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I'll admit it...I had certain expectations. Being a bass player for the last 15 years, and guitarist for the last 35 years, I know a little about the instrument and the music. I wore out (as much as you can with a CD) my copy of "The Sun Don't Lie", so I know MM's tone and tunes and musicality very well. But nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to witness.
Marcus Miller in Europe, 2005. Photo by Daniel O. From marcusmiller.com
No, it wasn't the vast technical chops (he's got them). No, it wasn't the wonderfully inventive arrangements of cover tunes like "Power of Soul", "Boogie on Reggae Woman", and "Moonlight Sonata", or the rearrangement of his own work like "Panther". Rather is was a stark set of moments during the encore, with MM singing "Silver Rain." Luckily for me I had never heard the tune before that evening, and there is something about witnessing music live "for the first time." No preconceived notions. No expectations. At the moment, I didn't realize it, but my life had been changed yet again by music.
Let me rewind. Tuesday night, October 26th 2005, Royce Hall at UCLA. Lalah Hathaway opened the show with smooth, sultry yet playful style. Her band solid, her voice stunning, sweet, and husky all at the same time. Her original tunes got huge responses from a large portion of the audience that obviously knew her material and were there to see her. To me the high points included her take on classics like "Summertime" and "Yesterday." But it was when she sat down at the piano and played "Boston" that the skies opened up for me. Maybe it was because my last band had two ex-Berklee players, and there were some ghosts from Boston that haunted the band, in part leading to the breakup. But whatever the reason, Lalah's soft power shone brightly behind the keys.
All well and good, but I was there to see Marcus. Never having seen him play live I was expecting prodigious chops to fall from the heavens and inspire me to simultaneously practice 8 hours a day and alternativley burn my instrument since it would be pointless. Jeff Beck had that impact on me after seeing him in 1980 for the "There and Back" tour. But I digress...
The band opened with "Bruce Lee" off the new album. Typical MM, if there is such a thing: fat groove, little twists, fun interplay between the horns and rhythm section. At this point I knew it was going to be a great show, but still I had no idea exactly how great, or how/when I'd be touched by it. I won't go into the details on the rest of the numbers, but suffice it to say that each was brilliant in its own right. "Boogie on Reggae Woman" was funky, "Moonlight Sonata" was unexpected and at times subtle, "Power of Soul" was channeling Jimi, but not the parts you'd think. For me, the surprise of the set was "Make Up My Mind." MM played bass clarinet on it, and the tune is a sweet waltz that is reminiscent of "Blue in Green", at least in the vibe (Miles lives!). "Panther" made an appearance, with a great twist on it...just close enough to the original to be recognizable, but thoroughly new and enjoyable to me (who had listened to Panther hundreds of times over the years).
The set closed with "Frankenstein", and MM's intro got a few laughs from those of us old enough to know. He said, "this is a song from 1971, so if you recognize it maybe you don't want to admit it." It kicked major ass. A bit slower than the original (Edgar Winter Group) version, it was thick, funky, sweet syrup with some powdered lightning.
The band was great (Keith Anderson on saxophones, Poogie Bell on drums, Dean Brown on guitar, Bobby Sparks on keyboards, Doug Epting on sampler and bass, and Patches Stewart on trumpet and vocoder). Dean Brown was perfectly spastic, stomping around providing guitar pyrotechnics when needed. And how could you not need them on tunes like "Power of Soul" and "Frankenstein"? Poogie Bell managed to actually make it rain silver (more on that in a minute), Anderson blew hard (in a good way), and Bobby Sparks was scowling the whole night, but playing sick riffs on every keyboard he had. But Patches Stewart was the king of the night imho. He blazed when it was called for, was quiet when it required it, and was sublime all the rest of the time. He just floated in, on, and around the tunes perfectly.
Marcus and Patches Stewart, Europe 2005. Photo by Daniel O, from marcusmiller.com
So that was it...Frankenstein was the whamma-jamma closer tune, the audience was happy, the band left the stage. Would there be an encore? Yeah, probably...even though this was a typical somewhat lame LA crowd (that's a whole 'nother essay). But the crowd stayed standing, and back they came. I was wondering what they'd do to top the set...tough act to follow. They start into a reggae beat that is funkier than any Marley tune I've ever heard, with a delicious bass line (played by Doug Epting). As the band settles into the tune, that I've never heard...I did not have the new album, MM heads to the mic...to sing. The song, which turns out to be the title track from the new album, "Silver Rain", is beautiful. Uplifting, tender, with a touch of pathos. MM's singing is just there...not over-wrought, not weak, not overpowering. Rather, is felt like it came from the heart, and a place of happiness, experience, and peace. The band went through the solos, and too soon the tune was winding down.
Then the players started being "sent off" after playing their solo and/or trading licks with MM. Now I've seen this done at shows before, and frankly it usually comes off as contrived and staged. But in this case, it was enchanting and totally appropriate. I reflected back to a point during "Made up My Mind" where I noted that each player was in his own "space", yet the music was totally together. Each finding a sonic niche to inhabit, intertwining with the others, but also totally their own. So here we were in the encore, and as each took their turn, their instrument eventually went quiet, and they left the stage.
Soon it was down to two basses and drums. Doug Epting was on bass so MM could focus on vocals and also the lead lines for the track. At that point I started to feel sorry for Epting. I mean, a cutting session with MM? But he held his own, and MM was gracious and playful. The three of them made a wonderful racket. And it was at that point that it started to rain. Silver Rain. Poogie Bell was making it rain, and it was beautiful. Eventually Epting departed and it was MM and Poogie. The drums dropped way down, MM sang the tag lines out:
can you feel it? come on and dance in the silver rain
its gonna be allright, tomorrow you'll live your dreams in the sunlight
can you feel it? reach up and touch the silver rain
make you feel brand new, the silver rains is falling
let it get all over you
It was at that point that the healing was complete. I didn't realize it until the next day, but MM had healed me right there and then. It was just him, his bass, light drums, and his honest plaintive voice singing from his heart. With a smile on his face, he was the saviour baring himself for us, and providing a shower of beauty. Not in the pyrotechnics. Not in the chops. Not in the complex melodies and chords, but in a simple vocal line sung from the heart.
I went to the iTunes Music Store and bought the album first thing the next morning. I listened to every track, but especially "Silver Rain." The track that touched me. The track that healed me. On the album Eric Clapton sings the lead vocal. I have a long, wonderful history with EC dating back to my early years when I would play my guitar for 6 hours a day learning tracks from "Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs" note for note. Listening to the album version brought me back to the healing. It was different, and hinted and what MM provided there live, in the moment. You can never relive the moment, but you can get close, and find the feelings that were rushing through you and the music that was washing over you. And see how it speaks to you in the here and now.
I have listened to the track well over 100 times in five days. Crazy? Maybe...I've been called worse. But instead, it is just another bit of healing taking place. I'm back working on my chops, moving forward on a number of fronts where I was hopelessly stymied, and venturing off into the unknown (for me). Leaning into my sharp points as the Buddhists say. And the silver rain is with me. Pushing me, pulling me, washing over me. I let it get all over me. You should let it get all over you.
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