Seriously, we’re not making this up. This 1990 hit was one of the highlights of the flawed KS-107.5 Old School Freestyle Explosion. File photo.
I almost didn’t write this review. I almost wrote to my editors and proclaimed my defeat to the worst show I’d witnessed all summer long. But instead, I decided it was more important to tell the tale of the train wreck concert I witnessed at Fiddler’s Green on Friday night.
In a grossly inadequate nod to the R&B genre of Talk Boxes and synthesizers past, Friday nightap Old School Freestyle Explosion was a disaster of epic proportions. Freestyle, a subgenre that surfaced in the mid-80s, merged traditional Latin instrument sounds and vocals with pop-friendly electronic beats, the style pulled from scenes primarily out of New York City and Miami. One of the biggest stars of freestyle was the evening’s headliner and the man behind me and my best friend Randy’s favorite roller skating jam of all time, “Spring Love.”
Wrapped in ponchos and gripping the pocket warmers in our jackets, we sat on beach towels covering our seats, determined to hear the songs of our tweenage and subsequent teenage pasts. Stoked to see Stevie, Lisa Lisa (and Cult Jam), Tone Loc and others perform live. But what we got was the equivalent to low-rate cruise-ship entertainment, complete with lip-synching, tone-deaf performances and a sound system that seemed all but unmanned for most of the evening.
Arriving just after 8 p.m., I missed opener Nocera’s two songs. I’m guessing she performed a two-song set, because all eight performers following (minus Stevie B.) played only two to six songs each, I’m guessing in an effort to squeeze all acts in before the 11 p.m. venue noise curfew. Debbie Deb was next, and by evening’s end, proved to be the only talented singer left in the bunch. Deb wandered out, representing with giant hoop earrings and a blinged-out jersey on, and stepped her way through “Lookout Weekend,” and “I Hear Music.”
Next was Trinere, a singer from the Freestyle era I was unfamiliar with. She pranced about the stage for roughly seven minutes, quickly running through her two-track maximum with “I’ll Be All You Ever Need” and “They’re Playing Our Song.”
The more familiar early radio-rap star, Young MC, came next, fooling around and half-rapping to an unrecognizable song before tearing off his black shirt to reveal a number 7 Broncos jersey, spurring a combination of cheers and boos from the crowd. The audience proved more entertaining than Young MC’s sad version of “Bust a Move,” as two intoxicated girls a few rows in front of me rotated between dancing with each other, choking each other, falling down, and then repeating all three acts over the course of the evening. The only time the fighting/grooving stopped was when one would leave to get more beer.
Tone Loc came next, going straight into “Funky Cold Medina,” as his nameless cohort annoyingly shouted “Push em’ up! Push em’ up!” at the crowd, getting little response. Reminding us of his past success, Loc performed the once No. 1 hit, “Wild Thing,” the endearing creaky bed frame sounds booming through the PA, rows around me turning into human hump-trains.
Coolio followed, coming to the stage with his trademark crazy braids peeking out of the back of a baseball cap. The sound system failed him, dropping his “Fantastic Voyage” backing track so low it was barely audible, Coolio trying his best to dance his way through the mess. The PA came back to life when treble-injected gun shot sound effects pinged from the speakers, followed by an explosion sound and air horn warning to signal his other hit, “Gangster’s Paradise.” Coolio then incoherently (mostly due to the horrendous sound quality) babbled into the mic for a few minutes before leading his small entourage off stage.
Through the failing PA came Naughty By Nature, Treach and VinRock yelling into the mics from backstage while DJ KayGee attempted to warm up, sending streaks of words from the speakers that no one could understand. The DJ was visibly struggling with the sound until a crewmember finally came out and plugged in his turntables. The duo joined their DJ and began with “O.P.P.,” followed by a few unrecognizable clips that led into snippets of Tupac classic, “ I Get Around.” Treach poured some red party cup contents on his arm for his fallen friend, then led the audience through a minute or so of Slick Rick and Doug E. Fresh’s “La Di Da Di,” followed by a full version of “Feel Me Flow.”
Treach ripped his white tank top off, signaling the close of the set, and Naughty performed “Hip Hip Hooray,” as the house lights came on for an “intermission.” The crowd filled up on eight-dollar beers, and MC Magic began the second half of the show.
Formerly of Nasty Boy Klick and most recently, NB Ridaz, the Phoenix native came out looking clean in all white, taking his place behind a vintage Talk Box (which he bragged to be once owned by Talk Box enthusiasts Zapp and Roger.) Using his voice synthesizer as a pulpit, Magic dedicated the Ridaz hit “Pretty Girl” to his sexy MySpace lady-friends in the audience.
Joined on stage by a guest vocalist named Sophia Maria, the two sang “Lies,” Sophia’s voice coming through impressively well considering all of the technical problems. Magic did more storytelling than performing, which was disappointing considering he had three careers-worth of material to pull from. He left the stage (and he left a bad taste in my mouth) by forgoing the performance of the 1997 Nasty Boy Klick hit (and Randy and I’s high school cruising anthem) “Down For Yours.”
Without the presence of Cult Jam, Lisa Lisa came on stage with two back-up dancers instead, and a little bit of what sounded like either altitude sickness or a cold. She apologized for the mild illness and performed an off-key version of “I Wonder if I Take You Home.”
Dressed like the staff at a chain restaurant, Lisa’s back-up dancers grinded about the singer, legs kicking and neckties flying in the air as she sang a bottomed-out version of “Can You Feel the Beat Within My Heart.” (I partially attributed her vocals falling flat to the sound system, as all of the performers seemed to have trouble hearing themselves through the monitors.) Her dancers unnecessarily changed into gym attire for Lisa’s hollow renditions of “All Cried Out” and a finale medley of “Let the Beat Hit ‘Em,” “Head to Toe” and “Lost in Emotion.”
Finally, the end was in sight. Though the previous two-and-a-half hours bordered on painful, I was excited at the prospect of hearing the songs my 8-year-old heart had held so dear. Two gentlemen in white cut-off shirts and MC Hammer pants twirled and twisted about like almost-break dancers as Stevie B was ushered on stage, opening with “Party Your Body.”
Next came “Come with Me” and a shimmying Stevie sandwich materialized, his Hammer dancers acting as the bread. Singing over layers of recorded vocals, I was unsure if Stevie was actually singing. I won’t accuse a performer of lip-synching without concrete evidence, but Stevie’s vocals looked and sounded questionable; songs like “Dreaming of Love” and “I Wanna Be the One” obviously had back-up vocals preset, but Stevie just didn’t seem to cut it.
The pre-recorded 808 banged on and Stevie was joined by an unnamed rapper for an unrecognizable song, and then performed one of my personal favorites, “In My Eyes.” He teased the audience, pretending to leave mid-set, walking off stage momentarily before quickly returning for the cell-phone-as-torch love ballad “Because I Love You (the Postman Song).” He closed the 20-minute set with “Spring Love,” at which point I was singing so loud I no longer cared if Stevie really was or not. He gave his love to the audience, cupped his hand to wave goodbye and said goodnight to the crowd.
One redeeming act I failed to mention above was the squad of KS-107.5 DJs providing quick 2-minute spurts of entertainment throughout the evening. DJ Tony V had a running joke about Aqua Net hairspray and round hair brush usage that made the audience actually laugh, as he pulled these props from his big pockets and sprayed DJ Dizzy D and DJ Burhm Gotti. As a regular listener of 107.5, I appreciated the DJ staff’s genuine love for the music, and the fact that they are entertainers themselves, maybe even more so than some of the nightap “stars.”
The lack of action taken to fix the continual sound issues plaguing the show was annoying, as were the offensively puny two-song talent show performances by artists who should have quit a long time ago. I am a firm believer in doing what you love, but coming out of retirement when itap obvious the moment and talent have passed just isn’t fair to fans. I came to this show with my best friend expecting to have a blast reminiscing about our late-’80s childhoods through Skate City jams. Instead we witnessed a few too many retired one-trick ponies.
Bree Davies is a writer splitting her time between Denver and New York. She’s a regular contributor to Reverb.
