Wednesday, April 14, 2004

You have to start somewhere. Pharaoh Sanders at the Prince last night is a good start. A better start than 'Hello Folks'. Or than James Brown last, when, Thursday? As soulless as a Soul Man gets. But then he's 70. So is Pharoah, and he can still make The Truth come out the end of a saxophone like James Brown can't.
I don't know what I expected for my $100. Maybe the problem was it was exactly as expected. The crowd full of ... well, they weren't nature's winners. A curious, queer strata of folk I found uncategorisable, at best. Watching a bandleader going through ropes he's gone through so many times that you're sure he can't remember the real reason he tied them in the first place. With a band who were just tired. And wearing white slacks.

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