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 "Dear Pharrell" Part One of my thoughts on the opening of the Sprite Liquid Mix Tour at Jones Beach, N.Y., on Aug. 20, 2002. By Tim Molloy  It's one of several times today that I've heard someone explain that even though they like someone's music and are going to their show, they aren't a fan, not like these thousands of other people. I'm not a fan either. I'm riding to the Sprite Liquid Mix Tour because that's what my brother Ted wants to do on his layover in New York City before he flies up to Syracuse to start college. Oh sure, I have a couple albums of the headliner, Jay-Z, and when I was Ted's age I even bought some records by the second-billed act, the band 311. And it's true that N.E.R.D., also playing today, is probably my favorite group out right now. But that doesn't mean I would ordinarily buy tickets to something sponsored by a soft drink, or that also features wack groups like Hoobastank. I'm expecting part of the entertainment of the day to come from making fun of the lamer performers. And I'm curious about whether anything good can come from something so infected with corny commercialism. In the interest of making myself feel superior to today's event, I resolve upon entering the Tommy Hilfiger at Jones Beach Theater to ask stupid questions all day. "Excuse me," I ask at Motorola's booth. "Is this where they're having the Freestyle Battle?" "Hmm, I don't think so," says the Motorola woman. "Try the DJ booth." I ask the guy behind the booth if this is where they're having the freestyle battle, the one at 5:15. "You mean like DJs? There's a DJ right here." "Nah, like emcees." "Hm. Well, I know there's DJs here. There's a DJ. Ask the DJ." We go to our seats, which turn out to be awesome. Jones Beach is a 15,000-plus seat venue but we are actually close enough to the stage to spit on Hoobastank. It's also immaculate and right on the water. I flip through the program we were handed at the door. I love programs because I'm really cheap and they make me feel like I'm getting something extra. There's a message from Gov. George Pataki on the first page inviting us to "sit back and enjoy a wonderful performance." Other recent Jones Beach concerts endorsed by Gov. Pataki include: -July 9: Poison with Cinderella, Winger, Faster Pussycat -July 14: Phil Lesh and Friends -Aug. 24: Jethro Tull with Suzanne Vega The show hasn't started yet so we again file out to explore the booths and side stage. We want to get back to see N.E.R.D., the side project of genius hip-hop production duo the Neptunes, which is made of Chad Hugo and Pharrell Williams. Though their studio wizardry is unparalleled, I'm really curious about whether they can pull off a live show. As we leave our row Ted spots a woman by the aisle writing a note. "Dear Pharrell," it begins. Not that she's a fan. We talk to a ticket taker about the name of the group. "Is it N-E-R-D or Nerd?" she asks. "My son says you have to pronounce it N-E-R-D." Me and my little brother say he's right. But feeling charitable, I add, "Of course, If you call yourself N.E.R.D., people are gonna call you Nerd." Like it's just human nature. By the food court is the "Stop Racism Booth," where you can learn about the evils of racism and sexism and buy merchandise like pins with crossed out swastikas. It's heartening that few if any Nazis are in attendance today. I pick up a free magazine at the booth because it has a conversation with members of the band Incubus about their "personal experiences with racism." It includes the following quote from lead singer Brandon Boyd, who looks pretty white to me. "When I was growing up, I had dreads for quite a long time. I didn't shave and I rarely bathed either. But I was very conscious, as I am a conscious person. I would find that police officers were much, much more apt to basically fuck with me when I looked that way. It was obviously probably one of the most annoying things anyone can ever come into contact with, but once they would search me down and take the gun away from my head they'd be like, 'Alright, go.'" There is also an interview with Theo, Gina and Squid from the Lunachicks, which contains the following exchange. Theo: Also, in France, isn't rape legal or something like that? Gina: Yeah, it's tolerated. Squid: It's like that in the United States. A guy comes up to the booth and points to a Che Guevara T-shirt. "Who is that?" says the guy, maybe 18, as white as me and my little brother and very earnest-looking. "I keep seeing him on a lot of shirts." "That's Che Guevara," says the girl working the tent. "You know the Black Panthers? He's a revolutionary." "Che Guerera," says the guy, pronouncing "Che" like "Chet" without the t.  "Um," I say, holding a Coke. "What was that part about the Black Panthers?" "Look," she says. "He's a revolutionary, OK? He's a revolutionary." Quddus, the MTV veejay who's hosted a lot of this summer's broadcasts from the Jersey shore, is walking around by the side stage and compliments my brother's Dilated Peoples shirt. My brother asks why they aren't on MTV more. Quddus says they're on MTV2. My brother says it's not the same. Quddus laughs. I ask Quddus if he thinks MTV is good. He says, to be honest, no, that he's trying to change it from within. He says he likes his soul music show and very little else, and says he tells his bosses the same thing he's telling us: a lot of MTV's programming is for 14-year-old girls and that he's a 22-year-old man.  It's time for N.E.R.D. and we get back to the main stage. Their name is announced: "N-E-R-D!" and out run the members of Spymob, a Minnesota group that plays all the instruments on N.E.R.D.'s fucking brilliant debut album, "In Search Of..." Then out come Pharrell, Chad and the third member of the group, Shay. The greatest mystery among N.E.R.D. fans is what Shay does. He was in a group with Pharrell and Chad in high school but didn't follow them to hip-hop production fame. Pharrell and Chad handle the music and Pharrell does most of the singing, so some N.E.R.D. fans think Shay is in the group more or less as a favor. But today's show proves that besides being a generally funny and cool guy, Shay is also a big musical asset. Though he admits he's not an amazing singer -- part of N.E.R.D.'s charm is that Pharrell is a pretty weird vocalist himself -- Shay throws in a line or a sound effect here and there that really contributes to the energy of the songs. Me and Ted also think it's cool that Spymob -- who rock, by the way -- are almost as geeky white-guy looking as we are. Pharrell and Shay, who are black, and Chad, who is Filipino, embrace all kinds of music and the funniest aspects of all races in a way that seems inclusive and revolutionary. On their breakout song, "Lap Dance," they talk with appealing enthusiasm about poor-white-people pasttimes like bar fights and motorcycles. After opening with "Brain," their salute to smart women and/or oral sex, depending on your interpretation, the group hits its stride with "Lap Dance," which is about strippers or politicians or both. The group, particularly Pharrell, prove they are indeed capable of rock star theatrics and aren't just a bunch of geeks eager to get back behind the boards. Pharrell wins over the crowd by calling on everyone in the amphitheater to come down to the first few rows, which are largely empty because N.E.R.D. is the first act and it's only about 4:45. I have mixed emotions about the use of such a cheap gimmick, which of course requires that Pharrell also chide security for stopping the hundreds of people who rush forward. I can imagine how the empty seats would be frustrating for the musicians, but I also think it sucks to make security out as the bad guys for enforcing rules everyone supposedly agreed to when they bought their tickets. Me and Ted move up front, but since that's only about 20 feet from our real seats we don't have to leave our section. Pharrell starts beat-boxing the music for "Grindin'" a song he and Chad produced for fellow Virginia Beach natives Clipse, whose album I later realize came out on the day of the show. Suddenly Clipse are on stage, and everyone in their stolen seats is singing along with every word. Ted can't believe how huge "Grindin'" is out East, and says that in Los Angeles, where we're from, it's barely ever on the radio. Anyway, it's amazing. Pharrell's voice is shot and raspy but he keeps going and during the closing song, "Rock Star," climbs into the crowd and shakes a bunch of hands. I realize I'm standing next to the guy on the bus, the non-fan, who sings along with every word and is rocking out so hard standing on his seat that he almost falls down and has to catch my arm for support. We both laugh and give a nod that says, "Damn, I can't believe how fucking great this is." To be concluded... |
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