The Sound Of Sunshine ~ Michael Franti and Spearhead, Bluesfest 2014

Isn’t it funny how we experience a “kinship” with identities whose views and/or behaviour we admire? And, how we feel a “connection” with personalities whose faces are visible in the media or whose opus with which we are familiar? We “know” these people – even though they have no idea who we are.

Music is so evocative that its is no surprise that – although it is a very public medium – it speaks to us at a very private level; particularly if it is music with a message with which we identify. Certainly, music speaks to a time and place, and we often know exactly where we were or who we were with when we first heard a particular song or band.

I confess: I don’t listen to the radio much, unless I am in the car driving. And, I’m more likely to listen to news, views, and music I am familiar with, than I am to listen to anything avant-garde. It is not the norm for me to be up with trends until they are tried-and-true (i.e., no longer trendy!). So, it was pretty unusual for me to be hunting down a band that wasn’t across every bodies lips in 1994, after hearing a short snatch of song that had come through on a clock-radio – tuned to Triple J, an Australian platform for new music – before it turned itself off for the night.

(Double click for the audio clip: Hole in the Bucket, from the 1994 Spearhead album Home.

I was captured by both the tune and the clever lyrics. It was a sort of reggae-rap; again, not my normal fare. My mental associations with the lyrics, as happens with a good poem, shot off in a non-linear manner, connecting to all kinds of images and memories.

The track’s chorus comprises the traditional children’s song: “There’s a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza….” Harry Belafonte’s well-known 1961 rendition of this song was on one of the very-few non-symphonic, non-operatic LPs that I had access to as a child. Later, as a young adult, I saw Belafonte perform it live in concert. So, hearing the refrain embedded in a rap song – about a man deciding whether or not to give spare change to an indigent beggar on the street corner – got my attention.

The song is called “Hole in the Bucket”, as I discovered after trying to hum a few bars to the owner-operator of a local independent record store (Do you remember those?). He was able to point me to the disc: Home, the first studio album by Spearhead, Michael Franti’s (then) newly formed band.

I fell in love with the whole album. Whether it is a well-written book or a skillful lyric, I am easily seduced by artfully-crafted words – and the words on that album are adroitly composed: sharp and insightful, with enough honesty to stop short of being maudlin, and enough empathy to keep from being just clever.

“I’m not responsible for the man’s depression
how can I find compassion in the midst of recession?”

In 2000, I dragged a girlfriend out to a Sydney nightclub because Michael Franti and Spearhead were playing. We were amongst the oldest fans at the venue, and were flattered and amused (even though we knew the bouncers were kidding) when we were age-carded at the door. The band were on their third album by then, but had lost none of their energy, or social consciousness. The political messages – and the warm humanity – were still in evidence.

That was a long time ago, and we’ve all grown older since then. But, unlike many of us who become more cynical with age, Franti seems to have retained – and expanded upon – his positive energy. In the intervening years, he has written a children’s book on recycling, helped fund a birthing centre in Bali, produced an award-winning documentary on the effects of war in the Middle East, and sponsored and promoted various fair-trade, whole food, and healthy lifestyle endeavours.

I was thrilled to see that Spearhead, now on their eighth studio album, were on the Byron Bay Bluesfest 2014 lineup. Rolling Stone agrees that Michael has mellowed, and his “formative punk rap … [has] veered toward full-on jam pop.” But, the review of the “All People” album continues: “Well-crafted, unfailingly likable, the music hints at his activist-sage roots; check out the apocalypse-minded, Matrix-produced rap-along “11:59.” For those who plan to go down dancing, he’s a solid man to have on the mic.”

I can’t argue with that! His Sunday night set in the Crossroads tent was one long party.

Happy music with positive messages –

How could you help but leave smiling?

Pictures: 20April2014