For better or worse, radio personality Peter Rosenberg
is one of the last generals standing in the war on "real" hip-hop.
His
late-night slot on New York's Hot 97 mimics classic underground hip-hop
shows of the Nineties that broke emerging artists and could be trusted
to skewer commercial rap in lieu of the organic, lyrical, real live
shit.
And when he jabbed at Nicki Minaj's ambidextrous juggling
of pop and rap at this year's Summer Jam, he ignited a firestorm of
debate about the state of the genre and its increasingly fragmented
audience. So when Rosenberg curated "A Night of 'Real' Hip-Hop" at Best
Buy Theater Thursday night, it was with both a firm stance and a knowing
wink, a battle fought well after the war had passed.
Headliners
Odd Future wasted no time turning Best Buy Theater into a writhing
mass of flying bodies, shoes, bottles and swear words as Tyler, the
Creator and Earl Sweatshirt launched into "AssMilk." Fresh from Frank Ocean's sold-out show earlier that evening,
the entire Wolf Gang stalked the stage, trading mics and stage-diving
to their nihilistic hearts' content (Nakel hitting the Chappelle's Show robot dance was the highlight of the night).
There
are few live shows in popular music that are as overwhelming as what
Odd Future present with seeming ease: Taco mashed buttons on an MPC as
the crew snarled through their full catalog, and violent mosh pits
sprouted throughout the sea of bodies on the floor. Earl Sweatshirt
seemed like he'd never left, commanding the crowd by himself through his
flagship "Earl" and even stagediving – fans held down his Army fatigue
bucket hat so it wouldn't fall off as he was tossed to and fro, a sign
of the upmost respect.
Ealier in the evening, after
respectable sets from New York stalwarts Nitty Scott and Smoke DZA,
Asher Roth took the stage with a full band and shoulder-length hair, a
far cry from the smirking sophomore of years passed. Still, his time
spent in the trenches of basement frat parties has left Roth a true
master of ceremonies. Two stage dives in, and he was rapping barefoot
with the crowd chanting his name. Since his 2009 slacker anthem "I Love
College," Roth remains a cult hero to the masses of stoner bros whose
lifestyle he narrated throughout his early material. He brought two
square-jawed teenagers onstage to help him drop references to blumpkins
and MILFs on the still-knocking "Lark on My Go-Kart."
"Does
anyone know what a blunt cruise is?" he asked later as Action Bronson
emerged to throw bags of weed into the crowd. Still, Roth's skill as a
lyricist has always taken a backseat to his stoner charm, much to his
dismay. When he dropped his new track "Turnip the Beet," released as a
gift to Rosenberg this June, the hook "Boom bap, original rap,
refreshing when you hear it, hard rap is all that" felt almost like
parody. He wrapped up tightly, albeit visibly jaded, with "I Love
College": "We weren't gonna do it, but fuck it," he disclaimed, a
last-minute decision for the better.
"Just call me Rae," Raekwon announced as he sauntered on stage to raucous applause. Raekwon and the Wu-Tang Clan
will forever be synonymous with the idea of anti-commercial, "real"
hip-hop, and it's a title he doesn't take lightly: "How many of y'all –
really look deep and ask yourselves – how many of y'all really love
hip-hop?" he asked before opening strong with catalog hits "C.R.E.A.M"
and "Ice Cream" to a sea of diehards holding Ws in the sky.
The
oldest act on the bill, Rae was conservative on stage, letting the power
of his past hits carry much of the show. However, his music is still
decidedly youthful, the stories of extreme rebellion and adolescent
angst – smoking woolies and shackled on a bus to Rikers, all before his
17th birthday. His set waned as he delved into his latter catalog ("It's
Yourz" live was a rare treat but was lost on much of the audience), and
a rumored special guest never showed. Ultimately, though, Rae didn't
need the help.
Odd Future, when they took the stage,
scrubbed mentions of rape from their lyrics, a sign of the group's own
slow maturing. But cuts like "Bitch Suck Dick" and "Rella" still
offered up the emphatically offensive and sinister air they're infamous
for. Of course, fame changes things.
"Let's get this out of
the way," Tyler sighed before dropping "Yonkers," and let the crowd
roar the entire first verse back to him. They closed with "Radical,"
and as masses of kids bellowed along throughout the theater, the
question of "real" hip-hop seemed to matter less and less.
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