Outdoors with Midón and Ndegeocello

I went to the Lincoln Center Out of Doors Festival the other night to catch up with the always-fascinating Meshell Ndegeocello, whose music I hadn't heard in a while. But I ended up falling in substantial admiration--if not total love--with Raul Midón, who opened their sweet, cool evening at Damrosch Park Bandshell.

One of his fervent fans likened Midón--a blind singer-guitarist with Black/Argentinian roots--to the venerable Stevie Wonder. Now when it comes to total love, I am fallen-and-can't-get-up in total love with Stevie, and there's only one of him. When Midón came out and stood at the stage's edge, all alone with his guitar, it seemed as if the bandshell and the open sky above Lincoln Center would swallow up this gentle man.

But then, yeah, Midón started to play and sing, sounding unmistakably like Wonder. He worked similar rhythmic pathways ("Don't Take It That Way") and mellifluous, uplifting material ("Sunshine/I Can Fly," "State of Mind"). Maybe I was hearing a little Marvin Gaye in his often-enchanting voice, and the lilting Sting of early, reggae-flavored Police ("Invisible Chains"). After a while, I realized Midón was more than holding his own with that lone guitar, with his uncanny ability to mimic a trumpet's sounds, his sense of humor and winning rapport with the audience, even his brief taxi to the dark side ("About You," as in,"I never really gave a fuck about you"). He's a delight, and his Web site is here.

For the longest time, I couldn't sort out much of what Ndegeocello was singing--speaking of things getting swallowed up--but I did get mindlessly swept up in the pumping, soupy, trancey, irresistible rock groove that she and her quartet laid down. Expect her new CD and a gig at Highline Ballroom on October 6.