SOUNDTRACK: BLACK PUMAS-Tiny Desk (Home) Concert #122 (December 7, 2020).
After hearing a couple of Black Pumas songs on WXPN, I had to get the album. They played such an interesting and catchy style of “gritty, retro soul.”
I was pretty happy for them when the were nominated for a bunch of Grammies. Then S. and I were laughing because so many people we knew (who follow pop music) had never heard of them. So I guess they are quite the niche band. But I’m glad to have heard them. And I’m glad they get the Tiny Desk Home Concert.
The Austin-based rock band Black Pumas is having a good 2020. The group, led by singer Eric Burton and guitarist Adrian Quesada, was just nominated for three Grammys, including album of the year for Black Pumas (Deluxe Edition), and both record of the year and best American roots performance for the track “Colors.” The band’s turn behind a tiny desk (and chair) shows why its debut album — now more than a year old — is receiving so much recognition right now.
The band is socially distanced in a studio with singer Eric Burton in a bad ass leather jacket up front.
Behind him are terrific backing singers Lauren Cervantes and Angela Miller.
Then, masked in the back row are guitarist Adrian Quesada, drummer Steve Bidwell bassist, Brendan Bond and keyboardist JaRon Marshall.
They play four songs and
the intensity level builds gradually throughout this four-song set. It’s clear why the band’s live shows have won over fans. From the opening strains of “Red Rover,” Burton digs deep and by the time we get to the ballad “OCT 33,” he’s burning with old-school soul heartbreak.
“Red Rover” is on the second disc of the deluxe edition, so I wasn’t as familiar with it. But it’s got a nifty wah wah and echoed guitar solo from Quesada.
Up next is “Fire.” Burton grabs a guitar as a keyboard melody opens the song. Quesada plays a cool surf riff and then Burton takes over the vocals. His voice is outstanding and this song is crazy cathy (the backing vocals are just icing on the cake). When Burton sings a note mid song and kicks it even higher, his hat falls off–that’s the kind of intensity they bring.
Burton opens “OCT 33” with a soft, echoing guitar melody. It’s simple but instantly grabbing. He starts to sing as bass is added. The song slowly builds over the length of it to a wonderful moment mid song where Burton sings and Quesada plays a ripping fuzzy guitar solo.
They end with the wonderful “Colors.” An echoing, instantly memorable guitar lick opens the song. Burton’s voice sounds fantastic as he sings. I love the “doo doo doo doo” part in the middle and JaRon’s extended old soul-sounding organ solo is a fantastic treat.
The Pumas are probably my favorite new band of 2020.
[READ: January 3, 2021] “Rwanda”
I’ve really had a hard time getting into Wideman’s stories in the past. I don’t like his writing style and I often feel like I know what’s going on until he starts to get really elliptical and he loses me. I feel like this is a failing on my part, but who knows.
This story is told in four parts.
Part I
The narrator asks his niece (and us) a thought experiment. If you were in charge of running the world and you learned that life on earth was going to end shortly (6 months at most) would you tell the public?
Wideman ties the story to what’s happening in the world.
What if this deadly plague meant that all life would soon end. Would they tell us? How would people react? Would people freak out and go crazy–everyone for himself, or would some carry on as normal?
One thing I’ve always hated about Wideman’s writing is his fragmentation. It drives me nuts. It continues here.
Sentences like
Knowing the end on its way…
Can’t you just put that “is” in there?
Then we get to the title
Rwanda a country whose authorities announced the end of the world coming immediately.
Ugh.
The point being that officials in Rwanda announced that life would be over unless certain Rwandans were removed immediately.
An old colored man was summoned by Rwandan Officials. He is convinced of colored people’s worthlessness. He is a traitor.
When he returned home the narrator says he watched the old man undress–waited outside his window and studied him–because he fears him.
I’m honestly unclear if this is real or metaphorical.
Part II
The man is walking around Harlem where he sees a book on the ground. He had noticed it for the last few days and finally decided to look at it. The title was Snow. He happened to read this book by a famous Turkish writer many years ago. Although he couldn’t remember any details.
Will he ever be able to describe the complicity of inhabiting a world that holds his imprisoned brother, and holds another who is a prison?
Part III
The narrator’s brother has been denied parole for the fifth year in a row after twenty five years in prison.
He’s talking to his brother about a project to teach preschool kids to read in a laundromat. It’s just another Band-Aid approach:
kids spozed to be learning to read inside some ugly fuck… damn laundromat in a raggedy-ass neighborhood
As if it’s the best school the richest country on earth can afford for them.
Part IV
He asked his niece “do you believe you’re colored?”
A serious question Do you, me, we, all of us still believe we are colored just because they keep telling us we are. Colored. Different. A damned shame.
Things turn briefly sexual as he thinks about his niece’s guy Riley. Riley says things like Gimme some. Get me some. Cop me a piece of pussy.
What in the world do they think we carry around down there between our legs, her mom asked once, think we can break off and wrap it up and send it home with them or they can grab and show off to their friends
In the nd she turned the rhetorical question on him. And his answer was one that the niece thought was just teasing.
I found so much of this story interesting and engaging, but he keep losing me with asides that I didn’t know how to take.
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