In triplicate

How bizarre to join the line at the Women's Room near Prospect Park Bandshell last evening and overhear one woman saying to another: "Ed McMahon. Farrah Fawcett. Michael Jackson." I come from people who say, "Deaths come in threes." So, my ears perked up. What the hell else could she have meant?

I'd just come off the subway from Manhattan. No radio. No iPhone. Only an iPod Touch out of range of WiFi. Celebrate Brooklyn's publicist brought it up, though, somewhat tentatively: "Did you hear anything about Michael Jackson dying?" I said, "Whoa! This woman in the restroom...!" A friend of his came by and confirmed the story. We stood around, talking about what a cute kid the young Jackson had been. That nose, adorable. Why couldn't he see that?

I made a call, left a message for my wife. Called a friend who cried, "I heard!" before I even got one word out. Later, the woman sitting next to me in the press area kept babbling away about Femi Kuti's dancers--even during the opening act's set--and refused to listen to anything about the loss of Jackson. "I'll cry when this show is over."

She had a little camera with her, boasted of chatting up Angelique Kidjo, who I adore, and who was circulating in the crowd. She much prefers Youssou N'Dour, Salif Keita, Baba Maal and Femi Kuti, of course, saxophonist/vocalist son of Afrobeat's illustrious warrior, the late Fela Anikulapo Kuti. I love 'em all.

Mostly, though, she worships Femi Kuti's trio of dancers, whose ebullient shimmying is a truly a cause for wonder. "Can you guess which is my favorite?" she later asked me during a brief moment of rest at her seat. I guessed correctly, and she trotted back to one corner at the edge of the stage, leaving me to enjoy the show. At last!

Melvin Gibbs' Elevated Entity (which included Vernon Reid on guitar, Bernie Worrell on keyboards, and vocalist Amayo from Antibalas) opened the evening with some chugging Afro-Brazilian-funk-rap, which I liked well enough. Kuti's set, though, was a marvel of discipline, swing and energy--and not just because of all that powerful shimmying. Kuti follows his father's example in not merely playing for you but enlisting you in his army, and I happily signed up.

Kuti lyric quote of the night: "You better ask yourself why the richest countries have the poorest people." Yeah.

Here's a good article on Kuti by Saby Reyes-Kulami in Seattle Weekly (June 9, 2009):

Femi Kuti Pushes Afrobeat Into the 21st Century
The son of a genre pioneer brings hip-hop, soul, jazz, and brevity to the mix.