Concert Review: Matisyahu & 311

by Chad Jones

Friday night at Smirnoff, the rhymespitting, beat-boxing, Jewish reggae phenomenon that is Matisyahu opened for ska/funk/punk/rock/rap group 311.

The match up was/is part of 311's Unity Tour 2007, which also features occasional appearances by The Rivalry, The English Beat and Particle, etc.

311 fans might hang me out to dry, but overall I felt that Matisyahu—whose name is a Hebrew and Yiddish pronunciation of the Biblical name Matthew (thanks, wiki)—put on a better, more exciting show. Don't get me wrong; I've had a special place in my heart for 311 since the 90s. And while they were more rambunctious and, of course, louder than the soft-spoken, religious-themed rhythms of Matisyahu, I still gotta go with latter.

For those who have never seen/heard of Matisyahu or seen him perform, here's what happened last night and what I am confident happens at each of his shows, though I've only been to this one. Roughly ten minutes before starting time, his band—one guitarist, one keyboardist, a bassist and two drummers (one bongos; one regular)—shuffle on stage and set up. Then, about six minutes later, a very tall, very lanky, very Jewish guy dawning a yarmulke with a long crinkly beard and glasses saunters onto the stage. He wears a coat with a collared shirt undearneath, jeans and sneakers.

Suddenly, a bongo drum claps and a riff rings out. The thin Jewish guy moans softly, then loudly, into the mic. The moaning takes on the form of a rhythmic stomach-churning chant. Then cymbals crash, and this guy starts spiting lightning-fast lyrics, strutting up and down the stage, bouncing to the beat, pointing to the enthusiastic crowd.

Matisyahu's set was a fair blend of his older and newer songs. Halfway through he played "King Without a Crown," a song which seemed to get the most recognition from the crowd, being that it's the single that launched him into consistent (and almost annoying) rotation on radios throughout the country (most notably the Edge).

By the time he was halfway through his second-to-last song (one I am admittedly unfamiliar with; must be a newer one), the empty seats near and far had mostly filled in. Being so, Matisyahu must have felt compelled to up the ante, so he climbed atop a row of amplifiers and bobbed up and down like a frog to the beat. Afterwards, he hopped down (to the relief of the security guard) and begin a completely outstanding beat-box-athon which garnered a standing ovation (see above for verification of his credentials).

After a twenty-minute interlude—wherein a head-shaven guy across the aisle returned to his group of friends "whoo-hooing" about the presence of five beers in his arms suddenly tripped and spilt those beers all over the place—311 took the stage. Among others, they played oldies from their Grassroots album, as well as their flawless cover of the Cure's "Love Song," and the characteristically more mellow "Amber".

Why was 311 not as good? In my humble, inexperienced 311-concert-going opinion; they were just not as awesome in the true, literal sense of the word (as in inspiring "awe"). But everything was on cue. Lead singer Nick Hexum's vocals were crisp and clear (and the ladies seemed to enjoy when he took off his overshirt). The group's second vocalist, S.A. Martinez, who provides back-up vocals (and who heads up the rap duty), was absolutely wild, running across the stage and twirling in circles—though his voice is a much higher one and it kinda got lost in the sound. Acoustically, every other member was top notch.

But, I guess, after years of hearing their songs, seeing them live was pretty much what I expected. Not bad at all, just not entirely my cup of tea (or matza ball soup).