Now let’s put this all in perspective…
I found myself B.B.King’s on 42nd Street last night like I do every so often when I want to see a performance by artists that I favor. ERYKAH BADU, KINDRED and GEORGE CLINTON have played the space before. I have seen a Hip-Hop show or two there, but nothing that jumps out in my mind as being sensational or dare I say historic. So try to understand my need for hyperbole as I frame this account of last night’s EPMD reunion concert.
Times Square 42nd Streeet was the epicenter of NYC’s Hip-Hop scene twenty years ago. It was the place that B-Boys went to hang out or catch a flick. Classic Chinese karate joints played in the moviehouses that ran along ‘The Deuce’. You remember the kind with the horrible dubbing, but sick action. Everybody came to 42nd Street to feel the energy of the city. Neon lights flickered throughout the night and they made Times Square so bright you might think its daytime. On 47th Street was a nightclub called the Latin Quarter. This space was Hip-Hop’s preeminent home in the early mid-1980’s until it closed it’s doors in 1988. There was another popular Hip-Hop club that was open for a brief period called Union Square, located at the north end of, you guessed it, Union Square. There were plenty of great Hip-Hop moments there as well, but Latin Quarter was on the Deuce and that was the only place to be if you loved Hip-Hop.
So it was no small wonder to me when I saw that the line for the show extended the length of West 42nd Street. Just like Sneaker Pimps the night before featuring Ghostface real Hip-Hop fans know when there is an event that can’t be missed. There was clearly more people waiting on line than the space could legally occcupy so C.S. and I did what we always do. When I first met this women she had no idea how to enterprise a line, but in the short time that we have been dating she has become almost as gully as me. When we were inside I chose my usual viewing position in the middle of the room. With that I can see the entire space from end to end. This is important to note since this is an historic Hip-Hop show that people have been waiting on line to get into and nobody was frisked even slightly. I could have brought in my old Latin Quarter box cutters and my hammer and no one would be none the wiser.
It turns out that a fight did break out too, right in front of the main bar. What was hilarious to me is that it was only a minor distraction since the host deejay, MISTER CEE, was playing his cadre of true school hits and break beats. Security never came and all the people filled back in the empty void after the commotion wwas settled. I chose the perfect place to post up too, because on my right hand side was my brother from another mother, JERRY. He is Hip-Hop to the core. Most of you would call him JUJU from the BeatNuts. JUJU hammed it up for the camera. Next to JUJU was JUST BLAZE and I had to show that man respect for keeping the ‘LO lifestyle on peoples’ minds. He showed love because I had some classic graphic shit on myself. I saw MARK a/k/a Playboy from the collective and he told me that MENASAUR was somewhere in the crowd also. HAIL MEG!
As far as the concert went down, KEITH MURRAY, DJ SCRATCH, DAS EFX, REDMAN and EPMD were all in rare form. Their energy was ridiculous and you could see how much they enjoyed performing in front of a group of people that lived and died on every word that they spit into the microphone. These dudes were onstage living out their dreams. KEITH MURRAY and REDMAN bodysurfed the audience several times. If the crowd were ten years younger they would have passed dudes all around like a Garcia y Vega. During the course of the show E Double said something that was a bit profound and important. While fans of Hip-Hop music sit around and wait for someone to rescue Hip-Hop nothing is being accomplished. Saving Hip-Hop isn’t up to the artist, no matter how much money he pretends to have. Hip-Hop belongs to the fans.
Hip-Hop belongs to the dirty ghetto kids with Sony Walkman cassette players with so much scotch tape on them your friends call it your ‘Tapeman’. Hip-Hop belongs to the kids from the suburbs wearing backpacks and riding BMX bikes to school. Hip-Hop belongs to us all and if we decide to let it represent us as finger popping, fried chicken noodle soup eating, white tee, du-rag wearing nincompoops then it is our own fault. We shouldn’t be blaming any label executives and artists for our own personal dilemma of lacking substance.
More than anything else I have learned from the Ghostface and EPMD show is that when we give respects to our friends and the artists that have passed away we are really celebrating life. I think that theme is central to my contemplation of Hip-Hop. I will no longer give value to the material things that only promote the culture of death. It’s unfortunate to me that the vehicle that so many of us can use to make a living is being driven by those that only wish to make a killing.
CHOOSE LIFE.
