Fighting The Black Dog: Genesis Owusu and Shayhan Live At The Roxy

This dude came strutting on stage clad in a Hawaiian shirt, grandma-couch fabric shorts, and no shoes whatsoever. He looked like he got lost while walking home from Venice Beach and just happened to find himself on stage at The Roxy. But Shayhan wasn’t lost. He was right where he was meant to be.

Shayhan had the voice of a classic soul singer. He had the rasp, the stank face, and the style. He could scream with the power of a true rock and roll and croon with the smooth sweetness of the Rat Pack. It completely caught me by surprise. But what really won me over was the true Aquarian hippie essence that he perfectly encapsulated. He had everything from the long hair to the free-love mentality.

His band had the same transcendental oomph. The lead guitarist especially played as if he was channeling the essence of the great psychedelic rockers of the ’70s. Each solo was oozing with soul and skill, emotion and precision. The audience would roar with applause every time he took the lead. The same goes for drummer Nico Vasquez and bassist Agnes Azria. They each put their everything into each groove.

I had never seen an audience completely won over like that. The room was practically empty when Shayhan and his band started their set. By the end, the floor was full of screaming fans, completely wowed by their stellar performance.

Genesis Owusu’s show was not just your average concert. It was full-scale performance art. Everything from the stage dressings, the song order, the skits between songs, everything was part of the story: the story of the ominous “black dog” - a symbol of rage, depression, and oppression.

The stage dressings emphasized the oppressive and confining nature of the “black dog.” At the back border of the stage, there was a chain-link fence with stage lights mounted at the top of looming poles, making them look like prison watchtowers. This was the prison both society built to confine Owusu physically as well as (as far as I could discern) the prison he built for himself in his mind. At the opening of the show, three tall men wearing red and black jumpsuits and black ski masks marched onto the stage, holding a mysterious red flag. Once they reached center stage, they dropped the bottom of the sheet, revealing the message: “Beware Black Dogs.”

Genesis then came storming onto the stage wearing a black suit and bandages hiding his face. He was spitting out each verse with such fervor. It felt like each word was a sort of release. Owusu was releasing all of the frustrations and traumas that have tormented him, that have eaten and clawed away at him like a rabid dog across the years. His movements conveyed that same release of energy as his words. He jumped across the stage with feigned insanity, ensuring he was engaging with and hyping up the crowd, while still maintaining this straight, serious face. His persona perfectly accented the darkness of the story.

The crowd was completely entranced by Owusu’s performance. They mimicked every gesture, shouted every lyric, they moshed until they dropped. It was like a worship ritual, every audience member paying homage to Owusu’s music through their cheers.

The intense energy kept building and building throughout the first two-thirds of the night. Then, suddenly the stage went dark. Owusu and his masked hype men vanished from the stage. After a few moments of nothing but confused murmurs from the audience, Owusu’s voice started blasting from the PA system. He was reciting a poem about finally overcoming the black dog. He had reached the end of his struggle, but not the end of his story.

After he spoke the last line of the poem, the lights came back up. Instead of the harsh red that persisted throughout nearly the entirety of the first act, they were glowing a warm gold. The three dancers from before returned to the stage wearing golden capes with an African tribal pattern. They were dancing with a renewed sense of joy and freedom. Then, Owusu joined the stage. He had traded his black suit and bandages for a red suit with a white scarf. He had exchanged his intense stare and cold persona with a huge smile and an openness with the audience. The three guys then took off their masks revealing three more bright smiles. The black dog had finally run away and it was time to celebrate.

For the rest of the show, Owusu played his grooviest hits. Each song had a bit of 70’s soul and Motown flair. We went from raging to vibing - both equally as fun and engaging - but this was more easy-going and cathartic. The whole night felt like a full spiritual journey. Through Owusu’s music and performance, we had faced our own demons and conquered them. And now we get to bask in the sunlight together. Owusu drove out the black dog and brought back the sunshine.