former Philly trio Dysrhythmia, just the night before (Thursday), Relapsed into recent city scene addition and dream tavern come live music venue Johnny Brenda’s for twin paddles of prog to the heart. Previewing epic new instrumentals to follow 2006’s return to forever, Barriers and Passages, the threesome tangled strings and toms into a suspension bridge of atomic sighs (size).
Dysrhythmia dismantles Austin’s Red 7 on Monday, while Gnarls Barkley gets “Gone Daddy Gone” Sunday at the Austin City Limits Music Festival in September, but from the top of the Rocky steps at the Philadelphia Museum of Art down into the Old City district for Philly’s Waterloo Records (A.K.A. Music) and back to the crack in the Liberty Bell at Independence Hall – TSOP cools out feverish summer nights forever and ever.
This article appears in June 13 • 2008.
