*Ding* rang my phone, alerting me to a new text. "Cory! Are you free tomorrow night?" It was from my friend Rick, an all-around good dude with exceptional taste in music and the largest record collection I'd ever seen (by his estimation, over 10,000). Odds are when Rick texts, are you free? He's got tickets to a great show. "I am," I responded, "what you got going on?"
"Michael Franti at the Fonda."
Without hesitation, I answered, "I'm in."
Now, I don't know why I responded so quickly and confidently to the text. I've never listened to Franti's music! His name was familiar, maybe I'd seen him on Kimmel or Letterman back in the day, but none of his tunes came to mind. I trusted Rick wouldn't go to a show that was a dud, and answering yes just felt right for some reason.
Los Angeles is the kind of place where it can take an hour to go a mile, especially on a Saturday night. The Ford is like a mini Hollywood Bowl, only seats 1200, and has parking for 100-150 cars, so I knew I had to leave early to get a spot. To kill extra time, I lit up a nice Arturo Fuente cigar and began people-watching until Rick arrived.
Once inside, I continued to survey the crowd of oddly mixed boomers, Gen X couples, party girls, and, most curiously, families. I wondered, what exactly was this guy's demo, and would I fit in? I had no idea what I was in for. The opener, Tropidelic, sounded like Real Big Fish and 311 got funky and had a baby. They had the crowd on their feet, but the boogie didn't really kick in until Franti took the stage.
His set started with a video intro encapsulating things he'd learned, burned, and earned during the pandemic. It was filled with images of his wife and son, family, friends, and experiences. It surged into a celebration of gratitude for life, music, and people. Then Michael came bounding on stage to his song "I'm Alive." From there, his momentum and connection with the crowd didn't stop for almost two hours. Franti’s relationship with his audience is akin to the Dead and Deadheads or Buffet and Parrot-heads. The difference was Franti's fans weren’t dosed, sloshed or smoked out; they seemed legitimately high on his music and, dare I say, life…
Seriously, my cynical-self took account halfway through the show, questioning whether or not I'd been cajoled into some sort of cult gathering. Everyone, I mean everyone, was having a blast, dancing, singing, and sporting huge smiles, even me! That's why I was so skeptical. How could I be having so much fun at my first concert with an artist whose music I barely knew? That's when it hit me; every single lyric and song was upbeat and positive. No heartbreak, poor me, screw you, eff them, life’s unfair, boohoo/we're all doomed laments – This was pure love and optimism.
Like a teenager cramming for a test, hours before the show, I listened to playlists of Franti's catalog. Overall his sound is a mix of hip-hop and island vibes. But, one song from his latest album, Follow Your Heart, commanded my attention. Brighter Day starts with a plucky guitar riff, then Michael, in a hushed voice, encourages:
Don't give up when your heart is weary
Don't give up when your eyes are teary
Don't give up when your voice is trembling
When your life needs mendin'
Don't give up when the hurt is near you
Don't give up when the world seems to be broken
I'm still hopin'
With my heart open
For a brighter day
I was transfixed. Every single lyric of Brighter Day pulled at my heartstrings. When he played the song live, my eyes welled with tears. So much has changed in my life, but here I'm still hopin' for a brighter day. Two years in quarantine, a broken heart followed by divorce, politicians, and racists tearing the world apart, greedy capitalism run amok, climate change, women's bodily autonomy revoked, a monkeypox threat, and freaking Will Smith slapped the crap out of Chris Rock on live T.V. for chrissakes –
I NEEDED A DOSE OF MOTHER-FREAKING HAPPINESS, and this was it!
A twist of fate introduced me to a tribe of joy seekers, yet couldn't understand how I'd felt accepted so quickly. I'm not a joiner. The trick was, it had nothing to do with me. It's all Michael; he understands how to host newcomers. Half of his songs are accompanied by lyric videos onscreen behind him. I didn't know any songs going in, but by the end, I could sing along to everything. He prompts his audience to partake in seat-side introductions, group hugs, and funky dances. I did the do-si-do up and down the aisle with strangers while maniacally laughing my ass off. It was absurd. I saw a woman in her 80's leaning on a railing and stopped to ask, "Do-si-do?" Her face beamed like she'd been waiting all night for me to ask. We danced, and the train of people behind me joined in with her.
More than once, Franti invited fans on the stage to dance and sing. At the end of, Say Hey I Love You, a young boy got the mic and sang in harmony with Michael's lead – the kid's enthusiasm tore the house down. So a few songs later, Michael invited him back. "My name is Athen," he shouted proudly, "A.T.H.E.N!" Then, right on cue, he joined Franti in another rendition of Say Hey I Love You. The same song! A second time in one show! Who does that? Michael freaking Franti does. He sees joy and follows it. There's a Hollywood adage of never working with kids or animals because they're unpredictable scene-stealers. Franti didn't care. He's so comfortable in his skin that unexpected turns are embraced like inspiring new adventures.
That's how the whole night went. Franti often leaving the stage to join the audience for a dance party. He even boogied his way back to where Rick and I were happily watching the show unfold. He’s more than a songwriter, performer, and band leader. He's a curator of good times. I already can't wait to go to another show.
As the night wound down, and we all sang to a recording of John Lennon's, Imagine. The music slowly faded away until it was just our voices united, "You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one. I hope someday you'll join us, and the world will live as one." What a beautiful ending to the night. One last trick up his sleeve ensured my transcendence from a concert into a deeper appreciation for the good things life has given me. Here, in this place, with these delightful new people, was the humanity I'd been unwittingly yearning for.
The venue lights came up, and the road crew began packing up gear while the band took their bow. But the show didn't end! Acoustic guitars were handed out and Franti, without a microphone, hushed the audience. When everyone settled, he said, "Curfew has passed, so the power's been shut off. But that doesn't mean we can't play one more song campfire style." With his bandmates at the tip of the stage, they played through a medley of the night's hits, Good Day for a Good Day, Sound of Sunshine, and Brighter Day. His last words ringing out:
Don't give up when your pride is bruised and
Don't give up when you fear you're losin'
Don't give up in your darkest hour
’Cause you got that power…
I've been spending a lot of time with nostalgia lately. Partially because I'm writing a memoir, so it’s my job to thoroughly take account of my past. That work can be intimidating, making me hyper-aware of the ever-present fears we all face daily in our emails, news, and social media, basically everywhere. But this whole Michael Franti experience was 100% nostalgia free. It was brand new in every way, a fresh perspective. My friend Rick's invite was more than to a concert. He didn't know it, and I didn't realize it either, but it was an opportunity to realign my soul. Ever so slightly shifting my direction toward joy. A choice I can make on any day, at any time… and so can you. ‘Cause you got that power.
More about Michael: Wikipedia
Follow Your Heart (latest album): Spotify, Apple Music, Amazon Music, Soundcloud
Michael Franti tour dates: https://michaelfranti.com/tour-dates/
Great review! Michael Franti now in my playlist. So far I’m diggin’ it! Thanks for the artist tip. Love discovering new music.