My head was bobbing, my lips pursed a hand rolled cigarette and my hair was unkempt and wavy. I looked out across the sea of bearded intellectuals, stylish new mothers, hip sneaker wearing blonde women and slick urbanites; I knew I was in the right place. “The Seven Bridges Jazz Festival” was in full swing and as a nascent member of this society; I was excited to have found it. I quickly grabbed a beer and started off towards the lip of the stage. Shimmying my way through the crowd I locked eyes with the beautiful lead singer of The Soul Prophets of Amsterdam. As soon as her wandering eyes hit mine the music trailed off into the distance, the lights became glossy and for a moment she and I sat together in a luxurious room filled with fur coats and grand pianos. She wore a tight black dress and we discussed the world’s most beautiful chord changes until the sun rose over the city skyline. At least that’s what I wanted more then anything at that moment. I wish I could have snuck backstage, grabbed a guitar and busted out in the middle of her Stevie Wonder cover right at the chorus, “isn’t she Lovely…” I would have sung. Maybe my improvised romantic move could win me a spot in the group? I would gladly spend my next few months traveling with her, singing duets and becoming tangled in a band love-affair drama.
Good music makes you creative, it makes you think and muse and explore. The Soul Prophets of Amsterdam play good, good music. The saxophonist and the trumpeter are both chic white girls clad in tight jeans, tattered t-shirts and severe hairstyles. Whilst giggling at each other’s solos and waving at adoring fans they played all their bars loudly and on steep crescendos they went almost sharp with excitement. The pianist, bassist and guitarist are all skinny as a rail. The slender mop tops are obviously far less cool than the three main ladies upfront, so they were regulated to the back of the tent behind cymbal rods and mic stands. Funk cover bands tend to emulate the genre’s gritty, thick and masculine qualities. The Prophets made the funk sound posh and coy. They made all the grunts into moans and the slap bass into caress bass. The light, shy voice of their leading lady put an awkward, almost motherly comfort over otherwise dirty sex tunes. As they grooved on American soul classics I bobbed and swayed with the dedication of a child at a Disney on Ice performance. Every bass drum thump I matched with a footstep and every melodious twist I honored with a hand twirl or hip shake. Each moment was one of sincere revelation; “How can this sound so good?” I would ineloquently mutter to my friends almost every time a new song had reached the chorus.
At a jazz showcase common praise tends to come between ghandi glasses and a goatee and it usually revolves around the performers raw skills and undeniable abilities. People get so caught up in a musician’s aptitude, they forget to have fun or even forget to demand it! Most times, jazz enthusiasts are simply content with being impressed. The Soul Prophets of Amsterdam were not the most technically skilled band at the “Seven Bridges Jazz Festival”, but they were the coolest. With a new, sensitive, European funk sound The Prophets rebelled against the traditional monochrome nature of Jazz festivals. I for one would take up arms for this revolution.