I love when a performer responds forcefully to a booing crowd. Whether it’s a floundering politician, a wrestling heel, or Jason Mantzoukas telling a crowd of millennials that Space Jam is bad actually.
A few weeks ago, I experienced this phenomenon live and it was inspirational.
Amanda and I love the band Ginger Root. The lead singer and songwriter, Cameron Lew, describes their sound as “elevator soul.” Ginger Root’s music is clearly inspired by the City Pop genre in Japan, which blossomed in the 1980s and has seen a recent revival. City Pop is a mix of smooth jazz, ballad pop, and upbeat funk. Perfect for a long drive or a night entertaining friends. We’ve listened to a lot of Ginger Root over the years. I’ve got their album City Slicker on vinyl. When Amanda bought us tickets to their November LA show at The Troubadour as a treat, it would be the second time we saw them live. (The first was opening for Thundercat, which is how we first learned about them.)
Ginger Root performed two sets at The Troubadour. Their first set was flawless. They performed the entirety of their new album SHINBANGUMI in perfect sync to the 80s anime and VHS inspired visual album that played on a screen alongside them. After an intermission, they performed a second set with a person-sized ‘wheel of fortune’ that looked like it purchased at an office supply store. On each wedge of the wheel, there was a handwritten name of a Ginger Root song, plus a few covers and one wedge that gave the drummer his choice of what to play. The songs were a mix of popular Ginger Root songs any fan would love to hear live, along with rarities and B-Sides even Amanda and I, big fans though we are, had never heard before. This way, no two sets would be alike from night to night! Cameron prefaced the wheel set with a rule: no matter what we landed on, there would be no boos if a favorite wasn’t played. No audible groans for a song you’ve never heard before. That sounded reasonable to me. They were performing not one, but two sets for us! That’s a lot of show!
The crowd excitedly chanted “Spin! The! Wheel!” every time Cameron gave the wheel a firm spin. In the middle of the wheel set, the wheel landed on a song called “Nominated.” I’d never heard of the song before. Amanda and I were sitting in the balcony, which my 40-something knees sincerely appreciated. But I guess a few folks standing in the very front near the stage must have boo’d or groaned audibly, because Cameron playfully, but forcefully stopped his band as they were playing the opening notes of the chosen song.
Cameron first reminded everyone of the one rule he had for us. He explained that this kind of reaction for landing on a song that’s not one of their well-known hits has been fairly common for the wheel set on this tour, hence the introduction of a damn rule. (My words, not his, but I’m interpreting his inflection.) Then he did something that surprised me. Cameron looked across the audience, like a lawyer in front of a jury, and made the case for “Nominated.” He explained that “Nominated” was a very important song for the band. A lot of the sonic elements of later Ginger Root hits evolved from “Nominated,” which the band viewed as a creative success and inspiration. It was a genesis song for them, but it was released during the pandemic, when a lot of commercial media didn’t get proper pushes from marketing departments. Everyone was busy tweeting about death, struggling to find the unmute button, telling their relatives not to drink bleach even though the president said to do it. There was a lot going on. “Nominated” got lost in the shuffle of a crazy moment.
When Cameron finished, the band launched into “Nominated” to a thunderous applause from the audience. It was an electrifying moment. He could have ignored the scattered boos and play on like nothing had happened. I certainly wouldn’t have noticed. Instead, we got to watch Cameron defend his work with passion, honesty, and a bit of irony. He knew it was absurd to stop the show, but he embraced the absurdity and owned his work, even the stuff that wasn’t a commercial hit.
Needless to say, the rest of the set went off without a hitch. Hilariously, the band brought out a mini-wheel for when they played their best known hit “Loretta,” which offered a bunch of variations. We got the karaoke version, where Cameron performed the first verse like an amateur with an accompanying karaoke video. It was hilarious.
As an artist, I love the idea of defending your back catalog. The true value of art isn’t how much money it made, or how many people experienced it, or how many awards it won. The true value is the process. How did the art make the artist feel when creating it? How much did it inspire them? How much did it delight them? Sometimes we need a forceful reminder of that in a world craving new hits to consume and categorizing all other art as failure. It was a wonderful reminder of how my art is worth defending, especially the art that transformed me in a positive way.
I know it’s only mid-December, but I think I have my New Years Resolution. I won’t let the perception of my art be determined by fickle crowds, rigged markets, or wheels of fortune. When I’m proud of my work, I won’t be afraid to say so.
🎲 Your Turn: Did you work on a project or piece of art that didn’t get the response you thought it deserved from the world? I leave the floor open for you. Defend your art. Why was it actually secret success? How much did you enjoy making it? I’d love to hear from you. Reply directly to this email or leave a comment for the world to read by hitting the orange button below.
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