This Mall Ain't for Shopping

In my ‘hood, conservative administrations = amazing benefit/protest shows. There’s always something to fight about in D.C., whether it’s the lack of representative voting rights, or threats to overturn pro-choice laws or ill-planned wars. The punk movement usually organizes the show, and even though yesterday’s Operation Ceasefire represented a range of genres, the energy and ideals shared the energy and DIY enthusiasm of a punk show.

I arrived after the main march wrapped up, but thousands of people and an equal number of signs crowded the Mall. The schedule coincided with the “must-see” acts on the lineup: the Coup, The Evens, Ted Leo + Pharmacists, Head-Roc and Thievery Corporation. Sweet Honey and the Rock appeared in between the Coup and Ted Leo. Even thought the activist, acoustic group isn’t a favorite, I felt like I should watch because of their D.C. roots and Grammy-winning acclaim. Scores of speakers stepped on stage in between bands to remind everyone that even though this was a concert, the main theme must not be forgotten: the war is unjust, outrageously expensive and a catalyst for even further hatred of the U.S. Actually, those were sub-themes to the core goal of the day: to bring back the troops.

I’ll leave the analysis of whether the event worked, or will even be acknow-
ledged by the admin-
istration, to the thousands of political bloggers out there. I’m going to share the images from my mental scrapbook, which I hope is better at recording the scenes than my digicam. Even after I worked my way to the very front of the dense crowd (which was not hard to do – unlike a club show where every inch is preciously guarded space), so many of my shots were explosions of hot reds and blurred streaks. The ones I’ve posted are the best of a very weak bunch. I tried every combination of settings I could think – playing with exposure settings and ISOs and color clarity. Aaagh! I’d occasionally bring myself back to reality and say there’s time for learning how to operate this thing later – shoot a bit and focus on the messages from the speakers who’d lost children or the war veterans who’ve seen firsthand what’s going wrong.

Here’s what will stay with me:

The Coup getting the crowd moving with live drumming, great singing and deep bass. Awesome acoustic freestyle from the lead singer in his “Revolutionary Rock” Army shirt, a la the Clash.

The performance namechecked the urban poor in this country, the very people left behind by the administration during Katrina.

The nasally, well-fed Jello Biafra dropping various political science and introing the bands. He made Ian MacKaye squirm with an intro (I can’t remember what he said but I kept thinking about how those guys were making music years ago, and that Ian still has the drive and creativity to keep writing songs with a message – and an audience).

I’m lame for not having the Evens disc, but I definitely want after an inspired set. Ian taught the crowd an anti-cop chorus, which it eagerly sang along, spewed with rage during “All These Governers” and tried to calm everyone’s nerves by explaining that this administration, like others before it, will eventually be gone.

He’s seen plenty, but this time around it feels like the damage will be much harder to undo. So it was a nice thought from hard-core’s wizened spiritual leader, but the skeptics like me still worry. The D.C. theme was in full effect by this point, with Machetres, Sweet Honey and the Evens already on stage, and with former D.C. resident Ted Leo and full-timers Head-Roc and Thievery Corporation yet to come.

Ted was too fired up initially, and a malfunction with his guitar multiplied his tension. At one point he threw down his guitar in frustration, then picked it up and started retuning. A few minutes later he regained his composure and explained that the day was extremely emotional for him.

Not surprising because he draws his intensity and lyrics from a fiery rebellion against political improprieties, and he was devastated last November when Bush won the election. He recovered – albeit with another quick electrical short out – during “Timorous Me,” which he equated to the feeling of celebration at an Irish wake. He dropped the guitar completely for a wild version of “The Ballad of the Sin Eater.” Blasts of heaving bass notes flooded the air as Ted recounted the tale of hatred for Americans during a trans-continental journey. This was his moment, shared with crowd during the chorus of “And you didn't think they could hate you, now did you? Ah, but they hate you, they hate you 'coz you're guilty.” Freed from the guitar, he gripped the mic with both hands and banged it against his forehead. I wondered if he intentionally wanted to spill his own blood on a day to honor those who had nobly given theirs for a misguided cause.

Head-Roc may have done the most to make a name for himself. His set was tight, the politics righteous and the beats hot and loud. He and Noyeek the Grizzly Bear prowled the stage and came correct with stinging lyrics about racism and America’s history of inequality. Like the other groups on this night, he found the right balance between moving butts and expanding minds.

Thievery Corporation played 65 minutes of exhilarating and globetrotting dance music. This was the set I was waiting for: I’ve never seen the band (even though it recently played three nights in a row at 9:30 Club) and its founders are not only heavily political in their lyrics, but they helped to organize the show.

Eight musicians built layers of amazing textures throughout the set - Brazilian rhythms, Latin beats and freaky psychedelia (“Marching the Hate Machines Into the Sun”). This was the closest the night came to evolving into a dance party minus the political overtones, but if you check the lyrics on “The Cosmic Game” you’ll know otherwise. The stage was packed - two percussionists, a bassist responsible for the immense musical foundation, two guys with horns and a guy who switched between sitar and electric guitar accompanied TC’s main men – Rob and Eric, who operated a turntable, keyboards and other gear on a sleek platform with angled arms. Definitely something Doc Ock would’ve had in his million-dollar laboratory.

I loved the guest stars – amazing female vocalists and light-
ning-quick rappers and skankin’ Caribbean rudeboys. “Warning Shots” sent the crowd into convulsions, pogoing and chanting “One/And in comes the two and three and/One!” over and over.

The set ended at 11:05 and I trudged back to the Metro. Obviously some of the crowd came just for the music, like at any cause-based concert. (It was easy to spot them; they were the ones talking or even mocking the speakers in between the bands.) Those who paid attention knew that an all-day show would satisfy their hunger for great music, but it wouldn’t solve any problems. Thankfully the artists recognized they were just the catalyst, and the thousands in the crowd were the army that would have to mobilize and fight.