Sidewalk Sessions
7th West
1255 7th St.
Oakland
May 31, 2024
Small sunglasses, a neon yellow beanie, eye-shocking magenta sporty shorts, pale yellow socks, and black dress shoes: thusly clad, a drummer wailed on his kit. Along with a bassist and guitarist, they backed saxophonist Nora Free of the Nora Free Liberation Quartet, and were the opening set of the second installment of Sidewalk Sessions, a free monthly music and community event held in the backyard of 7th West.
Jazzy, loose but in complete control, the four serenaded a sparsely populated yard, dotted with a dozen patrons — or are they performers? Plus one child, and vendors from three fellow 7th St. businesses.
While the event title may be a bit of a misnomer (this stretch of street, quite gray, is rather inhospitable to hanging out for the sake of it), and the yard far from full, it was nonetheless clear that Sidewalk Sessions was off to a strong start. Free, a self described “Artist, Musician, Composer, Educator PhD holder, ex-academic troublemaker,” looked and played the part, dressed in a flowing printed skirt, keffiyeh, and moody berry lipstick and expertly handling not one but two gleaming saxophones.
The band finished their set, and the host for the evening, Natalyn Daniels, with Kehlani’s perky cheeks by way of Timothy B’s paint job peeking from behind, welcomed us. A round of applause ensued for Free, a reminder to greet and peruse the stands of the local businesses present, and then an intro for the next act: poet and belly dancer Rachel Noel.
Noel, who had indeed been one of the folks bopping along to Free’s set and the interim songs pumping through the speakers, entered the stage calmly, their midriff and strong legs bared to the chillier-by-the-moment breeze and golden hour’s sinking rays. The performance alternated between spoken word poetry delivered standing static at the microphone, and expansive, undulating, and precise movement across the small stage. The BART train’s screeching crescendoed as Noel wove their body, speakers intermingling with the metal-on-metal. The poetry portions, laden with reverb, were deeply personal and simultaneously universal, hopeful and dreamful, looking towards the beauty in the drudgery of daily life. Noel’s pleasure in their work was palpable (and selfishly, I love a ham when I’m behind the camera!) and got the small crowd cheering heartily by the end.
The sun had set and the chill sunk in, but we all sat in wait, still eager as ever. Elizabeth Lubin sat at the edge of the stage beneath Kehlani’s ever-present ass, notebook in lap and white half-frame sunglasses on, scribbling in the last moments of light. Looking very, very cool in a white lace top, white jeans, Blundstone boots, and a printed chore coat/soft jacket, Lubin’s band looked equally promising, shuffling on stage to tune up an electric violin, guitar, bass, and drums.
They launched off with “Soundproof,” their “soundcheck song,” which sounded great but not good enough for Zollie, resident manager of all things sound at 7th West: Unsatisfied with the balance, he tweaked throughout the whole number. A little raspy, with floating, etheric vocals and full of rich strumming and steady drums and bass, Lubin’s sound was captivating.
Despite beginning the set slung in her own electric guitar, Lubin gave the people what they wanted, switching things up with a banjo for a few songs — an excellent addition to the already string-heavy arrangement. The instrument — “thanks Brian Kester for giving me this banjo, like, 7 years ago” — heralded a deeper, pluckier sound. After “Lost At Sea,” “the next song is a cover, we don’t do a lot of these,” in Haitian Creole, whose name I was unable to catch but bright and cheery sound I very much enjoyed.
Lubin too called out her appreciation of “events like this, especially free ones, in Oakland, where you leave the house and your wallet’s hurting.” Even on a seasonably cold (56 degrees Fahrenheit, practically freezing for us Californians), the instruments “sad” and patrons shivering, we were all happy to be there. The following song performed by Karen Dalton — the “second cover in a row; guess we’re liars. What are we, a cover band?” — kept us locked in our seats still. After a first-ever attempt at introing the band with a reprise, “kinda mid, as my students would say,” they closed out and packed up, releasing the small but steadfast audience into the night and warmer locales.
Shuffling back home past the BART station, trains above once again screaming over my thoughts, I realized I had not noticed them for hours, since that grinding medley during Noel’s performance. Elemental surprises, whether of the natural world or our built one, may have tried to infringe on the experience, but thankfully West Oakland is tougher than that — and will be back with more tunes and hopefully more attendees, later this month.
