Hell yes kittens. As promised last entry, the Playa is punching it up hip hop style, and what better time to do this than after the explosion of flavor I just witnessed Friday night at The Littlefield in the Gowanus, Brooklyn.
A fellow hip hop aficionado/friend of mine and I converged on this modestly-sized performance art space on Degraw Street to take in a concert sponsored by the National Black Writers’ Association. The acts?
First there was Talib Kweli, a fairly large name in the underground hip hop scene, who has sort of walked the mainstream tight rope with some popular, catchy crossover singles (“Just to Get By,”; “I Try”). His lyrics are more in the politically conscious vein, and his MC skills are quite superb. He is also known for having frequently over the years partnered up with another fellow Brooklyn-bred MC, Mos Def. The duo put out a well-received collabo album under the name ‘Black Star’ in the 2001-02 time period, spawning minor underground hits such as ‘Respiration’ and ‘Definition,’ the latter of which pays homage to Boogie Down Productions’ old-school classic cut ‘Stop the Violence’ by borrowing its chorus and re-wording it for a new-school update.
The headliner? The one and only Gil Scott Heron, a name not that well known in modern music circles, but please don’t get it twisted. Mr. Heron made his bones as a revolutionary African American musician and occasional spoken-word poet during the burgeoning, turbulent New York of the early 1970s, symbolizing the voice of the black poor and lower working-class in Harlem and other fringe NYC neighborhoods at the time. Works of his such as ‘The Bottle’ and ‘The Revolution will Not be Televised’ have stood the test of time as powerful works of artistic brilliance, and were hugely influential in what would go on to become the hip hop music we know and love today. His loops and vocals have been sampled by countless well-respected hip hop artists in the New York scene, and everywhere else. Well before The Sugar Hill Gang laid down the single that ‘started rap music,’ Gil Scott was already a legend in his own time.
I was honestly a little unsure of what to expect heading into this show. I’m not super familiar with the overall catalogue of work by either of these artists, but knew enough about them and had heard enough of their music to have an idea of what to expect.
Let me just say, there’s nothing like being pleasantly surprised. This was honestly one of the best live music shows I’ve seen in a long time. Even DJ Preservation on the wheels of steel was amazing with the pre-show warmup music, seamlessly weaving through a truckload of 45s on the turntables displaying his skills through a glorious soundwave of old-school funk, tribal African beats, 70s soul and countless other musical styles that provided a perfect backdrop for Friday night’s performers.
Best of all, the performers did their own thing wonderfully without stepping on each others’ grooves. Live hip hop shows are often nowhere near as satisfying as the recorded product. There’s often ancillary posse members on stage just for the hell of it, and too many cats up there with microphones shouting over each other and ruining the flow. Half the time, they’re not even on point with the rhythm of the music, and the whole thing just comes off sloppy.
Well my friends, no such thing on this night. Talib took the stage by himself, rocking the mic with only the DJ providing the music – the way it should be. And he put it down. He prowled the stage, sweating through a blistering set in the cramped space and moving the crowd like a real MC should. The melody in his songs came through perfectly, and the beats were tight. Not a weak song in the set.
After a break following his set, backed up yet again by some more heat rocks from DJ Preservation, out came the legend himself, Mr. Gil-Scott Heron. He spoke to the crowd the way he might an old friend, casually talking about his life experiences (including a few stints in prison over the past 10 years). The life experience in his voice was fascinating. His gravelly delivery and laid back, take-it-in-stride demeanor is probably the only way he’s still around today, after all he’s evidently been through in his life. His vocals were flawless. Have you ever been fortunate enough to see a live performer or singer who can’t possibly miss a note or sing something out of key because everything that comes out of his/her mouth is pure gold? That’s Gil Scott. Some cats are just born to sing. He’s one of them. He played his songs on an organ and just sang – simple yet effective. He was also laced with some harmonica by a fellow performer, and I would be completely remiss if I didn’t mention the saxophone stylings of another jazz bluesician legend who joined Mr. Gil Scott on stage, the legendary Gary Bartz.
All in all, a fabulous night of music, starting with a newer artist that represents true hip hop in the modern era (Talib Kweli), and ending it off by going back to the roots of what started it all, musical treasures Gil Scott Heron and Gary Bartz. These are the type of guys that laid the foundation for what artists like Public Enemy, Nas, Eric B. & Rakim, Jay-Z, EPMD, Slick Rick and countless others would turn into a musical movement that so many of us still know and love today.
Another one of those modern artists, one who was cut down way before his time, was the Notorious BIG. The 13th anniversary of his passing happened just a few weeks ago (March 9th), but you would never know it, aside from the occasional one or two-hour Biggie mash-up on your local urban radio station in memory of his greatness. This sadly proves that true hip hop, the real Golden Era stuff, is and has been dormant for a long time now. All that most of us have as a memory stick now is the glorious music and live performances of that era because as most of us know now, it’s not apparently present in any way, shape or form in the current urban music scene.
Many have theorized that when Biggie and Tupac died within a year of each other in 1996 and ’97, those two watershed events signaled the slow, metaphorical death of the art form (not just music scene, mind you) itself. It would be hard to argue that (but more on that for another time).
Those of us that love and revere true hip hop don’t just miss Biggie and Tupac. We miss the entire culture.
Fortunately, we have performances like Friday night’s at the Littlefield to remind us that true greatness isn’t completely dead. You just have to know where to look.
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