On our way to see Femi Kuti at Prospect Park, a friend received a text message that Michael Jackson had died. With no way to confirm the rumor, we frantically tried to contact friends, and relatives to confirm the story. It seemed impossible that the King of Pop could be dead at 50. On our way through Prospect Park through the band shell, Jackson’s death was on the lips of every passing stranger. Arriving early for the show, I sat in the metal chairs that surrounded the stage, and it was there that I received proof positive of Jackson’s death.

The show, part of the Celebrate Brooklyn series, opened with a brief announcement by two series’ organizers. They reminded me of the oft ignored principals of a delinquent high school futilely speaking to an audience too absorbed in their own conversations to listen. The audience conversations, all about Jackson's unexplained tragic death didn't change the fact that the music would continue. After the announcement, the opening act Melvin Gibb’s Elevated Entity took the stage. The band meshed Gibb’s loud penetrating bass, atmospheric keyboard playing, the vocal styling's of Amayo of Antibala's Afrobeat Orchestra, and the rapping of Antipop Consortium’s High Priest and featured complex drumming from both African and American drums. The band was constructed using members of other bands, and carried visual confirmation of this fact. Gibb wore African garb; Amayo sported painted white dots on his face, and High Priest was in navy business casual. The unorthodox combination of musicians produced interesting results, but although High Priest flowed like a seasoned pro, he was often drowned out by the tumult of instruments. Whenever the band went with a more minimal sound, using echo effects and futuristic keyboard riffs, the vocals were clear and strong. What the band had in musical ability, they lacked in stage presence. The crowd was mostly unresponsive to the set. I thought it was good.

There was a rather long intermission between Gibb’s band and Femi Kuti’s Positive Force. During the break all of us were thinking and talking about Michael Jackson, The woman in front of me stood on her metal chair elevating herself above the crowd and shouted, “Michael Jackson…Michael Jackson.” Later, I saw someone selling t shirts with Michael Jackson decals freshly computer printed and ironed on. I tried to keep my mind on Femi Kuti. Like Jackson Femi Kuti is part of a musical dynasty. Femi is the eldest son of Fela Kuti a founder of the fusion music known as Afrobeat which combines elements of rock, jazz, funk, and traditional West African sounds. Femi's son carries on the legacy currently playing saxophone in his father's band.

Suddenly African musicians wearing neon green pants, and African patterned multi colored dashikis filed on stage: the main event had arrived. As soon as they entered the stage, the previously listless crowd became energized, and the seated audience members rose to their feet. The musicians traveled to their instruments, all the while in rhythm performing carefully choreographed dance moves. They picked up their instruments, drums, bass, guitar, and five horns and started playing. As the standing crowd swayed, three women in African dress danced through the stage door to join the men on stage. The anticipation was palpable when Femi Kuti dressed head to toe in Crimson African garb burst on stage to wild applause. Kuti commanded the crowd to move, and people shifted left to right as he began an extended saxophone solo to end the introduction. Kuti is a powerful, commanding figure, and his energy remained high throughout the night as he switched between saxophone, keyboards, and trumpet. He is also the group's vocal lead with a strong, sure voice. From time to time he stopped briefly to wipe his brow with a dark blue rag, evidence of the immense effort he was putting out.

The band alternated between Afrobeat and instrumental Jazz, with Kuti shouting “Do you know John Coltrane? Do you know Miles Davis?” Kuti's jazz references, and his band's prepared, precise and beautifully disciplined set evoked a Nigerian Duke Ellington. Kuti presided over a thirteen piece band, expansive by today’s standards, and his hold on the audience was awesome, almost reverential. Kuti ended songs by turning to the drummer and wind milling his arm vertically in rhythmic precision with the tune’s final snare hit. The crowd seemed less interested in the instrumental portions of the show, but was injected with vitality when Kuti returned to the mike. Kuti took a few moments away from music to talk to the crowd about Africa, and the inaccessibility of education on the continent, a speech he followed with a song of African Nationalism. Kuti is a forceful political activist especially against corruption in Nigeria and other African issues. This too reminded me of Jackson's concerns about Africa--especially his hit "We are the World" written to aid victims of famine. For the finale, Kuti performed “Bang, Bang, Bang” which doubled as a new age lecture on the pleasures of sex. The lights went down as the audience clapped. Seconds later, Kuti reemerged triumphantly for a refrain as the golden shining lights appeared on the band shell's back wall, and the lighting turned the stage red.