Anthony Hamilton: I first glimpsed this unassuming genius at a jazz festival in Hamilton, Bermuda, in 2006. Under torrential rains and the aerial invaders forcing the sun to beat a hasty retreat, Hamilton is up there singing, popping and performing other dance moves and still not scratching a single note from his muscular voice. Do you know how hard it is to sing and dance on stage? I’ve been a fan ever since. The joints on the first two albums “Coming Where I’m From” and “Ain’t Nobody Worrying” are his passports to international love. I also love how he sprinkles liberal doses of his musical and spiritual philosophy onto wax.
“I want fans to hear my growth,” The Charlotte, N.C., native renders. “But I also want to open up the ears of those who don’t know about Anthony Hamilton. I don’t always want to be known as the sad cat. I like to have a good time, too. I’ve taken fans to church and baptized them; there are those who say I’ve healed them with my music. Now we’re going to boogie in the name of the Lord.”
And now the heavens sing a testament to this man’s undeniable gamesmanship.
