Monday night Fortune Sound Club installed a roller coaster. The Beatnuts 20th Anniversary Show had me up, down and all-around, alternately pulling the floor out from under me and tearing the fuckin’ roof off. And just when I thought I had the show pegged as a zig, that shit would zag. I haven’t been this mixed up since my acid days.
DJ Seko had whipped the place into a damned frenzy by the time we arrived. My camera-monkeys Jay Haddow and, making his R2AK debut here, Captain Arthritis assembled their gear as I took my place next to A.T. The Bartender. A.T. and I spent the remainder of Seko’s set arguing over which of us loved the currently playing song more. (Spoiler: A.T.’s shriveled heart is the size of Terrence Howard’s pee-in-his-own-pubes-peen. Ergo, he is incapable of love. Ergo, I win.) Back to shit that matters (so, pretty much anything other than A.T.) – Seko has the exact same taste in classic hip hop as I do, so, while I was tapping my toes, it was not out of impatience. It was as close as I get to dancing. In fact, I was as close as I could get to the dance floor, cause that motherfucker was packed tight!
Take Cookie Monster, about half of Big Daddy Kane and another dude and you’ve got local trio Brass Tackz. Much to his chagrin, Cookie Monster failed to render the crowd deaf with his nails-on-chalkboard Onyx impression. Much to the crowd’s chagrin, later in the set, they brought some chick onstage to do a chorus and she completed CM’s mission. Later in the night, he came over and grabbed a sticker we had been using as a coaster and held it up to the identical logo on his chest before bestowing it upon A.T. to cherish forever. He then turned his rhinestone hat inside out and vanished in a puff of ‘meh’ smoke.
Beatbox and battle champ Emotionz came out next, and I was amped to see him. Although not really my steez, his sheer MC-ing talent still shone through in his quadruple-time, super speed, tongue Twista raps. When the whips had been ghost-ridden, Emotionz locked us in the room with his ‘might-as-well-leave-your-anal-virginity-at-coat-check’ beatbox. (Little known fact: his beatbox once slapped a baby across the face with a puppy.) Hey, Emotionz. Just so you know: you’re not E-40. You’re Rahzel!
It’s Da ‘Nuts! Backed by that familiar thump they’ve rolled with for two decades, JuJu and Psycho Les took the stage and our undivided attention. I’d actually like to take this opportunity to applaud the crowd. They worked just as hard as the main act, and energy was kept at critical mass for (almost) the entire set. Crowd: you get props over here. (Except for that freakishly tall bitch that decided to climb the furniture and perch her towering self directly in between the stage and me. When you were sitting on the floor, I had to use A.T. as a footstool to see over you. Admittedly, a maneuver I’m not unfamiliar with. Still, I hope you get poached, you fuckin’ giraffe.)
The highs and lows of the openers were reflected in The Intoxicated Demons’ set. Psycho Les did most of the heavy lifting and didn’t slack a minute. I always preferred JuJu’s voice, but he seemed to be fighting losing it that night. Still, he remained a presence throughout, whether on the drum machine, or pausing to share a drink with his partner-in-rhyme, or just making ridiculous faces that still make me laugh out loud to think about.
Every time they hit us with a classic, the whole club’s collective knees buckled. Watch Out Now and Off The Books in particular made the place go bananas. The rest of the time, I found myself imagining that this must be what a Rolling Stones show would be like. Hair-raising at it’s peaks, with the entire venue’s populace hanging on, and singing along to, every word. But then they gotta go and do stuff from their post-1981 catalogue. Here’s a request from me to all aging, legendary acts: when you’re old, stick to your old shit. Pretty much on cue, right as I had that thought, they launched into a brand new song from their upcoming album, ‘Planet of the Crates.’ Not sure of the title, but they repeated the phrases “That’s An Important Thing” and “Get Some Money.” And it was fucking great. Touché, ‘Nuts. I spoke too soon, and I’ll eat my words. Around this time, A.T. said something about how many hip hop clichés were being lobbed around. “Procure paper items which can be exchanged, when in correct denominations, for goods and services!” “Place your upper limbs in the space above you, like you are unconcerned with said action!” “Name a garden tool out loud!” (Looking around that night, I felt like the last one was more of an observation than a request.) Anyhow, I retorted that, when you’ve been rapping for twenty years, things that are a cliché in the mouths of others are probably just a trademark or habit for you. Then I slit his motherfuckin’ throat. (Waitin’ for the motherfuckin’ school bus, aaarrgghhh!!!)
The Beatnuts set drew to a close as they invited a bunch of chicks up on stage to shake all of their shake-ables for the final songs, gave the front row some pounds and bounced (presumably to follow the chorus’ advice of their song Psycho Dwarf). If you wanna see the madness for your damn self, take that ass to The Shooting Gallery.
Oh, I almost forgot. Earlier in The Beatnuts’ set, Cookie Monster re-appeared on stage for a split second and simulated some sort of excitement-seizure when The ‘Nuts thanked the openers for warming up the stage for them. JuJu chuckled and said something to the effect of, “Oh, to be young again.” I, on the other hand, thought to myself, “I’m getting’ too old for this shit…”
No Danny Glover.
– Nuv
