I managed to do one non-World Cup* related thing last weekend and catch Maxwell in concert at Madison Square Garden.
I loved his first album, Urban Hang Suite, way back in 1996 but then completely lost track of him. As a result I didn’t even realise it was Maxwell performing at last year’s BET Awards until I did a search to find out who was such a great performer. Another factor in my defense is that Maxwell had an eight-year gap between his third album and BLACKsummers’night which I bought last July and has since gone to the top of the most played list on my iPod.
The concert was amazing as Maxwell bought such emotion to his songs. He was particularly moving when he spoke about growing up in Brooklyn and dreaming about playing at the Garden and when he thanked his fans for letting him live his life and then returning to him after his hiatus – he is living proof that in the end the truly talented will succeed.
I am going to let Maxwell’s music speak for itself in Pretty Wings, my favourite track from the album:
* I can’t bring myself to write anything about England’s painful thrashing by Germany as plenty of ink has been spilt on the subject already. In addition Zachary Roth’s post at The New Republic perfectly encapsulates my feelings:
“We weren’t cheated by anyone except ourselves . We lost to a better team. It’s much easier to accept this. To accept that we’re just not capable of performing basic footballing actions — passing the ball accurately, controlling it, NOT LETTING THE OTHER TEAM SCORE FROM A GOAL KICK UP THE MIDDLE — at anything like the same level as the Germans, let alone the Argentinians or the Spanish.”