Stop wishing, Ahmad.

John Legend & The Roots - Wake Up!

(***Every Tuesday there will be a new album reviewed instead of the typical "where the old album fits into my life" thing; should that information ever become apparent for these new albums, it will be added then***)

A little while back (by the grace of a great birthday present), I was finally able to go see a show at Red Rocks. According to my cousin, "It could be a sociopath banging garbage cans with a golf club and, if it was at Red Rocks, it would be the greatest show you'd ever seen." Maybe true, but it's safer to see Buddy Guy, Al Green, and B.B. King.

The show was outstanding. Buddy Guy was what he is every other night at Legends: kind of gross for an old guy and still managing to teach Jimi Hendrix things. Al Green about changed my life. I could go on for pages about why his was one of the best performances I've ever experienced. But, suffice it to say that he was singing his songs (and did David Ruffin in there at least once) and, other than consistently saying hello only to "Denver!"and "Lakewood!", showed few signs of aging.

King was a different story altogether. Let me say first off that it's unforgivable that I hadn't seen him before that night, despite his being the most prolific tourer ever, and that I am grateful I got to before he's gone (there's no indication he'll stop playing music while he breathes). But, we're a long way from the Cook County jail. High (...er...) lights included: forgetting at least 30%of his lyrics, slurring 40% of the ones he remembered, and threatening to stab people in the audience two times. Rough to watch. But, he can still slide around the guitar reasonably well (by the standards he set), and his band is top notch. And that's THE thing.

Not B.B.'s weird, promised knifings. His band. And Al Green's band. And Buddy Guy's. It wasn't too long ago (you can find a substantial amount of 80's youtube videos) when amazing support bands were a requirement for a proper stage entrance. And the headliner would banter with them, or look their way and smile in the middle of a solo. To see that dynamic in that rocky, perfect-acoustics setting was something I've got to recommend.

But, when? On the way home (actually, a couple times while we were still at the venue) we talked about what happened to "the band." What happened to the showmanship? The entrance? How can I have this experience when Al Green wants to play places with less suburbs to remember, and B.B. King will likely be in the audience at Cook County soon? This morning you got another chance. Wake Up! is here.

I've always felt that Chicago and Philadelphia had a connection. Maybe it was because my good friend in high school was from Philly. Or because the same thing happened in college. And then again in college part II. Or maybe because, until pretty recently, we both had sports teams that people didn't much care for, and they lost a lot. Or because both cities hate New York. Whatever the reason, I often thought they might join forces. Chicadelphia, it would be called (easy, Philly...we're only first because Philicago sounds like a realtor who advertises on bus stop benches). And the combined population would reclaim the #2 spot in the country (gonna have to annex some more sprawl, cheaters). And the city would be to music what New Orleans was in the early jazz era. The uniqueness of Philadelphia (Hall and Oates, Ween, Dr. Dog, Billy Paul) and the Chicago concern (Common, Diverse, Copperpot, every blues musician who sang about struggle) would create a style that would probably be a little throw-backy, a little issue-driven, and really, really good.

John Legend and The Roots just did it. Hello, Chicadelphia. Meet the mayors. And they brought the band.

Legend shirked extra dancing for a piano. The Roots said, why not have a ton of real instruments in addition to a DJ? Wake Up! takes the traditionalism to it's logical next step. Both artists refuse to be shy about their roots without sacrificing ingenuity. From the first rattles on the ride, built up with a jumpy little organ and some classic vocal runs, through the pop of the horns and slapped electric bass, the first track is an arrival. It's hard to imagine a more perfect background for an announcer to introduce the crowd. That is, until you get to track two, which could definitely serve the same purpose. This was an album built to be toured on.

For the most part, Legend lassos his inner War, and Eric Burdon might actually wish he had this much emotion. The format could be described as funk-soul with frequent mix-ins of Black Thought's rap and some female back-ups. It's contemporary enough to be interesting, but most of this stuff could play on the radio 40 years ago. Especially "Wake Up Everybody," which features Melanie Fiona's Tammi Terrell to Legend's Marvin Gaye. Fellow Chicagoan Common seems to get caught up in the 70's spirit and has a melody in his voice that lightens his typically grave tone.

The one real divergence from the formula is a song called "Humanity." It's coincidentally the best track on the album. As ?uestlove proves that there is no beat beyond his ability, Legend makes his case as a reggae intoner. The result is the song Freddie McGregor was trying to put down when he recorded "Big Ship." Although "Humanity" is different enough to maybe even sound out of place, there is nothing about the song that suggests the group is trying to be artsy. It's less our-musicianship-knows-no-limits and more hey-it'd-be-fun-to-play-a-reggae-song.

And there's a message to the entire project (remember when music sometimes had a message for the group instead of the individual?). Yeah, for all intents and purposes it's just "Hey, let's get along and make the world right," but it's still pretty refreshing.

Don't expect more of the same on Wake Up! from either John Legend or The Roots. This is pretty close to a concept album. But, it's solid songwriting and it's catchy. And it paves the way for a hybrid city that values it's past, likes a performance, brings something new, and scares those two other cities a bit.