Part I: Did I Mention We're In Space?

Groove Spoon.

Say it out loud.

Say it again.

Grooooove Spooooon.

Listen to that lovely assonance, the way each word centers around the same vowel sound. The way it suggests something smooth and funky. Something fruity-flavored and fun to dance to. Something a little—I shouldn’t say it—groovy.

There’s no help for it. That’s the proper word. Groove Spoon is a funk band finding something a little behind the times, a little chunky and outdated, and making it part of today. Not ten feet from me is a couple wearing matching shirts, colored by hand to say ‘The Bump Is Back’. They are touching hip to hip every other beat, changing angles, never out of step, thinking back to a dance and a time before me. The rest of us—too young or uncoordinated to remember a dance with identifiable 'moves'—we shake our hips and shimmy and swing our arms about. We get lost in a transition between the past and present.

We're listening for the voice of Antwaun Stanley, and the something about it that says, 'This is the music and this is the love. It's yours and mine together.' It’s a side effect of Stanley’s on-stage magnetism and charm, bolstered by back-up singers Emily Berman and Hannah Winkler. They discreetly pull his presence away from the edge of narcissism while adding their own impressive style. Behind them in a purple Lakers jersey, drummer Jack Stratton holds my attention with the wacky, seemingly-panicked faces and strange extra vocals while simultaneously playing the drums without loosing his rhythm or overwhelming the other parts of the band.

In this ten-piece band, there’s also a little section standing off to the side at the front. There’s a sax, a trombone, and a trumpet (borrowed, I hear, for this performance) collectively known as The Corporate Brass. They’re in shirt and tie, conspicuously straight-laced compared to the rest of the band. They’re making good sounds, adding that brassy element that brings an element of brightness to the group. The sax player is making his mark on the musical landscape—but despite their nice tones, the two brass players are taking a back-shelf approach. They’re not loosening themselves from the black and white of the page to make themselves part of the performance. But, you ask, isn’t that why they’re The Corporate Brass? Maybe. I just want them to be more like the bass player, Joe Dart.

He’s cached in with the rest of the rhythm section, the meaty, bony structure of the band, hidden under the skin. He’s not making himself obvious or moving in flashy ways—he’s just playing his bass with a nonchalant, good-natured enjoyment. That, and playing a bass-line I can’t stop listening to, even with its often-repetitive nature. It might just be funk, or talent, or a combination thereof; but he’s holding the band to the ground with the ever-present, underlying swagger of his bass. His moment to show us what he can comes when the bass player from the Macpodz came up for a bass-off. It’s a moment replete with high-energy bass licks that rarely get have a chance to get aired—and then he’s right back to jamming in the basement of the funk house that is Groove Spoon. (Did I really just write that sentence? Yes I did.)

So say it: Groove Spoon. They have flash and solidity; they've got a bass line I could listen to over and over. They're a part of today and a time when people thought the song 'September' by Earth, Wind and Fire was more than just a bad pep band cover. It's a band that I enjoyed, and as their t-shirt states, “would recommend listening to in most situations.”

This performance took place July 9th.