Thousands showed up to hear the Rev. Al Green perform last Friday at the 2nd Annual Rhythm & Ribs festival. But few seemed to enjoy the show as much as the dancing dude 20 feet in front of us.
The stage was in deep center field in one of the diamonds in Parade Park and we were standing in the infield, between second base and the mound. We could have pressed closer but that would have meant standing in front of someone foresighted enough to bring chairs. It was a comfortable distance and the sound was good.
The Rev had his own dancers on stage with him, two strong young men with good moves. He also had a great backing band and his daughter (Deborah, I think) was backing him up on vocals. And he's still got it, Al Green does. Still has the pipes and the verve despite the years. And he's at peace with his early "secular" music and ready to testify on behalf of his savior. Even ready to tack his savior onto the end of "How Can you Mend a Broken Heart?" "... with Jesus," he and the backing vocalists crooned after restating the musical question. (this reminded me of the way my grandpa used to wait for the last note of "Happy Birthday" to chime in "...without a shirt!")
But back to our dancing dude: late 30s maybe early 40s, modest build and wearing the uniform of the white summer American: tee, cargo shorts and running shoes. He'd brought what I'm guessing was his three-year-old son with him. Obviously an Al Green fan from way back, he greeted each classic Al Green song (Let's Stay Together, Love and Happiness) with a spasm of recognition, leaping up with his hands in the air and then stirring the dirt enthusiastically, occasionally pumping one or both fists. Sometimes he'd take the little boy's upraised hands and dance a little jig.
Now I don't know if he's churchy or not, but there was something vaguely Pentecostal in the dancing. He was not "getting down" or "grooving" as people like me used to say all those years ago. He wasn't even trying to "get down" or "groove." He was exulting in the music. It fit the descriptions of "praise dancing" I've heard (and seen, on those "praise music" cds you see advertised on basic cable late at night, often right alongside – in another blending of the carnal and the spiritual - the ads for the Girls Gone Wild videos.)
In an earlier, snarkier phase of my life, this dude and his dancing would have been cause for indignation. But in the end, so what? You pay for your ticket and you get to express your appreciation however you choose. One burst of air-pummeling arm joy did almost graze a passerby, but I'm sure they would have worked it out. Probably would've been a different story at the Warped Tour.
At the same time, don't give me too much credit: We did try to get a quick movie of him, but the dark was too much for our modest camera.
Regional footnote: We decided to go to the show less than an hour before it started. On a Friday night, no less. We found easy parking a few blocks from the venue and the ticket lines were short. We stood in another modest line for a delicious Scimeca sausage on a bun and arrived at our spot just as jovial Brian Busby introduced the Rev. We didn't fight any traffic on the way out. This entire scenario would have been inconceivable when we were living in the Bay Area.
So... Viva the Sticks, bitches!
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