First there was no audience. Then the DJ’s equipment failed him. It looked like it might be a bust of a Tuesday night at Cafe Nine.
But soon a pack of people descended on the club, and Moonchild took the stage.
Moonchild has been on New Haven’s scene as a hip hop and R&B artist for at least a year. She played a Daggett Street show mere days before the long-standing artist space was shut down, and distinguished herself from the crowd just last month on a multi-band Cafe Nine bill. In a genre where collaborations are common, Moonchild ably writes all her music and lyrics. Listening to the recordings she’s made, however, doesn’t prepare you for the live show.
Brian Slattery Photo
Moonchild.
Moonchild’s voice came alive on Tuesday as soon as she took the mike. At the beginning of her set and in between songs, she was all smiles, outgoing and friendly, almost like a stand-up comic, making everyone feel welcome. But as soon as the next song fired away from her laptop, a change came over her. The easy demeanor vanished. She became intense, riveting. The body language changed. She prowled Cafe Nine’s stage, leapt off it onto the floor and lunged forward, spitting words, as far as the microphone’s cable would take her. Like the best performers, she seemed less to be performing than to be channeling something that was speaking through her. Something that felt like it raged all through the club’s space, right up until the last note died out. Then Moonchild pulled that spirit back into her and was all smiles again, until the next beat dropped.
Her set wasn’t long enough, though she did right by the next act that followed her. By the time she ceded the spotlight to Vee Skeeno, Andre Jakai, and Vincent Blair, down from Hartford to finish off the night, the stage was already hot.
