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Antibalas
Waiting for Antibalas to perform, a small group of guys in their 20s was having a decidedly unacademic conversation about classic jazz artists. Their exchanges had the one-upping swagger of a sports-bar argument, and the vocabulary was more what you’d expect from, say, teenagers comparing video games. “Dude, Freddie,” one said, presumably talking about the great trumpeter Freddie Hubbard. His friend started going on about organist Larry Young. “That album — dude! It’s just retarded! Dude!” Then the conversation turned to Stan Getz and his last album. “Dude, that is the greatest album. And then he died, like, two months later.” “Dude!”
Hometown: Brooklyn, N.Y.
Venue: Antone’s, midnight Friday
Pre-show buzz: The next-best thing to the late Fela Kuti (well, maybe after his son Femi Kuti)
High point: Compelling polyrhythms, intricate, peppery horn arrangements and some intriguing, jazz-based saxophone solos.
Low point: A very late start because of the difficulty setting up sound for an 11-piece band. The sound directly in front of the stage was distorted — overamplified drumbeats felt like knife blades in the eardrums — although it was not bad off to the side.
Post-show buzz: After the long, hot wait for the band — so long one couple actually sat down on the sticky floor to rest — some of the crowd wilted or wearied before the end of the set. However, the (surprisingly young) audience seemed impressed.
Afterthoughts: The venue, with its narrow space in front of the stage, wasn’t really suited to a band that likes to fully engage everyone in the audience and get the whole crowd dancing.
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