On the way to Matisyahu

Photo taken in route to Matisyahu concert.

I took my son to his first concert last Wednesday at the Greek Theater in Los Angeles. My son is 11 and just the right age to expose him to high quality live music. We saw Matisyahu and Michael Franti & Sprearhead. The show was outstanding. There is nothing like a mixture of a Hasidic Jewish crowd, middle class parents with their kids, the ususal posers, and Rastafarians. The mix of cultures was unlike anything I had ever experience before. We had a blast.

Michael Franti was unknown to me. I had heard a few of his songs on KCRW, but did not know much about his music. I loved what I heard, even if the anti-war slant did not play well to the audience. I will be adding him to my music rotation, I thought his music would be a great add to my reggae collection. My son slept through most of Franti’s set. Several bystanders snapped pics of him with their cell phones, so I am sure he is on the net somewhere.

Intermission was covered by the Street Drum Corps – it was painful.

The main act, Matisyahu was outstanding. I’ve been a fan for a few months already and had been looking forward to the show. He did not disappoint. If you would like a more in depth analysis, checkout Pastor Brad’s post, he and I went together with our sons.

I watched my sons eyes light up as he took in the spectacle. The lighting was amazing, the music moving. For a brief time, my son and I held hands and just grooved on the experience. (he’s 11 so he will still holds dad’s hand in public). I can only say that for me the night was all about my son experiencing the joy of live music. I will never forget it.

I should note here that the first concert I took my other son to was MC Hammer and his crew in Long Beach. That’s right, hammer time! Vanilla Ice was supposed to perform, but he cancelled. Like Matisyahu, the experience of taking my son to MC Hammer, despite my distaste for his music, is a memory I will cherish the rest of my life. There is something about music that moves the soul (or in my case, that inner me thingy). I miss my older son, he is out of the house and on his own now. Sometimes, I miss him so bad it hurts – now, where did I put that MC Hammer tape?

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