You throw a ball in the air and it comes back down. Toss a baby towards the ceiling, it will come back down. Everything that goes up will have to come back down, forced and sucked by the earth, to its every centre.
It is just how it is. We all learned about it in school; gravity. But then last Saturday, I stumbled upon an equally phenomenal force at Geco Café; Gravitti Band.
Nine at night, after a few whiskies in Tigoni, I bundled out of a cab and stood outside, phone against my ear. My pal was telling me, “just walk in the very back, you will see me. I’m seated with Edward.” But then as I walked in I was accosted [yes, accosted] by such sweet tunes from the band playing inside.
Such overwhelming music from a musically marauding band that felt bent on stealing souls. They were playing Lovers' Rock. Look, I’m a lover and often a hopeless one. Lovers' Rock I think is the song that angels sing on their day off.
Inside the warm cafe, magic was unfolding. A tight throng formed a crescent before the band that was pelting covers of the most nostalgic Lovers' Rock you ever heard. Their pace was terrific, their energy ripping the place apart.
I stood there agog, in a complete musical stupor. Song after beautiful song hit me like a crashing wave. Then I started dancing because everybody around me was dancing or bobbing because you do not dance to Lovers' Rock, you bob.
I asked a waiter what the band was and she said, “Gravitti.” I mouthed that word; Gravitti. It tasted like a nirvana. I felt like I had been living a lie, having never heard of this band. I was told Gravitti plays there most Saturdays, but they also have other bands on most days of the week.
On “stage” a guy and a lady led this musical onslaught, showcasing this pure talent. My friend called me at some point; ‘where the hell are you, I thought you had arrived?’ I told him I was inside.
When he came, I was dancing, a whisky in my hand. He stood there watching. “Whoa!” He said, “who are these guys?” I said, “Gravitti. Like the pull of the earth.”