Spearhead Is Da Shit

They funked us, yes they did. Photo by Apple staff photographer.

11:16 PM. So these like Zulu dudes in loin

clothes and

carrying talking drums or something equally out-of-place in 1995 San Francisco

go running by me, heading for God knows where. As it gets later and later, the

masses of tuxedo-clad people who each paid $72.50 to be here seem to be

disintegrating. What I mean to say is that men and women who were once

well-behaved are now fast approaching an animal state in which they are mauling

each other, draining huge plastic cups of beer, ingesting handfuls of strange

pills (hey, not really), and getting way, way out there.

Just getting back

into the "Alive" tent again means risking life and limb, but as it is my duty

to get into that tent in order to bring you a report on the state of Spearhead,

1995, I am doing just that, pushing my way past all manner of bobbing and

weaving Spearhead fans. And there are lots and lots of them. In fact, the tend

is totally jammed with Spearhead heads.

By the time I'm up front, Michael

Franti and his rather flamboyant crew are doing "It's A Crime To Be Black In

America." Franti is jumping up and down as if on a trampoline, which is what he

tends to do as he gets more and more excited. And he gets very excited as the

set progresses. Spearhead are Franti's answer to Parliament-Funkadelic, if

P-Funk had lived in Jamaica for about five years and were young enough to have

grown up on rap.

Franti has thick dreadlocks. He's tall and thin, wears

baggy green army-style pants and a short-sleeved B-Boy shirt. To say that he

sees the world in political terms, is to say it like it is. For example, the

lyrics to "It's A Crime To Be Black In America" include the lines, "It's a

crime to be black in America, it's a crime to be a Mexican in America, it's a

crime to be a woman in America, it's a crime to smoke weed in America." Get the

idea? And, by the way, that last line elicited a massive roar from the crowd

who seemed to be indicating that it should not be a crime to smoke weed in

America.

The very make-up and look of Spearhead is a political statement.

Franti's got a female keyboard player and a female singer. Everyone in the band

is black. He's got this one dude in long African robes who looks like a rasta

George Clinton who is called Ras I Zulu. I kid you not. Mr. Zulu seems to

mostly be there to add a certain ambiance to the show. While he occasionally

delivers these rasta rants, more often he bobs and weaves in time to the

rhythm, drifting back and forth across the stage, behind Franti.

For those

familiar with Spearhead's material, among the selections they performed were:

"Piece O' Peace," "Where The Love Goes," "Red Beans & Rice," "Dream Team,"

"Slave Ship," "Love Is Da Shit" and "Hole In The Bucket." And no, this was not

a lesson in Black history. Well, actually, it was, but it was also a totally

great party.

When Spearhead get a reggae groove going, you are gone. Carl

Young is a mega-bassist and in tandem with drummer James Gray, you can almost

smell the ganja. Hey, that is some ganja that that dude to the left of me is

smoking.

Bottom line is that Spearhead are probably the funkiest thing

happening here, with maybe the exception of War, who are also pretty damn

funky.

And although I would love to stick around to provide you with more

Spearhead details, it's time to seek out the Gin

Blossoms.

Later.