Maybe it was the pervasive smell of smoke in the air, or the psychedelic backdrops that sifted from Day-Glo colors to lava-lamp bubbles to surreal photos of targets. Perhaps it was the band’s clothes: a Hendrix headband, ponchos, ponytails. But it was mostly the music that gave this installment of Ben Harper and the Innocent Criminals’ near-yearly appearance at The Greek in Los Angeles an unmistakable ’60s feel.
More than even his contemporaries in the acoustic-jam circuit – names like Jack Johnson and G. Love come to mind – Harper is consistently able to find a balance between a good-time vibe (it doesn’t hurt that one of his most-loved songs is called “Burn One Down”) and optimistic political songs that feel hopeful rather than preachy.
In the past, strong as those songs sometimes were, his shows were often brought down by a lulling lack of energy. But this year, touring behind his career-best double disc “Both Sides of the Gun,” Harper’s gone through a radical transformation. It may seem obvious to those who don’t know his music, but it’s important: He’s decided to stand up, instead of sitting consistently at the lap steel that used to be permanently attached to his pelvis. And, though this performance didn’t touch his revelatory, show-stopping hour at this year’s KCRW Sounds Eclectic Evening, just that simple act of getting out of his chair was all that Harper needed to go from being good on record but not great live, to thoroughly compelling.
It’s a small thing, but it makes a world of difference. Though Harper still seemed reserved for the first quarter of this nearly two-hour show, by the show’s midsection (after a short, slow segment that included “Morning Yearning,” a beautiful strummer that still threatened to slow the pace of the show to a glacial rate) Harper was looking at the crowd, smiling – and inciting, diving into the pit, throwing his hands up and leading the crowd through solid, expressive sing-alongs, none of which felt gratuitous.
When he played “Black Rain” – his most incendiary, political new song, which begins “You left them swimming for their lives/down in New Orleans,” and continues thematically from there – it wasn’t just an empty plea but a call to revolution. And his ability to surround it with love-song nothings like “Steal My Kisses” without either tune sounding out of place leaves you pondering whether his fans are even paying attention to his lyrics – and, more importantly, whether that matters at all.
Since Harper’s music is nothing if not derivative – songs fall out of the playbooks of everyone from The Black Crowes (“Get it Like You Like It”) to Bob Marley (“My Own Two Hands”) – it takes personality to sell, and it’s a pleasure to watch Harper, who at 38 years old has been doing this for well over a decade, finally get comfortable being a frontman. It also allows you to take him seriously as an artist.
By the time the solo-acoustic encores rolled around, it was no longer a drag to take a breather and have a seat along with Harper, watching him invest himself in campfire ballads and slide-guitar instrumentals. Rather, it was just as interesting as watching him scream through the barn-burner (and show-closer) “Better Way,” a surefire sign that Harper’s newfound maturity isn’t just a temporary side-product of taking a stand – literally and figuratively.
