N.Y. act makes music funny

Li'nard pokes fun at the music industry while drawing crowds.
NEW YORK (AP) -- The band was halfway through its set at a crowded nightclub when three tourists quietly slipped toward the exit. Before they could reach the door, the music crashed to a halt.
The 6-foot-2-inch bandleader, looking pained, leaned forward and asked what music they might prefer to hip-hop. Before they could answer, the vocalist took a stab -- maybe country? -- and the band ripped into a note-perfect, tongue-in-cheek, yee-haw rendition of "On The Road Again."
Just a typical night for The Many Moods of Li'nard, an act that stands out even in a city so musical the subway trains seem to clack out a rhythm.
Acting up
Singer, bassist and one-time street musician Christopher Li'nard Jackson mixes musical and comedy riffs, poking fun at the music industry, his unsuspecting audience and even himself.
The style began a few years ago when Jackson, who goes by the single name Li'nard, persuaded the owner of a usually empty bar to let him lure an audience inside.
"You had to develop something to hold the people in the room other than the music," Li'nard said. "People'd come in, listen to music and then walk out. So when people started trying to leave, I'd stop the music and say, 'Hey, where you all going? What do you have to do?'"
He parodies Pink Floyd's "The Wall," lamenting that he "still can't find that (expletive) brick in the wall." Some of his best performances are of songs he dislikes, such as John Mellencamp's "Jack and Diane," which caught his attention when he saw the Indiana rocker dancing in the song's video.
"It's like really hickish," Li'nard says. "He should be cursing when he's singing this. He's all serious. So I thought I'd make it funny."
Seeking humor
Li'nard finds humor everywhere. He stopped the band one night because a man on a cell phone was wishing his mother a happy birthday.
"I said, 'What? Give me that phone.' We all sang 'Happy Birthday' to his mother over the cell phone," Li'nard recalled, adding the mother was screaming with delight.
But behind the humor is a serious musician who mocks the industry and its shiny-shoed record label executives, concerned that they "take the fun out of being a musician" because of an obsession with selling records.
"They create hit artists, even if they're not good musicians, just because they have the money to promote it," he says. "They make you write a song a certain way. They want to censor what you say. There should be free speech in this country. That's why I change the lyrics."
Li'nard now finds freedom in small venues, away from the mainstream music scene. He dreams not of a hit record but of owning his own club.
The musician's history
Li'nard's story is as unlikely as his stage show. Born in Richmond, Va., the former high school sports star has been a singer in a church choir and a violinist. He beat drugs and spent a year as a street musician.
Now Li'nard has found his niche in the Greenwich Village nightclub Pure. T. Brooks Shepard, who managed and produced Dizzy Gillespie, stopped in for a few minutes one night because he knows Li'nard's drummer.
"I ended up staying all night," Shepard said. "He does bring a party atmosphere to the situation, something lacking in a lot of places today."
Shepard added: "He's very disarming. He makes it look easy and seems to be joking around. But when they get ready to hit, the band is very tight. The rock tunes they play in a way that guys who play that genre can't."
The rock tunes are mixed with hip-hop, reggae, R & amp;B and just about anything else that fits Li'nard's many moods each night.
"I'm not going to conform," he said. "You don't have to be one style of music. If I'm in the mood to play funk, I'm going to play funk. If I'm in the mood to play rock, I'm going to play rock. If I want to do some show songs, I'm going to do that. If I feel like playing classical music, I'm going to do that."