The Reverend
and the Upsetter

by JACK OATMON

If you were in Memphis, Tennessee this weekend, or any weekend, and you needed to experience something uplifting that would bring you closer to one of the funkiest men ever to have lived, you could visit the Full Gospel Tabernacle for their regular 11:30 a.m. service. No. I did not, nor will I ever confess Jesus Christ as my personal saviour and begin to receive his bountiful blessings—Jesus was not funky. In fact, coming from a totally secular family, my Sundays since I was a child have always been about cleaning up the house, chopping wood, sweating it out on the basketball court or on the skateboard, and listening to records with my parents. Pretty much the precise opposite of the restful, pious behavior of the saved, God bless them.

But I do have something very important in common with the Full Gospel Tabernacle procession, and that’s listening to my man, the Reverend Al Green, singing it straight up to the heavens every Sunday. My dad’s favourite musician is Al Green, so I got that cat with breakfast religiously every Sunday, before going out to mow the lawn and come back in to catch whatever NBA or university b-ball game was on. And the Reverend himself still presides as pastor over his church in Memphis to this day. I couldn’t be more jealous of the folks there who get to hear his soothing voice live, every week. Heck, he might just be the biggest early influence on my musical tastes and appreciation.

He might be, if it weren’t for dub reggae’s founding figure Lee “Scratch” Perry, who totally rewired my mind for music. You know the story. You read the liner notes on your scummy, hand-me-down Clash records as a teen, you notice the name and get a copy of Battle of Armagideon off some hippie you know, you smoke a little of the collie weed and off you go. Next it’s King Tubby, and sooner or later you’re spending hours a day listening to repetitive, psychedelic beats.

So last weekend, when my good buddy Neil and I perused the line-up for this year’s Jazz Fest and noticed Lee Perry’s name on the bill, well, we freaked. There was girlish squealing, hugging and jumping up and down for minutes. Then we took another look and saw Al Green on there too. I had to call home and tell my old man. So, the point here is that fucking Al Green and Lee Perry are coming to town this summer! Get psyched.

In other warm weather news, the city’s best weekly party, Piknic Électronik, starts back up this Sunday in Parc Jean-Drapeau. The first edition features Zip from Germany and local housemeisters MightyKat and Guillaume and the Coutu Dumonts. The price is up a couple of bucks this year, but still more than worth it at $10 for a full day of topnotch DJs from all over the place, and this summer’s programming is as cool as ever, so stay tuned. Also, in the interests of keeping the park cleaner, the people at Piknic are offering some little discounts at the bar for people who bring their own travel mug.

WHICH WAY TO THE WITCH DOCTOR?
jack.oatmon@gmail.com