Lettuce Entertains You at the SFJAZZ Center

Lettuce | San Francisco, CA | July 19th, 2026 - photos by Gabriel David Barkin

It’s Sunday afternoon in Oakland. The sky is cloudy, and so is your mood. You haven’t left the house all day. You’ve only checked off about half of the chores you had on your list for the weekend. Maybe your mother just called and told you some weird news about your uncle getting scammed online. Or your favorite team just lost the World Cup finals. Just one of those days. The world isn’t ending, but it’s still bringing you down.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket. You look at the screen. It’s one of your besties calling, but you’re not sure you feel like talking. A few moments later, another vibration, and this time it’s a text.

“I’ve got an extra ticket for Lettuce at the SFJAZZ in the City tonight. Wanna join me?”

Your first inclination is to decline. You have to get up early for work tomorrow, and maybe you’d just rather curl up in front of the television and catch up on that show everyone says you should be watching. But your friend knows you well, must be reading your mind. Another text pops up:

“Seven PM showtime, you’ll be home before midnight.“

And then another. “Never miss a Sunday show!”

And the icing on the cake. “It’s on me.“

So okay, you haven’t seen this friend in a while — and really, you could use something to take your mind off your picayune worries. Your head says yes. Even though your heart isn’t in full agreement, you text back a tepid thumbs up.

Your response is met with more enthusiasm than you have yet mustered.

“Wear something funky!“

Oh geez, now you have to get funky?

You look through what’s hanging in your closet. This one’s too cheery. That one’s too loud. You’re just not quite there yet. Finally, you just open a drawer and pull out that Bootsy Collins concert T-shirt, mostly because it’s old and worn and comfortable. Those first two adjectives match your current state of mind.

You grab an apple from the kitchen because Nutrition, and then you call a Lyft.

You’re not sure if you’ve seen Lettuce before. Maybe they played at that music festival a couple of summers back? You look them up on your phone while waiting for your ride, and you’re pretty sure you recognize the bass player. You look at their Wikipedia entry. They’ve been around for a while, started out while they were students at Berklee College of Music in Boston. Band name comes from asking clubs and other bands to “let us” play.

You open Spotify and search for “Lettuce.“ You click to play the top five songs on their page, starting with “Love Is Too Strong.” While it’s playing, you look at your Lyft app and see that “Raul“ is heading down Telegraph Avenue, still about four minutes away. You realize your toe has started tapping and your head is bobbing a bit in time with the music.

Even from the tinny speaker on your iPhone, you can tell that the bass player has got it going on. You glance down at the front of your shirt. Bootsy nods in agreement.

You grab a jacket because even though it’s still warm, you know it will be chilly in San Francisco by the time the show is done. You head out your apartment door, the music still playing on your phone. You pass an Amazon delivery driver on the stairs. He says “Cool tunes” as you pass.

Your Lyft arrives. “Raul“ has the air conditioning on, and he’s on his phone with earbuds on talking to someone. Sounds like an argument, but he’s keeping his voice really quiet. You have turned off the music on your phone, and you wish you’d remembered to grab your own earbuds so you could keep listening to the band you’re going to see.

You realize you haven’t thought about your chores for several minutes, nor your uncle getting scammed (it was just for a few dollars anyway), nor about the insignificant amount of money you lost on that World Cup bet you made at the office with that person you don’t really like very much anyway.

You start thinking that it’s nice that you have a friend who offers you free tickets to shows from time to time. You’ve given this friend a few tickets over the years too. Your mind starts wandering a little bit, and maybe you realize that weird thing you’ve heard about your uncle getting scammed isn’t such a big deal (he can afford it, and he’s kind of a jerk anyway), or maybe it doesn’t really matter who wins the World Cup. What matters is that you have people in your life who love you.

You can always catch up on your chores during the week. Who cares if your clothes aren’t put away for another day?

Your driver gets you to the show on time. Your friend is waiting right out front and greets you with a hug asking, “How’s it going?”

You think about it for just a moment. If you had been asked this question a few hours ago, you would have answered differently. Instead, you decide to keep riding the wave of good vibes that you’ve been experiencing for the last hour.

“Pretty good, actually. Thanks for the ticket.”

You go inside. The GA dance floor in the SFJAZZ Center is roomy, and you find your way up close to the stage. You see some other people you know, good people, people you love. Many of them are dressed up for a night of funk and fun, and you wish you’d worn something a little more sparkly.

Just then, some groovy cat standing near you says, “I loooove your Bootsy shirt!”

The lights dim. The band starts playing. For the next two hours, nothing else matters.

Later, you’re back in another Lyft, this time with “Sandy” driving. You’re still riding high on the music. You danced your ass off. Like your bestie, Lettuce read your mind and your mood. They knew what you needed to hear. They played their groovy tune “Everything's Gonna Be Alright” and closed the set with that Frankie Beverly and Maze song you love, “Happy Feelin’s.”

Bootsy agrees with you. You’re both glad you went.

Lettuce’s singer, Nigel Hall, even reminded you why you should never miss a Sunday show. He said they were having a little extra fun, throwing in a few extra improv bits, playing things they didn’t usually play to close out the three-day run at SFJAZZ. “You’re all getting a real Sunday show,” he said.

“When we can find the joy and have the fun, that’s a beautiful thing.”