January 10, 2002 by A.S. Van Dorston

Every so often it seems that black artists are poised to reclaim rock music. Somewhere along the line, despite the pioneering work of Louis Jordan, Ray Charles, Fats Domino, Bo Diddley, Chuck Berry, Little Richard, Larry Williams and Screamin’ Jay Hawkins, it was somehow “decided” that rock ‘n’ roll was “white” (see Struggle For The Right To Rock: Racism, Corporate Liberalism, Cultural Hegemony & Black Music), and the only authentic “black” music was blues, jazz, soul, funk, r&b and later hip-hop. Despite Hendrix, The Isley Brothers and Funkadelic, rock became whiter than ever throughout the 70s, 80s and 90s. Anomalies like Bad Brains (rasta hardcore punk), Fishbone (ska, funk soul and later metal), Living Colour (the black Van Halen) and 24-7 Spyz (remember them?) were few and far between. While the Beastie Boys did an admirable job of integrating soul, funk and hip hop into rock, the vanilla, boring result was rap metal.

According to Mos Def (known for his solo and Black Star hip hop), Black Jack Johnson Project formed explicitly to show the punkass rap rockers how it’s really done. The black rock supergroup, along with Mos Def, includes Bernie Worrell (P-Funk, Talking Heads), Will Calhoun & Doug Wimbish (Living Colour), and Dr. Know (Bad Brains). I went to see them at Metro last night, hoping to be blown away by this dream-team lineup. Unfortunately, the packed house was subjected to, on a weeknight when early shows are expected to run on time to the dot, over an hour and a quarter wait. After standing for that long, staring at an empty stage, suffering from smoke and crowds, we were pissed, and expected to be rocked HARD. Instead, the band was utterly uninspiring. The first song was a sloppy, meandering pastiche based on Hendrix’s riff for “Power Of Love.” Only in the first song, Mos Def engaged in some ingratiating crowd banter, getting different sections to cheer. I wanted to shout “Fuck you, just fucking play!” but I was too far back to be heard. Aside from a few slips into Jamaican-style patois and a couple melodic phrases, Mos Def’s performance was the usual MC-ing. He’s no H.R., that’s for sure. The whole set in the first half hour was all covers, or loose jams that revisited fragments of rap songs, including the overdone “Rapper’s Delight.” Dr. Know was positively lethargic compared to his legendary performances with Bad Brains. The great Bernie Worrell added some nice keyboard riffs, but seemed pretty detached in the corner. The band is full of massive talent, but under-rehearsed. The energy level languished at about 4, and my friends couldn’t take it anymore. An hour of standing around, our drinks having settled, our energy was sapped, and the band had little to spare. So we left.

I never imagined I would leave such an interesting lineup early in the show. Yet while it was horribly disappointing, I can’t help but be optimistic that they have potential to do so much. By the end of the tour they will certainly be a tighter unit. But the question is — can they write songs? Without songs, they’ll just be a touring revival act. See them in their 2002 Summer County Fair tour! While we wait to see if Black Jack Johnson Project becomes a real band, let’s hope that The Neptunes, a.k.a. N*E*R*D, does a live tour. They were once, reportedly, in a band with Timbaland. Now that would be an interesting combination.

See a clip from Reverb, taped at Bowery Ballroom in NYC in October.

Posted in: Live, Reviews