Bell Center, MTL.
May 20th, 2008
Those who know me and my work should know that there has always been a soft spot in my heart for good ol hip-hop. The mom n’ pop kind of good lyrics, phat beats and entertainment not involving gats, bling or blurting out the word “nigga” every 7 seconds in order to assert who the word now belongs to (The upper-class whities at the record labels cashing in). I may be a deadhead in my heart, but I take pride in the variety of my musical lusts. Personally, I hate it whenever I ask what kind of music someone listens to and they answer something like “pretty much everything”. I tend to go off on rants and name obscure groups from the past and myspace fads with less than 50 friends just to flex my musical muscles.
But that’s another story altogether.
Anyways, the point is that while I’ve seen my fair share of rap concerts, I’ve never had the pleasure of witnessing one like this one, where the hype and build for this meeting of the mainstream reached beyond absurdity. I’ve been fortunate to witness smaller club shows headlined by “phenoms” like Busta Rhymes, Immortal Technique, hell even Chamillionaire (don’t ask… it was work-related), but none could match the ludicrousness of what I was to witness tonight.
I had the pleasure of meeting up with Kanye prior to the show and, while he is a nice guy, very respectful, the persona, the “George Bush doesn’t care about black people” media hound isn’t just for show. That is who Kanye is. He doesn’t go around proclaiming himself the biggest star in the universe because he wants the attention… he truly believes it. However, he vowed to give a shout out to me and SKUNK at the show so even I couldn’t help but get a little giddy over the prospect. I very much doubted it would happen, but at this point, I couldn’t help but appreciate just the mere notion that he would consider it. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect what was to come later.
Anyways, we, posse and I, sauntered up to the front of La Belle at 7:15 for an apparent 7:30 start. An amateurish move considering the genre of music as well as the age group. The outside was a zoo, an eclectic mix of underage girls doing their best to appease the masses and guys attempting to stand out by looking exactly like their thousands of counterparts. With 15,000 trying to cram through a couple of doors, to be patted down by a combination of neurotic and disinterested security. The result was a lot of standing around, listening to a thousand other people have the same goddamn conversation. The smell of smoke, was both pungent and poignant, reinforcing so many of the stereotypes that real hip-hoppers try to efface. Pants were low, laces were undone, cleavage was in abundance, leaving me in a state of limbo between lascivious and guilt. My quartet single-handedly raised the age of the show to a legal limit.
The result of the security shenanigans was 45 minutes of standing around, trying to maintain any semblance of sanity. We were eventually ushered in to hear the last bit of Lupe Fiasco’s last song, “Daydreamin”. An unfortunate drawback to arriving late, but with three acts still remaining, there was plenty of time to wash drown out the memory of missing one of today’s finest MC’s.
With about 20 minutes between Lupe and N.E.R.D., there was ample time to scope out the atmosphere. To say I felt old was truly an understatement. I felt like a chaperone. Young kids dishing out mommy and daddy’s money on overpriced merch like it was going out of style. Fake Kanye sunglasses were aplenty as were the 40-dollar t-shirts that looked like they were hastily put together in someone’s garage. But still the kids ate it up – the irony of trying to show off being at a spectacle that was only attended by the same people the kids were trying to show off to.
N.E.R.D., the deadly combination of the great Pharrell Williams and Chad Hugo made their way to the stage to a vivacious roar only to be drowned out by a bass that rivals an entire Cali car show with stereos on full blast. Blasting through track after blistering track from their 3 releases (with the third, Seeing Sounds, being released in early June), Pharrell, the man behind so many of this decade’s hits, knows a thing or two about what the crowd wants. With a full-on band, including 2 drummers and numerous dancers, the stage was in a constant state of busy, leaving the horde of kids buzzing, now in more ways than one. If there were any drawbacks, it was the intense bass. I understand that a heavy beat is as integral to a rap show as anything, however, and perhaps this is just my old age getting the better of me, when no song is distinguishable from any other, I find that to be a problem. But that didn’t stop me, or anyone familiar with the NERDly sound to bang their mutha fuckin’ heads to tracks like “Lapdance” and my personal fave, “Rockstar”. After a solid 40 minutes of really warming the crowd up for the main courses, Williams and Hugo can take pride in knowing that they succeeded in their roles as hype men.
After another half hour intermission, it was time for the uber-young gals to relish the glory of all that is Rhianna, and her compilation of bubble-gum pop. A brief glance around the arena showed very few from the male gender showing their love in dance form. It was a sea of pre-pubescent girls letting go of any reservations they may have had about looking foolish in front of the opposite sex. Rhianna danced and purred her way through about an hour’s worth of redundancy, that those with better trained ears were able to distinguish as “Umbrella”, “S.O.S.”, and “Shut Up and Drive” among others. My colleagues and I were enjoying the moment immensely, gleefully mocking the droves of younguns, and probably having a better time, despite the complete disinterest in the music. However, for journalistic sake, I will give credit where credit is due. Rhianna is good at what she does. She acknowledges the crowd, encourages interactions and participation and just seems like a very likeable and approachable person.
Which was, for the most part, not the persona that Mr. West exhibits when it was his turn to turn the lights off. While his time to shine was supposed to be 10:00 (probably to appease the legion of kids on parental curfew), the show began no earlier than 10:45 to a raucous but energized roar.
The show began, as one would have expected - with an over-the-top intro complete with flashing lights and an out-of-this-world (literally) set-up. Going into detail over the absurdity of what Kanye was attempting to pull off somehow wouldn’t do justice. In a twist from a typical Ray Bradbury story, we find our self-proclaimed “biggest star in the universe” trapped alone on a planet shamelessly similar to Mars (I ain’t no astronomer though). For the next 90 minutes, the songs, while well performed, were too sporadic and any momentum that was created via bigger hits like “Jesus Walks” or “Gold-digger” were left to die during the far too many boring 10 minute interludes consisting of conversations between Kanye and his interpretation of H.A.L. from 2001:A Space Odyssey.
That’s not to say that from an overall scheme of things, the entire spectacle was a mess. It was well put together and the crowd loved everything about it, From the opener “I Wonder” all the way to classics like, “Diamonds from Sierra Leone”, the crowd was revved-up and amped, hanging on every syllable, every rhyme, every verse spit as if the message was the medium. Kanye put his heart and soul towards invoking as much emotion as possible into his lyrics, and his passion regarding his own talents was evident. However, there’s always been a fondness in my heart for a musician who lets his talent as a musician take center stage, without all the unnecessaries of the circus sideshow bravado that usually lesser talented artists rely on. Kanye had the right idea in that the entire stage was reserved for him and only him, yet too much of that was lost with the visual distractions all around. With all the energy and hype created by N.E.R.D. and even Rhianna, Kanye did little to keep the high level of excitement. The high emotional moment didn’t come from the more intense tracks like “Stronger” but from his touching tribute to his mother, “Hey Mama”, complete with a somewhat odd rendition of Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’” by one of his backup singers.
Only, when the stage show was over and Kanye had a chance to be Kanye did the artist I was hoping to see burst through. The show sadly peaked when Lupe joined Kanye on stage to perform the hit “Touch The Sky” with all the emotion and energy I was waiting for for close to 90 minutes. A great ending for what I, apparently the minority, felt was a somewhat disappointing show.
As for my shout-out, it came, although, not in the way I was hoping it would. After the show was complete, Kanye felt compelled to play Devil’s Advocate with a 10-minute rant against media, complete with a declaration to “Fuck Magazines” to which the crowd roared in approval, and had me shrinking in my seat. Was it directed at me or SKUNK? I highly doubt it. However, I am sure this was going through his mind when he promised his acknowledgement of our publication. Big words from someone who relies so heavily on his foolish award show antics and bold televised statements against The prez’s views on black people for the purpose of media exposure. Talk about biting the hand that feeds.
