The Nappy Diatribe

A Few things I learned at a recent Roots show..

Posted 10/05/2007 at 9:15 PM  |  4 comment/s

When Vibe.com first gave me the opportunity to write for them I was extremely grateful, having the opportunity to reach audiences outside of disgruntled Hip Hop fans and chicks that find my pre-ejaculatory tales concerning my unimpressive black phallus "sexy" was a phenomenal honor - it filled me with child-like exuberance like those rare moments when a chick tells me that I don't have to reciprocate oral. So to show my appreciation I made a concerted effort to be the human embodiment of professionalism, the first two concerts that I covered for my Vibe blog(The Roots and Robin Thicke) I was dryer than a Dane Cook performance in the Sahara Desert on those occasions. Without a drop of liquor inside of my portly frame, sporting my seldom used spectacles and a notepad that made me look like my nickname should be "Scoop" or some shit - I diligently dictated the events of the night like a court stenographer on steroids. I never knew sober concert-going could be so beneficial, the events of the night that I later recalled ever so clearly, the mandibles of men that I didn't feel the need to forcefully adjust with my fists - and sure my writing was better because of me not digesting any malted hops or grain alcohol, but not getting slapped for telling a woman that I'd like to sodomize her on the floor of a public restroom was kind of nice.

But as soon as I found out that the Roots were performing with Big Daddy Kane last week, part of VH1's "Hip-Hop Honors Tour" - I knew that my days of acting like a god-damned Christian fundamentalist at Hip Hop shows was over. Me throwing professionalism out of the proverbial window is no disrespect to Vibe mind you, but I wanted to get back to my roots(pun unintended) - back when I treated the concert-going experience merely as the soundtrack music to my inebriation. So already a few sheets to the wind before I even entered the venue, my penchant for ruining my liver provided me the opportunity to thoroughly enjoy witnessing Black Thought and Madd Skillz navigate old school classics as if their microphones had a GPS System inside them - and prompted me to passionately put my hand over my heart and stand at attention when Big Daddy Kane uttered the words ".. So let's all sing the Big Daddy anthem" while performing the song "Set it Off".

But a funny thing happened in between my 20 digested beers, my epileptic head nods, and telling random women that 4 out of 5 dermatologists agree that my sperm is a miracle acne cure - I found myself actually learning something.

Black Thought is one of the best rappers breathing: I know I shouldn't let them get to me, the rouges gallery of inbred mental midgets over at MTV who make up those abysmal "Best Of" Hip Hop lists - but Black Thought not even being considered for the "Hottest MC's" list just proves that the "Brain Trust" over at MTV really have their collective ears to the street, specifically the road in front of Lil Wayne's house that is. Because Vibe.com doesn't want a major lawsuit on their hands I won't threaten anyone specifically with violence, why chin-check someone for a mere opinion - but I can't lie and say that I didn't want to pay certain people a visit, ask them "Were you responsible for putting Jim Jones in your Top 10?" and then proceed to handle it on some Jay and Silent Bob shit. That being said, I'm fully aware that I was more of a Malik B guy back in the day - but the marksmen-like freestyle, the infinite breath control, and the way he perfectly mimicked Guru's "Brooklyn by way of Boston" accent while performing "Just to Get a Rep" makes it this writers humble opinion that Black Thought is the deadliest MC on the planet.(For more Black Thought worship, go here)

Mushing Girls is my favorite pastime: Mush:(verb)urban dictionary definition: The act of placing ones hand on another person's face and pushing the person backwards.

Nothing beats a woman who loves real Hip Hop, I'm the furthest thing from the romantic type - but when I envision the pillow-talk that me and the future Mrs. HumanityCritic will one day have, I see the both of us lovingly quizzing each other on who Salt & Pepa's original DJ was and what rapper appeared in both the "Self Destruction" and "We're all in the same gang" videos. To see that fine example of womankind at a Hip Hop show just warms my soul and gives me baby arm-esque erections at the same time - when I witnessed a young sister lip-sync Masta Ace's verse in "The Symphony", I did my best to indiscreetly wipe a solitary tear from my eye. But if there is one thing that I detest, regardless of race - are women who are nothing more than interlopers, showing their disrespect by paying no attention to the actual artist and acting like they are being filmed for "Girls Gone Wild". Case in point, there was a group of drunk ass girls who kept screaming gibberish, drunkenly hugging each other - inadvertently bumping into me whenever the opportunity seem to present itself, a list of egregious offenses. Maybe it was the liquor, but I was getting annoyed - so when one of them happened to spill her entire drink on the back of my leg, I did what any red blooded American male would do. I ever so gently palmed both women's faces and mushed them back into the arms of their loving boyfriends - I know I should feel bad about it, but I don't, I actually want to make it a ritual at every show that I attend.

Ok, Maybe I was wrong about Skillz: "Hello, I'm HumanityCritic - and I'm a hater." I'm fully aware that this guy has ghostwritten a gang of shit over the years, and maybe "hate" is the wrong word - but ever since I saw him destroy the microphone at A Tribe Called Quest show almost 13 years ago, I guess I've been more disappointed than anything based on the direction that I thought his career would go. I wasn't feeling the album he dropped, I was tired of seeing him at shows without any respectable material out - and each year it seemed like he'd do those "Year-end wrap up" songs just to specifically fuck with me and remind a brother of his mishandled potential. So the last few years I've said some pretty unkind things about my fellow Virginia representative, words that I found myself dining on without the proper seasoning as I saw the dude give one hell of a performance - even doing some new material, usually a faux Pas for most performers, but the songs were actually doper than a George W. Bush urine sample circa 1973. Fuck it, when I'm wrong - I'm wrong.

Sorry, I'm still not a fan of the Clipse: I guess because the tour happened to be in Virginia, after Black Thought and Madd Skills ran through some Hip Hop classics and Kane performed his first set - Questlove asked Virginia Beach's own the Clipse to appear on stage as if it was some sort of special treat for the audience. Not for nothing, but bringing the Clipse out on stage after the lyrical onslaught that the audience was just put on the business end of is like having a delightfully deviant orgy with Beyonce and Salma Hayek - only for someone to whisk them away and say "Try fucking Amy Winehouse for a while!!" Talk about anti-climatic. We all know that rappers continuously lie on wax about the criminal activities that they were a part of, as well as their deep involvement when it comes to the drug trade - but the facade becomes impossible to ignore when said artist is from your area and you know for a fact that they are full of shit like leaky colostomy bags. Damn man, them being drug dealers is a constant motif in their songs - the only thing I could do while they were performing was to fold my arms, think about Pat Robertson being our neighbor, and screaming "We don't believe you, you need more people!!!!"

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