Percy Sledge: Alive in Africa!
There is a certain type of bond that forms between strangers who have endured a traumatic incident in each other's company. This incident could be just about anything, providing it puts enough strain on the individuals' nerves. A natural disaster, a sweeping social movement, the untimely loss of a well loved public figure, even the failure of a modern appliance can bring people together in an unlikely fashion.
Regardless of their differences in all other aspects of life, an affinity will forever remain between the groups of people who found out together that John Lennon died, found themselves trapped in an elevator during the northeastern poweroutage in the summer of 2003, or attended a recent concert in St. Louis, Senegal given by a man named Percy Sledge.
For those who need a revision, Percy Sledge is the self-proclaimed "King of Soul". He is most notably responsible for the original version of the song, "When a Man Loves a Woman
" (listen) which was later made famous by his buddy Rod Stewart. He is the voice behind several other Motown nearly-hits including "I'll be Your Everything" (listen) and "It Tears Me Up". As his website, www.psledge.com, boasts he's had a career - ahem - reign, which has lasted over 50 years, and his most recently released work was released in the summer of 2004. "Shining Through the Rain" (listen) was predominantly a cover album, featuring music by deceased peers. It marked Percy's first time in a recording studio in over a decade. It's no small wonder then, that when I saw the Percy Sledge: LIVE! poster pasted on the side of an ice cream truck my initial reaction was, "Wait- Percy Sledge? I thought he was dead..."
Fortunately (or unfortunately, if you were in St. Louis on December 9th) Percy Sledge is alive and well. A room full of sock-sporting French tourists, middle aged Muslim businessmen, half a dozen British pals and I can attest to that.
Considering this was probably the first royal party to pass through in quite some time, I expected Percy and his entourage to be met with the royal treatment. The setting for this "King"'s reception however was St. Louis's similarly mis-titled VIP room. Little more than 100 plastic lawn chairs evenly spaced out in the sprawling basement of an adjacent hotel, there was nothing "very important" about the Quai Des Arts.
The concert had been advertised to commence at 9pm which meant 10:30 in African time, which meant that around 11 o'clock Percy's backup band of locally hired musicians began shuffling onto the stage for tune-up. After an extensive testing of the venue's sound system (which would later be plagued by several technical difficulties) the band got down to the business of warming up the crowd for his Royal Highness, Percy Sledge. This proved to be quite a challenge as, in an effort to avoid the glorious amounts of feedback emitting from the speakers, most of us had wandered outside and discovered the tiki bar.
So as not to completely lose the audience's attention to the cheap booze and finger food that were trumping the band for entertainment, the evening's master of ceremonies decided to cut right to the chase with a fifteen minute vamp about the man, the legend, the... Fortunately he perceived the testiness of the audience and announced the "King's" arrival.
Sadly, in a misguided attempt to get us to share his enthusiasm, the MC put us through another ten minute's of, "Are you ready?"
"Yes, we're ready."
"I said, 'Are you ready?'"
"Yes, we're ready!'"
"This is the KING OF SOUL we're talking about ladies and gentlemen. Are you READY?"
We were ready, more than. Finally, finally the stage was suddenly bathed in blacknes s- another technical failure or last ditch attempt to excite onlookers, I don't know. Percy Sledge took the stage and the eternal bonding began.
It was clear from the get-go that this was going to be one of those concerts I would refer to later with an ironic tone as "an experience." When the lights came up again we got our first good look at the Percy Sledge all silver-toothed, prosthetic hip shaking five feet of him.
He opened the performance with "Soul Man" a song he proclaimed to be for "God, my family, my friends, the whole world, and everyone who helped me with coming out here to ST. LOUIS, AFRICA!" He added an extra punch to the last words of this highly specific dedication, lest we forget where we were (and had been, waiting, for the last three hours.)
Percy then began a soliloquy about southern living (something to do with his grandmother and "all the friends who couldn't be with us here today.") When he was finished, his tale was punctuated with a menacing growl that I believe was intended to emphasize whatever point he'd long since lost on me. He then added a few hip undulations for good measure. This action elicited some very skeptical looks from the businessmen sitting in the corner and a few screams from the female French tourists. The Brits and I were just dead confused.
He plugged on with the program, stopping between songs to dole out little anecdotes that ranged from mildly tolerable to downright tedious. By the time Percy started "Wishing it Would Rain" I started wishing someone else would take the stage. Little did I know that the evening was in fact to be doubly punishing, as we would soon be graced with the presence of Her Royal Highness as well.
"And now, for this next song, I'd like to ask my wife Rosa to come out here please and help me on this next song. Ladies and gentlemen, meet my Sweet Potato Pie!"
As if we hadn't had enough to bond over that evening, here was something to cement the union of the audience members. The "Sweet Potato Pie" came on stage looking terrified, and once she began to sing it was immediately evident why. Adding insult to audio injury, Percy insisted on practically mauling his wife through each and every song they sang together, presumably to add a romantic effect. Their antics didn't exactly have the desired effect. I believe my friend Sarah was the only one left with the ability to form words upon seeing this spectacle. At one point she leaned towards me and said, "I'm sorry, but only in America!"
The thing is, we weren't in America, we were in Senegal. So there was really no excuse.
Eventually, Percy put the public display of affection on hold and turned toward us, his audience, metallic grin glinting in the fluorescent lights. It was time for the song he knew we'd been waiting for.
"Everyone, I want to thank you all for coming out to see me tonight in this wonderful city of ST. LOUIS, AFRICA!" (Seriously Percy, we hadn't forgotten.)
"And I just want to tell you that when a man loves a woman, he can't keep his mind on nothing else..." Percy reflected on this statement a moment then, because he hadn't pushed the apropriateness envelope enough that evening added, "Because he's busy."
Okay. Despite the painful and hilarious rendition of his famous ballad to male attention deficit that followed, I had to give the man props for the sheer energy he dispensed in its delivery. In fact, at that point in the evening, I decided to give him props all around. From the off-color jokes, to the white socks peeking out from the pant leg of his tuxedo, to the thinned and graying Afro (meticulously coiffed to add a bonus three inches to his diminutive frame). You could say one thing for the King of Soul: he had a special style all his own. I had to respect the man for getting up there and having a ball come hell or highwater, regardless of the fact that he was basically just milking his one major hit for every hip shake it was worth.
The concert was still - ironing tone of voice - "an experience," though how traumatic an experience I'll leave to my shrink to diagnose. I can't count the concert as a total wash. I rarely have occasion to bond with French tourists and Muslim businessmen, and Percy Sledge not only gave me a chance to meet them, he created that special bond that will tie me to these new friends for the rest of my life.
For those who need a revision, Percy Sledge is the self-proclaimed "King of Soul". He is most notably responsible for the original version of the song, "When a Man Loves a Woman" (listen) which was later made famous by his buddy Rod Stewart. He is the voice behind several other Motown nearly-hits including "I'll be Your Everything" (listen) and "It Tears Me Up". As his website, www.psledge.com, boasts he's had a career - ahem - reign, which has lasted over 50 years, and his most recently released work was released in the summer of 2004. "Shining Through the Rain" (listen) was predominantly a cover album, featuring music by deceased peers. It marked Percy's first time in a recording studio in over a decade. It's no small wonder then, that when I saw the Percy Sledge: LIVE! poster pasted on the side of an ice cream truck my initial reaction was, "Wait- Percy Sledge? I thought he was dead..."
Fortunately (or unfortunately, if you were in St. Louis on December 9th) Percy Sledge is alive and well. A room full of sock-sporting French tourists, middle aged Muslim businessmen, half a dozen British pals and I can attest to that.
Considering this was probably the first royal party to pass through in quite some time, I expected Percy and his entourage to be met with the royal treatment. The setting for this "King"'s reception however was St. Louis's similarly mis-titled VIP room. Little more than 100 plastic lawn chairs evenly spaced out in the sprawling basement of an adjacent hotel, there was nothing "very important" about the Quai Des Arts.
The concert had been advertised to commence at 9pm which meant 10:30 in African time, which meant that around 11 o'clock Percy's backup band of locally hired musicians began shuffling onto the stage for tune-up. After an extensive testing of the venue's sound system (which would later be plagued by several technical difficulties) the band got down to the business of warming up the crowd for his Royal Highness, Percy Sledge. This proved to be quite a challenge as, in an effort to avoid the glorious amounts of feedback emitting from the speakers, most of us had wandered outside and discovered the tiki bar.
So as not to completely lose the audience's attention to the cheap booze and finger food that were trumping the band for entertainment, the evening's master of ceremonies decided to cut right to the chase with a fifteen minute vamp about the man, the legend, the... Fortunately he perceived the testiness of the audience and announced the "King's" arrival.
Sadly, in a misguided attempt to get us to share his enthusiasm, the MC put us through another ten minute's of, "Are you ready?"
"Yes, we're ready."
"I said, 'Are you ready?'"
"Yes, we're ready!'"
"This is the KING OF SOUL we're talking about ladies and gentlemen. Are you READY?"
We were ready, more than. Finally, finally the stage was suddenly bathed in blacknes s- another technical failure or last ditch attempt to excite onlookers, I don't know. Percy Sledge took the stage and the eternal bonding began.
It was clear from the get-go that this was going to be one of those concerts I would refer to later with an ironic tone as "an experience." When the lights came up again we got our first good look at the Percy Sledge all silver-toothed, prosthetic hip shaking five feet of him.
He opened the performance with "Soul Man" a song he proclaimed to be for "God, my family, my friends, the whole world, and everyone who helped me with coming out here to ST. LOUIS, AFRICA!" He added an extra punch to the last words of this highly specific dedication, lest we forget where we were (and had been, waiting, for the last three hours.)
Percy then began a soliloquy about southern living (something to do with his grandmother and "all the friends who couldn't be with us here today.") When he was finished, his tale was punctuated with a menacing growl that I believe was intended to emphasize whatever point he'd long since lost on me. He then added a few hip undulations for good measure. This action elicited some very skeptical looks from the businessmen sitting in the corner and a few screams from the female French tourists. The Brits and I were just dead confused.
He plugged on with the program, stopping between songs to dole out little anecdotes that ranged from mildly tolerable to downright tedious. By the time Percy started "Wishing it Would Rain" I started wishing someone else would take the stage. Little did I know that the evening was in fact to be doubly punishing, as we would soon be graced with the presence of Her Royal Highness as well.
"And now, for this next song, I'd like to ask my wife Rosa to come out here please and help me on this next song. Ladies and gentlemen, meet my Sweet Potato Pie!"
As if we hadn't had enough to bond over that evening, here was something to cement the union of the audience members. The "Sweet Potato Pie" came on stage looking terrified, and once she began to sing it was immediately evident why. Adding insult to audio injury, Percy insisted on practically mauling his wife through each and every song they sang together, presumably to add a romantic effect. Their antics didn't exactly have the desired effect. I believe my friend Sarah was the only one left with the ability to form words upon seeing this spectacle. At one point she leaned towards me and said, "I'm sorry, but only in America!"
The thing is, we weren't in America, we were in Senegal. So there was really no excuse.
Eventually, Percy put the public display of affection on hold and turned toward us, his audience, metallic grin glinting in the fluorescent lights. It was time for the song he knew we'd been waiting for.
"Everyone, I want to thank you all for coming out to see me tonight in this wonderful city of ST. LOUIS, AFRICA!" (Seriously Percy, we hadn't forgotten.)
"And I just want to tell you that when a man loves a woman, he can't keep his mind on nothing else..." Percy reflected on this statement a moment then, because he hadn't pushed the apropriateness envelope enough that evening added, "Because he's busy."
Okay. Despite the painful and hilarious rendition of his famous ballad to male attention deficit that followed, I had to give the man props for the sheer energy he dispensed in its delivery. In fact, at that point in the evening, I decided to give him props all around. From the off-color jokes, to the white socks peeking out from the pant leg of his tuxedo, to the thinned and graying Afro (meticulously coiffed to add a bonus three inches to his diminutive frame). You could say one thing for the King of Soul: he had a special style all his own. I had to respect the man for getting up there and having a ball come hell or highwater, regardless of the fact that he was basically just milking his one major hit for every hip shake it was worth.
The concert was still - ironing tone of voice - "an experience," though how traumatic an experience I'll leave to my shrink to diagnose. I can't count the concert as a total wash. I rarely have occasion to bond with French tourists and Muslim businessmen, and Percy Sledge not only gave me a chance to meet them, he created that special bond that will tie me to these new friends for the rest of my life.