Funkin’ the plaza

The beats were bumpin', the bass was thumpin’ and DJ Mantis was in the middle of a fleet-fingered exhibition of scratchin’ technique, coaxing a nearly melodic rhythmic pattern out of his dual turntables, as I wandered into the park early Saturday evening. Heathakilla and Shecklove, aka the Becky Sagers, were working the mics along with guest MC FayDog, and toddlers, hippies and punks were getting jiggy on the concrete in front of the truncated gazebo that now serves as a bandstand.

It was as beatific a scene as anyone could hope for or imagine, and the BS posse worked it for all it was worth, giving up the love in celebration of Fathers Day by having Shecklove’s dad, percussionist Jerry Morano (of Spark ‘n’ Cinder fame), join the band for a jam that also included Sheck’s little daughter on the stage for a spin with her dad.

Anyone who thinks the Music Revolution is just a bunch of punks making noise and trying to tear down society would have to do a bit of rethinking after witnessing the display of family values and community cohesion on and off the stage at this show. They even edited the “mother-[unh-uh]"s out of the raunchier lyrics in deference to the kids in the audience, for goodness’ sake.

Of course this refreshing blast of youthful bonhomie was counter-balanced just a tiny bit by the arrival on stage of the next act, the self-defined “sexy, dangerous, creepy and old” Black Fong. Led by trench-coated, leopard-leotarded vocalist extraordinaire Jack Dammit, the octet blazed through a set of old school R&B, ska and Motown covers propelled by the sinuously pulsating bass of the hyperkinetic Jeffy B and the tight, funky drumming of Chazmo. With two guitars, percussion, keyboards and the brilliant sax of Feeny providing a variegated wall of sound, Black Fong provided the perfect soundtrack to a revolutionary party.

And promoter DNA redistributed the wealth by passing out cool raffle prizes after the bands got done. Now that’s a sweet revolution.