I’m starting my fourth hour of dancing in less than two days. My feet should be aching but they're not. When the Philadelphia Funk Authority starts their final set of Musikfest, I am back on my feet, jockeying for position on the dance floor. I know from last night's gig that, if I don’t get up there now, there won’t be room for me.
George, usually the drummer, has come to the front of the stage for a song or two. Peter Gabriel’s “Sledgehammer.” He’s a manic performer who knows how to work a crowd. The brass is bringing it. And we’re all singing it.
We’re so loud that—we find out later—the band can hear us up on stage. And they’re floored. It’s a perfect symbiosis of performer and audience. I turn away from the stage for a second. Even the thousand or so people in seats behind us, though not on their feet, are still bobbing their heads, swaying a little. It’s barely perceptible in some, but it’s there.
Groovy.
A big Thank You to Bruce Press for a. taking such awesome photos and b. for letting me use this one in my blog post. You rock, Icepick!
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