Three shows in three days. A few hundred miles on my car, bleary eyes and a backache to match. I'm actually surprised that I haven't dosed off at the wheel yet. Can life get any better?
Starting a three-day musical binge (and subsequent scholastic purge), a group of friends and I embarked on the magical trip that is following the String Cheese Incident.
SCI, the current forerunners in the "who will be the next big jamband now that the Grateful Dead and Phish are gone" game, is an eclectic mix of ski bums-turned-musicians from the Rocky Mountains who, as some of the most diversely talented musicians on any current scene, have gathered a following, released five albums and started their own record label since their conception in 1993. SCI blends the sounds of bluegrass, jazz, funk, jamminess, calypso and roughly everything else into a musical framework that comprises few words and long, drawn-out improv sessions--songs extending to nearly half an hour in length yet maintaining tight structure throughout.
The trip started with New York City, at the Theater at Madison Square Garden, on All Hallow's Eve. A swarm of white-boy dreads, patch-work pants, afro-wigs and fairy wings met me at the door; only some of these were costumes.
The first set of the night was a decent warmup, the second was a phenomenal experience, complete with covers of John Lennon's "Instant Karma," the classic "New York, New York" and the Beastie Boys' Brooklynite anthem "No Sleep 'til Brooklyn," which featured the beat box noises of one Rahzel (formerly of the Roots, now just freelance). Rahzel also popped up for the encore, a phenomenal jam of the Grateful Dead anthem "Shakedown Street." Besides the numerous covers, there were also SCI songs aplenty, including a smoking "Land's End," a 12-minute jam that seemed to epitomize the night and was an embodiment of the spacey instrumental flow that has no definitive musical classification--just one of the numerous songs that made up the 3 1/2 hours of music that night.
The next night, at the Electric Factory in Philly, was a more funked out version of Halloween, as SCI took a turn to the funky side. The Incident ripped out 14 songs, none of which had been touched the previous night. Despite the ridiculously paced frenetic Halloween show, the Cheese put on a still vibrant three-hour compilation of songs that ranged from the nether-realms of funk--the theme of the night--to a tinge of bluegrass, a cover of the Led Zeppelin "Ramble On" to a rendition of "Happy Birthday" for the band's soundman. The playing was fine though a little more scattered than the night before; whereas on Halloween every note was tight and well played, concise and to the point while being extended in a lengthened jam, the Philly show was marred by the occasional musical wanderings into the realm of obscurity. Nevertheless, the high-reaching, lofty jam-peaks made up for the occasional spats into nowhere, and the crowd energy was enough to conquer any possible mistakes.
The final show, November 2 at the D.A.R. in D.C., was a bluegrass menagerie, as the trip south of the Mason-Dixon line brought out the roots of the Cheese. This show, like the Philly one, was a compilation of songs not previously played on my trek, but was also slightly lost at times, wandering into the realms of the unknown and often unfound. Nevertheless, SCI found ways to bring the crowd to its feet--when the jamming clicked, the sound was a ridiculously intense culmination into the world of jammination.
So it's Tuesday night. I'm still catching up on sleep. My back is killing from nine hours of dancing in three days. My short term memory has been fried away. And for some reason, I can't wait for the party to come back to town.
