- About halfway through a stomping rendition of "Chemistry" at Theo Parrish's live show on Saturday, the entire crowd stood up and started dancing, as if an electrical current had surged through the room. London's Barbican Centre isn't the most natural place for people to shed their inhibitions, but some cajoling from the four dancers onstage, as well as Parrish himself did the trick. "We're here to get down with you, not for you," Parrish said.
By this point the band, Teddy's Get Down, had already worked their way through renditions of Brass Construction's "Top Of The World" and Parrish's own "Sky Walking." But it was "Chemistry" that dragged the crowd to its feet. The dancers were vital ingredients in the show: they controlled the crowd's mood, drawing cheers and applause every time they left the stage for a break. A languid version of "Soul Control" followed "Chemistry," before Parrish debuted a cut from his forthcoming album, American Intelligence, that he cowrote with Marcellus Pittman. "You're still on your feet, that's amazing," Parrish said, sounding genuine. He was in a playful mood during "Changes," theatrically dispensing with his bucket hat.
A breathless solo from drummer Myele Manzanza signaled the beginning of "Solitary Flight." This was the show's high point—a room full of people getting down to a Sound Signature classic. Now running at full tilt, the band played Parrish's new single, "Footwork." Everything about it—the vocals, the instruments, the dancing—felt like a battle cry in Parrish's war against the mundane. The crowd demanded an encore. The band and dancers returned, drenched in sweat, and covered Skye's "Ain't No Need," a track Parrish says he "bit" from fellow selector Sadar Bahar. "This is our feeble attempt to recreate that record," he said. It was anything but feeble, an unashamedly feel-good slice of live disco.
I heard vague pre- and post-gig murmurings from people evidently troubled by acid jazz flashbacks. That's probably inevitable. But it's 2014, not 1991, and the jazz-influenced electronic band circuit is hardly saturated. Plus, Parrish has an oeuvre ripe for live interpretation. The band is tight and full of characters (Amp Fiddler almost got a bigger reception than Parrish). The show isn't without its flaws: there was the odd awkward silence, Parrish's onstage banter was often indecipherable, and at times they relied too much on the bellowing of singer Ideeyah to fill the room. But Parrish has built his style around the artful sampling of live instrumentation—piano refrains, jazz drumming, vocals, and so on—and this performance had the pleasing feeling of something coming full circle.