Live Music Review: Citizen Cope Pretty Much Sizzles

by Katie Wolitarsky

Darkness falls on the crowd. The local Georgia Theatre is at full capacity. Edging closer to the stage, bodies push and nudge against each other's unfamiliar silhouettes. Whispers, a few hollers and a girly scream try to fill the void. Drumsticks begin to tap. A blaze of light quickly glides across the stage. The guitar initiates a hum. Then, the voice, that distinctive gruff voice, moans. Clarence Greenwood (a.k.a. Citizen Cope) of Citizen Cope introduces the shadowy night February 9 with "Bullet and a Target."

The lights flash and pulse with the beat of the opener. The strange silhouettes transform into a more familiar collection of movements swaying side-to-side with their leader's words. The white-button down with sleeves rolled up, the pair of wrinkled khakis and the dark hair pulled back tightly all suggest Cope's relaxed tone for the night's show. He does not wear his emotions on his pressed white sleeve, but he is focused and concentrated. Cope takes the stage for one purpose only: to sing. He has no intention of instigating a mosh-pit or fanatical setting.

Cope seems distant and removed; he sings about things that matter and affect the world. From desperate love in "Pablo Picasso" to war and violence in "Southern Avenue," Cope finds a way to reach all angles. He sings, "The woman that I love/ is 40 feet tall," to express a sense of passion and envy that is beyond reach. He sings about aggression today and how "You don't have to go overseas to find war/ Because war finds you." His vocals bring out emotions behind the song and give us a glimpse into the man behind the microphone. You could probably see into his thoughts and prayers if he wasn't looking down the whole time.

There is also something comforting about his voice. The coarse hum from this ordinary guy is intriguing and captivating. It's almost hard to believe that these strong sounds and stirring lyrics are coming from him because his mouth hardly moves. He murmurs jagged lyrics through what seems to be a wired-shut jaw. But he makes it work.

"Sideways" is a well-liked song on this Saturday night. The crowd comes out of its daze and begins to liven up. Two girls throw their arms over each other's shoulders and awkwardly sway and sing. They know most of the words with the exception of a few uncertain mumbles. The song fades out and there is a lingering moment of anticipation.

Cope's more uplifting hit "Son's Gonna Rise" blasts, and the Abercrombie-wearing, high school majority goes nuts. Juvenile admirers, who are more focused on showing off their belly button rings and fake IDs, fill the venue.

Aware or not of the night's spectators, Citizen Cope closes with the strong beat of "Let the Drummer Kick." With every strike of the symbol and every thud of the drum, Cope is playing for the love of music; he feels the sound and the words. He uses his voice and melody with a purpose to teach and to grow. Cope is swept up in a lyrical emotion in which the stage, the sounds and his own words combine to give him fulfillment for the night.