Hal Willner's Freedom Rides, Royal Festival Hall

This was an odd duck of a concert for the final night of the Olympics. Elsewhere in London were the reformed Spice Girls and Blur and general partying, whereas this was at times a sombre show, curated by Hal Willner as part of Antony’s Meltdown Festival. It was inspired by the Freedom Rides, a turning point in the American Civil Rights movement.

The Freedom Rides were in 1961 when, deliberately violating Jim Crow laws, more than 400 black and white Americans risked their lives - and many endured brutal beatings and imprisonment - for simply travelling together on buses and trains as they journeyed through the Deep South (see picture, below).

Willner has carved out an interesting niche as a tribute album creator and multi-artist performance show director. Previous such shows have included tributes to Thelonius Monk and Nina Rota. He presented a memorable show of Disney songs when Jarvis Cocker curated Meltdown. Willner assembled a crack mixed-race band, including pianist Julian Joseph, veteran session guitarist Chris Spedding, Brian’s brother Roger Eno on keyboards, a top notch brass section and backing vocalists and the excellent Alison Miller (rare to find a female in this kind of role) on drums. 

The guest singers were an eclectic bunch of fellow travellers, including Billy Bragg whose song's chorus was the phrase said to be used in the South for jobseekers: “If you’re white, you’re alright, if you are brown, stick around, if you’re black, get back.” Folk singer and national treasure Martin Carthy sang his song written in the Eighties about apartheid, while his daughter Eliza played some affecting fiddle.

The Canadian King Khan (new to me) sang some charismatic psychedelic soul and ex-
Labelle Nona Henryx was hugely impressive with perhaps the most difficult cover “Strange Fruit”, given oomph by her stage presence and newness by some lively atonal brass sections. "Cross-platform liberal" actor Tim Robbins (pictured above right) isn't an exceptional singer but his performance was heartfelt and provided some Hollywood star power.

The closest thing to an M.C. was Eric Mingus, son of the great Charlie. Neither his dancing or singing was smooth. He was the anti-Luther Vandross, adding jerkiness and grit to the proceedings. Strangely self-effacing, he introduced everyone else, but his identity must have been a mystery to many in the audience.

Seventysomething Peggy Seeger, a long-time activist, sang a passionate song about the Ku Klux Klan, her slight frailty endearing her to all, although a cheesy singalong lost some points. When Seeger recounted a tale of the KKK being frozen out when they attempted to set up in the UK, the mainly white liberal audience lapped it up. After all, this was in the week in which the current adored national heroes are Mo Farah, a Muslim Somalian refugee, and the mixed-race Jessica Ennis. We’re not like the States where they attack mosques and crazed gun-toting lunatics murder worshippers at Sikh temples, right? We’re actually pretty pleased with the picture the Olympics mirrored back to us.

the audience shifted on their seats and looked uncomfortable. If Antony’s aim was to unsettle, he succeeded

Any smugness was challenged by Antony, whose Meltdown this was and whose glorious voice always reminds me of Nina Simone. The word backstage was that he was fortunately talked out of doing a version of “Young, Gifted and Black” re-titled “Young, Gifted and Gay”. He did make a speech telling us that the gay rights movement in New York was started by a couple of transgendered prostitutes and claimed that young gay children were being murdered in Saudi Arabia and Nigeria and only moved into taboo territory when arguing that we should all fight for the rights of gay children. At which point the audience shifted on their seats and looked uncomfortable. If Antony’s aim was to unsettle, he succeeded.

Nona Hendryx came to the rescue with a sassy version of Curtis Mayfield’s “Move On Up”. With a line-up like that, it could have been either a dog’s dinner or a rather worthy but dull event. In the end it surprisingly held together, with occasional peaks. It was absorbing enough that I even forgot that I tried and failed to get tickets to the Spice Girls.