Method Man, Inspectah Deck & Masta Killa, The Bluebird, 9.28.2006

I realized the other day that Tical, the first solo record from Method Man and one of the three greatest (along with Only Built 4 Cuban Links and yup, Fishscale) Wu-Tang-affiliated albums came out over 12 years ago. Especially considering how rap music spotlights and then swallows its stars, that’s a humongous eternity of time. Sure, each successive Method Man album gets worse than the one before it, but that can’t hide the fact that he’s on them, and for the most part, that’s enough. He’s always been a pretty great rapper, and his humor and charisma goes a long way toward maintaining his shelf life (and I’m glad he’s finally, though perhaps temporarily, cut Redman loose). Meth may be on the downward slope of his trans-media celebrity, but he’s still pretty prominent, and in terms of ubiquity, he’s actually approaching brand name status. Whether it’s an ad, a rap song a TV appearance or a film role, you can always expect his irresistable demeanor, one especially sui generis in the current atmosphere of rap music. He’s tough but still genial; smart-assed, but in a goofy way. His body is almost cartoonishly loose-limbed and gangly, which he uses to great effect, prowling around the stage, crouching and high stepping at the same time. And the way he twists syllables and alliterations and drops geeky pop-culture references indicates that he’s just plain smart, along with the fact that he’s figured out the trick of crossing over while retaining his credibility. All of this stuff was running through my mind before Method Man played here in Bloomington last Thursday, and I went to the show under the assumption that, despite my highest hopes, he’d probably phone in a performance to a crowd of white Midwestern frat kids in Indiana, because, well, he can.

I guess I’ve probably been to somewhere in the neighborhood of 30 or 40 rap shows, and the vast majority of them have been, well, pretty bad. I won’t belabor the stereotype that rap music is inherently bad live, because I don’t think it’s true, but I will say that I’ve seen some supremely shitty rap shows in my time, and thus I always tend to have low expectations. The only reason I bought a (20 dollar) ticket for this show was the late-announced news that Meth would be bringing two guests with him, and those guests were Inspectah Deck and Masta Killa—the two most underappreciated MCs to come from the Wu-Tang stable—both of whom are pushing pretty decent new albums. It was too much to pass up. The whole thing started fittingly, by which I mean an hour or so late, at which point some dude named Strike, who was apparently in 8 Mile, came on stage and spazzed out to some pretty bland beats. He was much, much too hyperactive and kept opening the endless water bottles on stage and spraying the crowd with them, like he was heating us up too much and needed to cool us down. It was hot as shit in there, but that water was warm. Warm and annoying. Masta Killah came out next, and opened with his verse from one of my favorite Wu songs, the full-posse track “Protect Ya Neck” (mp3) from The W. He’s got one my my favorite malaprops ever in rap music in that verse, when he says “Connor O’Carroll,” and it’s one of his best verses because it comes right after Meth’s in the song, and their styles contrast so well–Meth all up-and-down and raspy, and Killa moody and monotone. I didn’t know too many of the other, newer songs he performed, and I was more waiting for Inspectah Deck to come on anyway. Yeah, they did individual solo sets. Deck did his verses from “C.R.E.A.M.,” “Protect Ya Neck,” and also “Spazzola” from Meth’s pretty decent Tical 2000: Judgment Day, along with a bunch of new songs, but the best part was how he ended his set. He actually climbed down off the stage and stood in the crowd while he did an old Gangstarr verse (I can’t remember which one) acapella, with guys blowing pot smoke in his face and everything. You don’t see Deck smile that much, but he was smiling like he was on safari or something out there, mingling with the exotic natives and trying to instruct them.

Meth made the most of his entrance, introduced by his partner Streetlife (from The W’s “Do Ya Really”), and then coming out and giving fives to everyone near the stage. It was weird seeing him in person for the first time, because I’ve been watching the second and third seasons of The Wire over the past month, and it struck me that Meth is far and away the most recognizable actor on that show, which has a cast of like 40 people. He’s a pretty big celebrity, and here he was at a college bar where his head is like a foot from the ceiling. Another thing with rappers is that, once they have a few albums out, anytime they tour it’s a greatest hits set instead of an evenly distributed selection of hits and album tracks, and Meth lived up to that. The good thing is that he’s able to pick and choose from Tical, and I got to hear the majority of “Bring the Pain,” “All I Need” and my personal favorite, “What the Blood Clot.” Aside from the setlist, the greatest characteristic of the show, and something that makes me extremely proud of Bloomington, was the interaction between Meth and the crowd—he recognized pretty early on that they (sometimes, we) knew the verses, and by about three-quarters of the way through he decided to give us a test. It came during what’s becoming a staple of rap shows now—the tribute to dead rappers part. Meth gave lip service to 2Pac on his way to O.D.B., and the beat from “Shimmy Shimmy Ya” started. Meth just looked at the crowd, and they (we, on this one) obliged by poorly rapping every single mangled word. He seemed genuinely pleased and, understandably, not a little bit surprised. He then moved to talking about Biggie, making sure to mention (through the Socratic method, no less) that the guy we were watching was also the only cameo verse on Ready to Die, specifically on “The What” (mp3). I was shocked that, once the beat dropped, the crowd pretty well verbatim recited Biggie’s first verse. Shit, I didn’t know most of it. Meth was happy enough to actually stage-dive, and I don’t remember the last time I saw that at any show, let alone one by a guy who used to pitch deodorant and who’s been in a movie and is worth millions of dollars. But there he was, being passed around like Eddie Vedder or something. But that wasn’t it. After about an hour or so, Deck and Masta Killah came out on stage, along with Strike and about 10 pretty voluptous local white chicks. They did a bunch of old Wu stuff (the rappers, not the chicks), and Meth was the clear leader, 100 percent charisma and that big goofy-ass smile. Then he went and did something that I’d not only never seen before, but that I didn’t know was actually physically possible. After diving out into the crowd, he pushed himself up until he was standing, and, using the rafters for balance, , while everyone else was rapping onstage, he just fucking started walking across the crowd. It wasn’t awkward, either—considering how hard that must have been to do, he did it smoothly and, most importantly, didn’t fall, which would have been a total catastrophe. But it all went off without a hitch, and before he left (and after he bitched about the industry for a while), he promised to tell everyone back in New York about motherfuckin’ Bloomington Indiana. I hope he actually does that—I know that I couldn’t stop telling my non-rap friends about how this one was of the most (unfair) expectation-exceeding shows I’ve seen in a long time.