Nas at the House of Blues 8/10/08

Perhaps hip-hop isn't dead...after witnessing Nas at the house of Blues perform with Talib Kweli headlining, I'd say that it was resurrectin'! Okay so the tickets said the doors would open at 6:30 pm. My fiance was kind of leery of this because he had arrived an hour earlier than the time listed on the ticket the preious year only to wait an additional 3 hours standing to be told that Nas would not be coming(Nas mentioned this during the concern and seemed to intimate that the concert administration was responsible for this...hmmm.) So we decided to arrive at 7:30 pm when the show was supposed to start.

Okay I got kids...as in kidzzz. Two babies under the age of 3. Their lovely presence of course necessitated a drop off visit to grandma's house(my fiance's mom) who would watch them for the evening. Now lest you think that rocking out at concerts is the norm for me and mine, let me underscore our homebody status by saying this: we never get out but for the health of our relationship and our parental sanity...we try. So a bit of background on my sweetie and I...yes we had our children out of wedlock...no, we don't live together because we're trying to reroute things and do it the right way this time and yes we plan on marrying....which we actually did on 8/16/08 BUT I'll save that for another post when I have the pics back...Anyways...we were talking about Nas.

We ran helter skelter around from one end of our county to the next to drop the kids off at Grandma's house before racing back to the concert venue and feverishly searching for parking. We were a bit later than 7:30 BUT the show didn't start until 9pm...and I believe that House of Blues does this intentionally in order to coerce the concertgoers in purchasing overpriced drinks. Oh...and yes I'm a Christian and Yes I do drink...moderately on social occasions...Jesus turned water to wine...no the wine was not different from today there were no qualifiers in that scripture....as the apostle Paul said: all things are permissible but not all things are expedient. Becoming a raving drunk just isn't expedient. Anyway....House of Blues drinks are overpriced...but you haven't heard that from me.

So we stood in a hot, crowded, room for around 2 hours waiting for Talib Kweli to hit the stage. He finally came on around 9:30. He was good. Sang a couple of songs from back in the day when he was with Black Starrs. Then he leaves and the waiting begins again because Nas doesn't come on until 10:30. When he did, he tore the stage up! It was a good show. He did a full catalogue of songs from his illmatic CD, touched on a few from his latest, ni$%er. He also went back in the day for the true fans. My guy was practically screaming the lyrics to every song. It made me happy to see him so happy which marked one of the final turns to marriedville for us.

All in all...great show....and now we head off to the Southern Comfort free concert this weekend to see the Black Keys and Common perform...Oh Yeah! Rock on.

Seeing Rock on the Side... Hip-hop is gettin' jealous

I am rolling along in my 1992 Dodge Caravan. My little van, I refer to her as Etta Mae, rolled off the assembly line at the height of the hip hop era, the early 90s. Etta may even score some cool points in a grassroots kind of way. I like to imagine the group Tribe called Quest would have scrawled love epithets on her sides and ridden her over to the mythical Bonita Applebaum’s house before heading to a show at Madison Square. De La Soul would have piled on in along with rapper Too Short, and DJ KRS one. We would have had a party beat-boxing down the road rebirthing slick as we drew stares from folks who just couldn’t get it. Etta Mae is white with large rust spots in the original exterior paint, there is a primer painted trunk lid picked up from a junkyard and put on by my fiancé and his dad one lazy Saturday afternoon to replace the original trunk that a distracted driver on a cell phone in his car dented at a stoplight. She’s also a family car, meaning that hoochies and video hos’ are not allowed. I have two babies in the back middle seat and at times there are goldfish crackers and Thomas the Tank engine books tossed about. The entire interior is a conglomerate of torn carpet, aging upholstery and rusting mechanical ligaments that get me from point A to point B. She is old. She would never pass muster with modern hip hop. She doesn’t have any bling. Ahh..

I don’t use my AC because I am afraid that some invisible noxious fumes issuing from it might kill my little canaries as they bicker and slurp juice from their sippy cups. The cool air just isn’t worth the level of anxiety. Therefore you can spot me from National City to Escondido and all points between pushing my geriatric whip [car] with the windows rolled down and my stereo bumping loud melodies. I used to spend my days as I ran errands pushing buttons between the three hip-hop stations in my burg humming along to the constantly regurgitated playlist, this has changed.

It began slowly with a meandering search across the airwaves for something that fit my mood one afternoon. I was feeling low key, less bravado, more ...floating on a pink cotton candy cloud. The momentum of the change gathered speed when more troubling events occurred. There was the anecdotal evidence that my son began to provide. Instead of singing warbled versions of Raffi like most two year olds, he began to sing about strippers sliding down poles with no panties on. One can only imagine the tragically comic picture of a toddler dancing in their nonsensical way while singing, “She had boots with the fur, she got low low low… she ridin she ridin.. she slid her booty down the pole…” Yeah, yeah...I know...my thoughts exactly. My son did not learn this medley in an obscure den of iniquity. He did not find a secret adult stash in my home or watch late night cable TV. My son heard these songs in the middle of the day on one of the popular San Diego hip-hop radio stations owned by broadcasting corporation, Clear Channel.

More and more I found myself switching the channel to the two alternative San Diego rock stations. There is the well known 91.1 which I believe has some ties to the corporate thief of souls, Clear channel. Then there’s 94.9 which is not only newer but is trying to remain close with their independent roots. I've begun to take especial comfort in a segment on 94.9 in the evenings called “Big Sonic Chill” which featured little known acoustic and electrical selections.

I feel like I'm cheating on hip-hop or doing something incredibly naughty every time that I mosey over to the rock side of things...but hey at least I don't feel like I have to wash my kids' ears out with soap each time that we listen...I don't know, I guess I love hip-hop and rap enough to remember the days back when the artists were actually talking about something beyond what happened at the strip club last night and how much money they have...yeah well, that's my piece. Word!(hehe)