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Angelo Moore And John Norwood Fisher
Ladies and gentlemen, Fishbone came tonight for a naz-tee naz-tee show. They brought your fightin’ hos. They brought your lyin’ ass bitches. And yes, they brought your date rapin’ mutherfuckers. Here to fulfill all your skaaanking needs.
They started with their excellent later-date reggae Suffering, and the air was already electric. The crowd came ready, and with that kind of enthusiasm on a mid-tempo groover (but damn, it was a deeeeep groove), we knew this was something special. Dave leaned over and said “This is going to get insane in a second.” Dave was right.
Their timing was impeccable, with an extended jam on Everyday Sunshine getting a sizable and energetic pit going right away, and Ma and Pa just absolutely pummeling it home. It wasn’t just the song selection though; the full force of their unique Fishboney character and energy gave us a good wallop from note one, and had everyone grinning ear-to-ear. I could try to describe it to you, but better to just go listen to their first three or four records.
The Band Couldn't Stop Jumping Into The Crowd
Other classics included Cholly, I Wish I Had A Date, Skankin’ To The Beat, and the latter-day gem Alcoholic (that one complete with relatively recent addition Dre Gipson stumbling around in skillful minstrelsy pantomime–it looked like Asswhippin’ and Housework sound). And then a total boot to the head to close out with Lyin’ Ass Bitch and Party At Ground Zero, for which a chasm of dancing nearly 10 meters wide opened in the crowd, the likes of which I had not previously seen at the Red Marquee. I mean, you get maybe two or three meters all the time, but we’d had that since song two, and when Party started up it’s like everyone knew we had to take it whole ‘nuther level. It felt like a mass epileptic seizure. Dave said it’s the best he’s seen them since Paris in ‘92. Dave and me agree it’s our best of the fest.
It’s great to have Dirty Kibby (far left) back after seven years out; his inimitable growl is the perfect lascivious counterpoint to Moore’s carnival hucksterism, and hearing their two voices together fired up a latent Fishbone-shaped nodule in my subconscious that I didn’t know existed. They’ve still only got half the classic line-up (Norwood never left either), and they take crap for still using the name without Jones, Dowd and Fish. But it doesn’t matter. Music this good deserves to live, and performers this commited deserve to perform. If you have to co-opt the name to do it, then never mind the bollocks, let’s get down to it, man.
And yeah, they did play Let Dem Ho’s Fight (introduced with probably the filthiest story I’ve ever heard from a stage at Fuji Rock). I’m still not going to add it to my shuffle, but until we meet again Fishbone, until we meet again…
-Kern
photos by miyuki
[...] had yet to feel a drop. I was too tired and hungry and still coming down from my peak experience at Fishbone to join the dancing like I’d hoped, a move I didn’t regret until they played Wolcott to [...]