Wild Night

The place was dark and the DJ was spinning, framed in the back light of an illuminated photograph below the one of Joe Papp getting ready to step out with or without his baby. I don't know what was happening backstage, what one does to prepare for an extended groove, but I imagine it involves a lot of closing your eyes and slow shoulder shimmying. When the band took the stage and the exotic dancer began grinding next to me, twirling her boa like an invitation, it occurred to me: more performers should have strippers.

Meshell Ndegeocello loves me.

I know this because she came out and began chanting "I love You" like a mantra doubling as a test balloon. Seems she wanted the lights dimmer and the mood smoother. She may not have looked sultry in the knit cap and the over-sized shorts and jacket, but who needs to go the extra mile when you've got a dancer grinding on you and working the crowd? And sultry doesn't have to do with fashion when it comes to the bass anyway.

Now, she didn't pick up the bass often and she wasn't there to sing song after song like this was your typical concert. In fact, it seemed to me she was more interested in orchestrating a vibe and keeping it going. When she reached the end of her set, she just looked out as if her job was done and told us to "go home and have sex."