Review: Baking with Ziggy Marley

Geoff Carter

Monday, July 27, 1998 | 9:47 a.m.

If there was ever a time I considered hopping on the marijuana bandwagon, it was last Friday night, July 24, at the Hard Rock Joint. The stuff was all around, and it wasn't the smelly weed I've had to endure at other shows - this smell was florid, robust, the kind of delectable scent that elevates one's hunger for tandoori chicken, goat cheese pizza, Cocoa Puffs and just about everything else.

And what's more, smoking out would have been a fine way of marking time while waiting for Ziggy Marley and the Melody Makers to show up. The band took the stage nearly an hour late - no doubt thoroughly baked themselves - played for exactly one hour with no encore. The smug Rastafarian didn't even say goodnight.

Ah - better living through THC!

Placed against the sizzling dynamic of the band's performance, Ziggy's rudeness was an unfortunate aberration - a blemish on what was, otherwise, one hell of a night. Ghetto Youth Crew got the crowd going early on with their dancehall beats and unflagging energy. It hardly seemed important that one couldn't understand a word they were saying. When they finally materialized, The Melody Makers kept the crowd going with a tough version of "Power To Move Ya" from their 1995 release "Free Like We Want 2 B," a fierce testimonial to a higher power ("Jah got the power to move ya") that patron saint and patriarch Bob Marley would have been proud to claim.

And the elder Marley was very much in evidence. Aside from Ziggy's uncanny similarity to his dad in both looks and vocal style ("Creepy," as a very stoned man next to me described the match), the Melody Makers devoted almost half their set to his music. Faithful renditions of "Three Little Birds," "People Get Ready," "Rastaman Vibration" and "Jammin'" were played to thunderous applause and wildly bobbing heads.

All at once, it was over. The band walked off without a word, and even as the house lights went up the crowd stared at the stage in disbelief, unwilling to believe the band would pack it in so unexpectedly. But the band did not reappear and the audience filed out to the casino, murmuring quietly and breathing deeply, one last time, of the venue's dizzying air.

One can only guess how many plates of nachos and bowls of cornflakes the Hard Rock's coffee shop unloaded that night.