Inspired by Bonner’s exploration of black mysticism in her recent art exhibit A Time for New Dreams, the event’s lineup presented a hand-picked but widespread survey of spirituality across various genres. Through their sets, Solange, Laraaji, Standing on the Corner, and Gil Scott-Heron collaborator Brian Jackson each presented ideas about ritual, religion, and community.
An eclectic crowd consisting of Solange devotees, artists within the singer’s own orbit (Dev Hynes, Moses Sumney), neon-haired youths, and folks from the fashion world (like designer Telfar Clemens) all lined up around Saint Peter’s, a progressive Evangelical Lutheran church in Manhattan that moonlights as a jazz venue. With Solange’s new album, When I Get Home, coalescing around themes related to both Eastern and black spirituality, “Devotional Sound” seemed the ideal venue in some ways for her to premiere the songs live. But the event was not designed to be a Solange concert. Her performance was scheduled in the middle of the program, which allotted an equal amount of time for each set. In the age of celebrity worship, the audience seemed determined to give all their energy to Solange, instead of focusing their attention inward or on the other artists.
A bustling crowd filed into the small auditorium, with some attendees dropping off flowers on the orange shrine where the new age musician (and longtime student of Hindu spirituality) Laraaji would perform. The crowd seemed mismatched to the reverantial setting: I overheard two British guys loudly asking, “How do you spell Flo Rida?”; a lumbering Australian man stepped on the cushion-lined pews and literally walked over me to reach the next row. Once everyone was packed in, Laraaji began bowing his zither and a warm drone sound vibrated through the room. His rendition of the spiritual “This Little Light of Mine” weaved in some of his spoken-word musings: “Bring forth your clearest focus, here, now,” he hummed into the microphone. A few people really got into it—like the bald dude sprawled out on the floor, eyes closed and arms outstretched—but not everyone seemed swayed by Laraaji’s gentle guidance; some placed that focus on scrolling through their Twitter timelines. But in a rare moment of true communion, Laraaji instructed everyone to put one hand on their heart and the other on their abdomen, take a deep breath, and let out a “comfortable laugh.” The room filled with the sound of us, joy reverberating from the angular church walls.
Comments
Post a Comment