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On Tuesday night, Robert Randolph and the Family Band delighted a lucky few at Berbati's Pan in downtown Portland. The evening was a reward for the informed in a town where the word is not yet out on Robert Randolph. The vast majority of those in attendance were there because a caring friend called to inform them this show was not to be missed, and it was clear from the start everybody had been looking forward to the show for some time.
An immaculate and dark room tucked into the seedy underbelly of Portland's near-west side, Berbati's proved the perfect venue for the evening’s festivities. In the dark blue light reflecting off the slowly-turning disco ball, guests were treated to ample room, allowing attendees the opportunity to easily find their friends and to experience the show from any position they desired. And as is always the case at a high quality show in Portland, the room was full of familiar faces.
The show began with the band members easing into an instrumental number that set the mood perfectly. Robert stepped on stage a couple minutes into the tune and took his place at the pedal steel guitar set front and center on the stage. The next number featured bass player Danyell Morgan strumming his bass as if it were a mandolin, producing a rich backbone felt deep within everyone present. Danyell, one of Robert’s two cousins in the band, stole the hearts of many women present with his reserved stage presence and impressive command of his instrument. Robert’s other cousin, drummer Marcus Randolph, impressed audience members with his ability to fit in with the rest of the band, holding down the baseline with mechanical execution.
"The March" came next and featured the first audience participation of the evening. Robert stepped away from his guitar and taught the crowd what he claimed to be the simplest dance in the world - a couple steps forward leading with your midsection and accompanied by a circular choo-choo train motion of your fists and then a dramatic bow forward and a couple steps backward leading with your butt. While many felt a bit silly initially, the dance united all in attendance for just a brief moment enhancing the collective mind and bringing the room closer together.
Toward the end of the tune, Robert’s gospel background came forth when he asked the audience, “Can I get a witness?” But Portland, Oregon is a long way from the House of God church in New Jersey where he discovered and developed his craft. While this request did not evoke the raucous reaction one might expect from Sunday congregation, it was a nice reminder that the music connects us all. Be it Christmas mass, the Florida Everglades or the magical fairgrounds of New Orleans, Louisiana, there is something special about dancing in a crowd.
The next tune highlighted organ player John Ginty – the only member of the band not related by birth, but to say he is not related in some way to the other members of the band would be ignorant. All evening cigarette smoke wafted from the top of his organ while Ginty showed his chops or filled the room with his soothing chords.
Following this tune was a number that included more interaction between the band and the audience. As he walked from one end of the stage to the other surveying the crowd, Robert paused to identify individual members of the crowd. Emphatically pointing his finger and drawing his microphone to his face he belted, “Shake Your Hips, Man!,” and with the attention of everyone in the room, that lucky attendee was given the opportunity to do just that. “Shake your hips, Ma’am!” preceded “Play your drums, Man!” and “Play that bass, Man!” as everybody took a turn in the spotlight.
A sultry “Papa Was a Rolling Stone” closed the set before the band returned to encore with what might be their signature tune, “I Don’t Know What You Come to Do.” It was a reminder that everybody arrives with something different in mind and that it doesn’t matter what you had in mind, just do it. The line “I come to clap my hands” was accompanied by a forest of arms hoisted into the air clapping simultaneously. “I come to stomp by feet” was followed by a measure of thunderous foot-stomping that shook the floor and probably the next block.
Robert Randolph's enthusiasm is infectious. He plays with a huge smile and addresses his instrument as if he were making love with it. He is repeatedly turning his head to check on the other members of the band, and when he catches your eye he seems to be playing directly to you and watching you for the effect that his playing is having. Some think his showmanship occupies valuable time that should be spent seated at his instrument, but most enjoy the opportunity to interact directly with the artists.
At one point toward the beginning of the show, Randolph mentioned the terrorist attacks which is often a recipe for disaster in an environment where individuals are hoping to escape from the harsh realities of the evening news, but this time it went over pretty well. He explained that those attacks were an attempt to steal our freedom, but "Look at us here tonight!" Again he yelled, "Look at us here tonight!," and you just couldn't help but feel a little lucky to be a part of a tiny show on a Tuesday night in a faraway corner of the Pacific Northwest.
It wasn't the most inspired performance Robert Randolph has ever given, but by the end of the show the room came together. For the last several tunes, the idle chitchat ceased and everyone present focused strictly on the groove, smiling at each other and back at Robert and the Boys and dancing to their heart’s content.
Please see Robert Randolph. Consider yourself informed.
Adam Kaye
JamBase | P-Town
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