Idolator Rocks The Bells, Develops Kyphosis

Greetings from “at large”! Like any good penitent, my self-imposed blogging exile has included certain dietary restrictions. Fer instance consuming as little music released in 2008 as possible. But spending the day slopping about in music-related nostalgia is still OK, because otherwise I would have to turn to Jack Van Impe reruns or honest work. That’s why this weekend, while Maura was taking in the horror what Fat Mike and/or the Get Up kids wrought, I was at the Rock The Bells tour, a package deal involving hip-hop’s geriatric giants that is not a “festival” but a “hip-hop platform,” presumably because it’s easy for socially conscious rappers to steal juice from political terminology in an election year. We (meaning me and photographer Frank Hamilton) scammed our way in with Idolator’s press credentials (and strategic puppy dog eyes), so the usual guilt meant I wouldn’t be able to enjoy myself if I didn’t type something up after the fact. (Plus Maura made me.) What did we learn? Well, for one thing, we learned that if your blog ass tries to stand on concrete in a “golden age of hip-hop” gulag for 12 hours, it seriously fucks your back up. (According to Maura’s account from emo-ville, this is a pan-genre festival problem.) Two, that if our nation’s enemies (except for those Iranian fibbers) had targeted Columbia, Md., with their nuclear whatnot on Sunday, they’d have evaporated just about every rapper that made my high school years tolerable. To wit:

Raekwon. Ghostface. Mos Def. Method Man. Redman. The Pharcyde. Rakim. De La Soul. Nas. A Tribe Called Quest. A bunch of younger cats who would probably start YouTube beefs with certain teenage rappers if Ice-T hadn’t beaten them to it. Truly a line-up to cause spontaneous pants-moistening/maxed-out credit cards among certain message board habitués.

It was a weird (yet enjoyable) day. For one thing, very little has changed since David Toop wrote this in the second edition of Rap Attack back when we were all using BBSes and Usenet: “On stage, their music was a massive boom, Rakim’s menacing voice devoured in the jaws of bass.” (Which I always took to mean you can’t always hear the words so good at hip-hop gigs.) For another, excepting regional and/or indie and/or under-35 show-openers like Wale and Immortal Technique and Dead Prez, none of these guys have released anything close to their freshest (or even most iconic) material this millennium.^* And no one quite seemed to know where they were, which made all-important shout-outs difficult. Raekwon, for instance, refused to acknowledge any city other than Baltimore. Nas, on the other hand, was so convinced we were in D.C. he might as well have had a go-go band or a phallic monument on stage. (For the record, Columbia is situated somewhere between Baltimore and Washington, in a place with some trees and a lot of mini-malls disguised as “shopping districts.”)

Things got off to a slow (yet antsy) start. Self-aggrandizing Murs and Washington-area fave Wale had a few Red Bulls before figuring out what to do with the big ol’ festival stage other than pogo. Conversely, and in addition to being hobbled with that name, rap nerd blog pick Jay Electronica had the heart-on-sleeve presence of the very earnest fellow who shows up at your kegger wanting to talk about how society’s going to hell in a gas-guzzling handcart. Actual rabble-rousing was handled by Dead Prez and Immortal Technique, and the latter’s OTT fuck-the-police silliness aimed at a bunch of P.G. County kids made Stic.man and M1 seem positively pop-friendly by comparison. Rakim was dressed like Batman^** to Soulja Boy’s Robin during a perfunctory “I’m still here/new album coming soon” set. Perhaps that’s why he was eager to keep things clean for the kids in the audience, leaving it to Redman and Method Man to compliment the Maryland/D.C. area on the quality of its genitalia. (Well, the female genitalia, anyway.) De La Soul is fat and cuddly and engaging as ever, and Nas stole a flagging show (thanks to Mos “look at me, I’m an artiste” Def) with a rousing rendition of his anti-Fox News diatribe “Sly Fox” (live it almost goes from admirably embarrassing to enjoyable) and a super-hammy “One Mic.” He’s matured into quite a charismatic performer, that Nasir.

I avoided the second stage–containing such blog-friendly acts as the Cool Kids and Ninjasonik–because I couldn’t deal with seeing Afrika Bambaataa’s face when he realized he’d been billed second to Spank Rock. Sorry. Speaking of Baltimore (which we kinda were?), Mos Def brought out club DJ Blaq Starr for a tune that is supposedly on Mos’ new album? I couldn’t hear what Mos was saying clearly because his new (?) “Cutty Ranks with styling by Ed Banger and your grandma’s hope chest” routine had forced me to flee the stage area. And then, after 12 hours of enough “if you love real hip-hop say hell yeah” to turn the heartiest brains and strongest legs to humidity-addled mush, we waited for a half-hour in near total darkness for… a solo set by Q-Tip! At least he didn’t sing? Much? For this I missed the Mad Men premiere? I needed to go put my feet in a mineral bath.

Nah, it was fun. If I sound cranky, it’s because my out-of-shape self is still sore. You should go, especially if you can also scam your way in via “blog credentials.” (Judging by the amount of cell phone cams in the photo pit, this shouldn’t be too hard.) And if the “platform” hasn’t rolled through yr burg already. And if you’re crusty enough (like me) to mistake Hotstylz for the “Get Silly” dude in conversation while complaining about pubescent pop fans in a Walter Matthau voice that might not be a joke. (Sigh.) And thus ends Idolator’s weekend of pretending-we-can-still-hack-outdoor-festivals, as I’ve gone on long enough considering I didn’t even take notes because I needed my hands free to eat pigs-in-a-blanket in the hospitality shack. (Thereby pissing off Ghostface/the NOI. Though I suppose they coulda been teeny little all-beef wieners?)

Rock The Bells [Official Site]
[Photos by Frank Hamilton]

^* Except Ghostface. Maybe.
^**I realize that description doesn’t make much sense since Batman and Robin’s costumes don’t look anything alike, but really I just felt like sharing that linked Batman pic.