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For All You Smart Dumb Cats

Friday, November 16, 2007

Ghostface, 10 minutes into his show Tuesday night, here at the Bluebird:
“Ayo what’s goin’ on Indianapolis?”

“…”

“…”

“Aw I know where we at, shit. Who in the house from Wilmington?”

(cheers erupt. Close enough [Bloomington])

——————–

Rakim, 10-ish minutes into his set, after Ghost’s:

“Ayo who here is from the ghetto. Or has ghetto in their hearts. ‘Cos that’s what I’m talking ‘bout.”

“…”

(10 or so polite liars raise their hands).

——————-

More or less, that’s how rap shows go in Bloomington (not Wilmington. I don’t pretend to speak for Wilmington). Ghostface more or less phoned it in (I still like Ghost phoning it in). He also packed the tiny stage, which was also packed with a 10-piece band, with 4 hypemen to the point that it looked like a crowded subway platform. Rakim, despite being a legendary legend of legendhood, hasn’t really registered for me in about 15 years. He’s still good, though, and the crowd knew the verses (which, despite being in Wilmington, he only seemed to expect).

Highlight of the evening: the Rhythm Roots All-Stars, who backed Ghost, Rakim, and the second-best performer of the evening (after the band themselves), Brother Ali. I came into the show knowing nothing about either save the latter’s song “Forrest Whitaker,” and left with an appreciation of both that might even result in looking further into either. Maybe. Still, though, there’s just something about the refrain from “Whitaker” that I love: “you ain’t gotta love me.”

The RRA-S’s are from southern California, and their funk has a lot of War in it. This is a plus (big plus). I doubt I’d care about them in a different context (i.e. on CD), but hearing two sets of timables, one set of conga drums, steel pans, a shaker-gourd thing and of course a brass section live turns me into a nodding, marginally-rhythmic type person. They did “Apache” at one point, and “C.R.E.A.M.” and “Ice Cream” and “Shimmy Shimmy Ya” and “Paid in Full.”

Oh, and Rakim had a Public Enemy-style Guy Standing Still and Staring at stage right, only he stood statue-still wearing a full Oakland A’s ensemble. I imagined him as a 3rd base coach between innings. I was hoping that, toward the end of the set, he’d wave Rakim home, windmill-fashion. Didn’t.

——————-

Also: the Pretty Toney Audiobook! Listen. Learn.*

*How to get that white shit up out of the corner of your eyes, and stop actin’ like y’all are five years old.

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