![]() When Goapele steps out on the stage in stilettos, the audience, subdued until that point, express a vociferous kind of adulation. By half past eight, they get what they’ve been waiting for. That changes once the clock inches towards show time. ![]() They might recognize the joints but don’t move towards the dance floor. ![]() This is Manhattan funneled through a chic, sophisticated, yet (self consciously?) edgy set. A string of white lights dress the balcony and illuminate couples holding hands and girlfriends chatting it up. Without an opening act, a DJ keeps the crowd grooving and shuffling unassumingly in place. ![]() This audience only cares about one person at the moment: Goapele. An announcement about his rescheduled concert basically falls on deaf ears. The mention of Mos Def usually inspires something more than silence, but not tonight at the Highline Ballroom in New York City.
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