Angie Stone

Angie Stone is a soul singing legend. Tonight she performs at the Jazz Café to a bustling and vibrant crowd which is bulging at the seams. Her voice is croaky and she complains of a sore throat as she begins the final show of a seven night stint at this intimate venue. As she belts out some of her classics, she sent a shiver down my spine. And the night brings many surprises. Mica Paris, one of Britain’s finest soul singers, is in da house. Halfway through the set, Angie invites her down and she delivers some striking sounds with such ease you wonder how she does it. Covering what seems like an infinity of notes coupled with some on stage banter creates a strong connection with us plebeians and we cheer with awe in all the right places.

On a rendition of ‘Bottles and Cans’, Angie asks us to give her some light from our phones. Swaying from left to right, I realise that this is one very special night. Then during ‘Brotha’ the Stone instructs us to say “I love you” to the friends we had come with. In retrospect, it seems a tad corny but it was pure revelry as everyone embraced the moment and each other. And that’s what the best music does- it ignites its listeners, it brings them alive and most importantly it brings people together.

As a chick from South Carolina, Angie’s success roared through the nineties and still captures the charts in this twenty first century. Despite getting older (she is in her 49th year and proudly relays her new role as grandmother) her spirit is fiery and her charisma warms the crowd. Stone is as strong as a rock: female empowerment and empathy for the ‘black brother’ or those who have been oppressed pervade her performance.

Tonight she is weakened by a cold, but her humour and stamina fights back. She says “someone told me I need Berrocca but what I need is Baracka!” The mention of Obama immediately evoked visions of all those hurdles that people have had to jump to get to where we are now; how music was central to the struggle and still is. The soul of the gospel and the words that featured in the narrative of the civil rights movement are what kept people going. On a rendition of ‘Pissed Off’ my friend turns to me and recalls “this song held me together last year”. From national struggles to personal recollections it made me realise that music survives history and pulls us through some of the darkest moments.

As the night draws to a close, the singer goes through the beginning of a few songs and lets the roar of the crowd make the deciding factor for the final farewell. Of course it has to be ‘Wish I Didn’t Miss You’ which she dedicates to the girls and all the times we have been messed around. You gotta love her; being at the Jazz Café and in the presence of such an epic performer was like finding gold dust and I hope it will happen again.