Amph'd up

The Greek Theatre in Berkeley is the ideal place to see a summer show, at least on this coast. It's big and friendly, it's an honest-to-god amphitheater with stone seats and great sound, and there aren't really any bad places to sit (unless you get there after curtain and wind up stuck on the grassy hill). It's always light when the first band goes on, then you can kick back and watch the sunset before the headliner.

I'm a fan. I try to see at least one show a year there, and it's usually Ben Harper.

Oh Ben. He doesn't fit easily into the rest of my music collection, which ranges from blues to jazz to hip-hop and back again. But he's a spectacular guitarist, a powerful singer, and the consummate crowd-pleasing performer. His shows run like clockwork, too, with a bevvy of guys backstage who each seem to be in charge of a single Ben Harper guitar. Between songs, they come scurrying out to hand him a new one, perfectly tuned.

He has a solid band, but my favorite part is always when he pulls out a chair with some kind of hippie wall hanging over it, sits down, and plays heartbreaking solo ballads on a lap steel guitar. The other musicians get quiet and back into the shadows, and Ben proceeds to fully tear it up.

By comparison, Damian Marley's opening set was rough around the edges. But that's not a bad thing. His breakout album, Welcome to Jamrock, has been blasting out of my car for the last month—it's awesome—and he has the live chops to back it up. He's a tiny little man with glorious hair, springs in his feet, and two singer/dancer ladies who could kick my ass any day of the week. He actually bounced all over the stage during his entire set, like a cloud of dreadlocks on a pogo ball.

Marley works the I-sound-like-my-dad-did-I-mention-who-he-is? angle a little too much, but you can't really blame him for it. He has tons of energy and hometown pride, plus a dude in his entourage whose sole job is to wave the Jamaican flag around wherever Marley goes. I figured it was a cousin or childhood friend. "Daaaamiaaaaan . . . I wanna be in the baaaaaaand with you-ou-ou-oooooooooou . . . ."

Given that Marley is just getting his feet wet and Harper has been playing to stadiums full of worshipful stoned college kids for a decade, the difference in their styles makes sense.

I was just happy to be there on a warm summer night, watching Damian prance his kid-like way to nightfall and listening to Ben offer up rockers and lullabies with a practiced hand.

get up stand up. stand up for the right to claim marley paternity.