Outside, it felt like two degrees, and colder with the windchill. Inside the Crown Street music venue, it was the polar opposite. As Renaissance Entertainment presented “A Tiny Mic Experience: Shout Out to Love,” Dr. AZA Allsop and his band captured the hearts of concert-goers with lyrics that remained sweet in the air long after the show had ended.
Maybe that’s by design: Allsop is a real-life doctor at the Yale School of Medicine, where his research dives deep on the tie between music, social cognition, and the use of psychedelics. He can speak as easily off the cuff about social science as he can about jazz, and he can (and does) jump into both eagerly, as if they're simply a second language. In the band, fellow musicians include bassist Zwelakhe-Duma Bell Le Pere, drummer Abdul Rahim (a.k.a. Ryan Sands), and saxophonist Jalen Francis.
On this night, New Haven was the pathway for insurmountable genius, from crisp, clear sound that burst from overhead speakers to a kind of intimacy that felt unmatched, heightened by the warmth of an indoor space as the wind remained punishing outside.
As the band extended an open invitation to sing along, musicians made it clear that this was an interactive journey. This was history.
Part of that is the group itself. Between all four members, the band has collective influences in calypso, classical, country, gospel, hip-hop, reggae, R&B and Soca. Or as the band’s host (and Allsop’s cousin, the audience later learned), Gerina Jadé, said, “This is a mantra of love.”
“We are in the month of love,” Jadé continued. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and warmed the room. “Love is a very interesting topic. We are almost infatuated with it, however it seems we still struggle to obtain it in many ways. There are many types of love one for family, friends, community, ourselves, and for romantic interests … We ask that you be present with us on this journey through songs with minds and hearts open. So, let's take some collective breaths to prepare us for this journey.”
You couldn’t help but be drawn into the moment: it made you forget everything happening outside of Firehouse 12, from the weather to the state of the world. Drawing from her background in marriage and family therapy, storytelling, mental and emotional health and the arts, Jadé sought to usher the audience through love’s corridors. In Allsop, she had sharp cultural collaborator, ready to take the audience on a journey through the band’s sound.
You may be asking: How does a doctor, who came to Yale by way of Howard University, lead a band?
Calmly. Intentionally. Tenderly. Imagine yourself under a spell, and you’re part of the way there.
As he took a seat at the piano, it wasn’t about titles or credentials, but about soul. The evening began with Tevin Campbell’s “Can We Talk” and Musiq Soulchild’s “B.U.D.D.Y.,” throwing it back as the room got into a groove. From the band, musicians welcomed the audience to sing along, and soon the words “Can we talk … for-a-minute” sweetly floated across the room in harmony. Perfect strangers, both veteran and newbie vocalists, sang together from their seats. Back at the front of the room, Dr. AZA’s husky voice brought people together in more ways than one.
A listener could all but feel the keys, the sound and movement was so vivid. Vocals wrapped the room in their embrace. Movement rippled between musicians and across rows of chairs. Smiles multiplied. This was synergy at its finest, with a force that got musicians acting as one body. By the next number, a cover of Bob Marley & The Wailers’ “Waiting in Vain/Turn The Lights Down Low,” musicians and listeners had reached an understanding—and place of vulnerability—that is part of the package deal with love.
Pausing to address the audience, Dr. AZA also acknowledged that insecurity is an inevitable part of that dance.
“After getting to know them, you want to get even closer, but you feel insecure, not knowing if they feel the same way you do and you don't want to wait in vain,” he mused of relationships. “They are nervous, they don't want to move too fast and mess up the friendship so you tell them, you can go slowly.”
“I am coming home to you,” Dr. AZA crooned, presenting the song anew. “Wear something see-through so I can see your heart.”
This was not about an evening of passion but coming home to love. A safe place. A place like no other. Dr. AZA sang with eyes closed, locs dusting shoulders
No matter how many times the audience may have heard the song, no one had heard quite the way Dr. AZA and band conveyed it. Even Saadiq would be taken by how musicians and listeners alike embraced the lyrics and melody.
Around Dr. AZA, the band ensured that the love was free-flowing and plentiful throughout the night. Abdul Rahim’s drums sent a current throughout the room, a boom to the tinkling of the cymbals that sounded like a promise. Francis’ saxophone spoke in a language that eardrums needed, and immediately understood. Le Pere’s bass brought listeners all home to love.