Cliff’s Band Is Strictly ‘Hanging Fire,’ Then Crowd Finally Ignites the Night

In sports, the true mark of a champ is the ability to win even on a lackluster, shoulda-stayed-in-bed day.

Jimmy Cliff and his band were in far from peak form Tuesday night at the Coach House, but by the time the last thumping beat sounded, Cliff had put on yet another show worthy of his standing as one of the pre-eminent reggae performers.

There were lots of problems with the 95-minute set, the first in a three-night stand that ends with a sold-out show tonight.

The five songs Cliff sang from his new album, “Hanging Fire,” were pleasant but mediocre. Bunched together early in his set, they paled next to many older gems in his catalogue that came later.

Cliff’s seven-man Oneness Band didn’t wake up until the last half-hour of the show. Even then, the arrangements were full of clutter where there should have been space. A listless job of sound mixing made the clutter worse. Instead of being highlighted, many key vocal and instrumental parts were allowed to blend into an undifferentiated sonic scape.

Bassist Glenroy Browne seemed to be doing supple, interesting things, but the mix was so hazy that it was hard to be sure. The guitar solos also sounded attenuated, although that may have been for the best: Most of them were unimaginative recyclings of wailing, note-shredding rock guitar cliches.

Cliff’s singing wasn’t immune to problems, either. At his best, he has a wonderfully versatile voice that can alternate between sharp, throaty cries and smooth, airy soul stylings reminiscent of Sam Cooke. Tuesday night, the lighter side was missing. At times, especially during a shaky reading of Cat Stevens’ “Wild World,” Cliff labored to hit the notes.

But like a pitcher who struggles with his control yet manages to get enough batters out to stay in the game, Cliff never let his show’s weaknesses send it to the showers. For a pitcher, savvy and stamina are the keys to having the right stuff when the best stuff is missing; for Cliff, infectious energy and a joyful conviction in the truth of his politicized songs were the saving qualities that kept the concert more or less afloat--until a grand-slam ending.

The first hour of the show was devoted largely to Cliff’s message music, including an extended sequence of songs expressing solidarity with South African blacks in their struggle for civil rights. Many reggae performers favor dire, apocalyptic declarations about the evils they perceive. Cliff’s politics aren’t baleful and angry, but celebratory.

While new songs like “Soar Like an Eagle” were stock statements of hope that failed to soar on their own merit, Cliff at least got them off the ground and conveyed their sense of affirmation by sending his bony frame hopping and twirling across the stage.

Among the stronger political statements were “It’s Time,” a catchy new tune that Cliff dedicated to Nelson and Winnie Mandela, and “Nuclear War,” which featured the toughest, most focused playing of the show’s first hour.

Cliff provided a memorable moment when, ending a medley of anti-apartheid songs, he involved a willing crowd in African-tinged call-and-response singing. Lots of reggae performers cast themselves in the role of political preachers; few can make the audience a part of the sermon. Cliff did it, calling out a melodic “ya-hey, ya-hey,” and getting a lusty, melodic echo in response.

Unfortunately, Cliff’s band didn’t catch the leader’s spark. For most of the show, they were an immobile, dour-looking bunch. That finally changed with a buoyant version of “Wonderful World, Beautiful People” that closed the pre-encore set. For the first time, the audience was brought dancing to its feet, and the response energized the band, which began to smile, move and interact.

The 25-minute encore was reggae as it should be: a pulsating band and a happily gyrating crowd. The ending underscored Cliff’s key mistake in the beginning: In his aim to deliver a message, he played too many earnest and unfamiliar songs at the start and failed to give most of the audience a reason to get up and dance. An uplifted audience might have lifted up the band for the entire show instead of just its final third.

When the Wailers sang “Get Up, Stand Up” years ago, they were speaking figuratively about political expression. But the literal meaning is apt for reggae too, and it becomes most important in a sit-down club like the Coach House, where the only reserved dance space was in the wings. Reggae is dance music, and the vitality of a show depends on the charge a band gets when it sees that its music is having its intended effect.

Jimmy Cliff’s performance at the Coach House in San Juan Capistrano tonight is sold out. Information: (714) 496-8930.