The Wake

We’re a spoiled bunch here in Minneapolis. American culture all too often confuses genuine hip-hop with the generic “Rap” we are spoon-fed on TV and the radio. However, we continue to sit pretty with one of the most legitimate (as in, actually music) hip-hop scenes in the states. At its origin, hip-hop is a progressive genre. It has taken the potential of music as a forum for social commentary to new and exciting heights. Although it has always enjoyed a close connection to parties and dancing, entertainment has recently turned into hip-hop’s sole purpose. Lyrically gifted MC’s are a scarce commodity in the mainstream, and the production of original beats has fallen victim to thievery and replication. As soon as one interesting song hits the charts, five similar follow, capitalizing on its success.

In these dark and depressing days of Chingys and Fat Joes, Rich Boys and T-Pains, Chamillionaires and Bow Wows, it’s easy to feel that all hope is lost. It seems that never again will the proud and respectable genre of hip-hop stand for anything, nor truly inspire anyone (aside from drunk teens to dance, but how hard is that?) On Tuesday, March 20th, The Roots came to First Avenue and proved to a roomful of Minnesotans that hip-hop, in the right hands, can still hit you like a bag of bricks. It can be both a political awakening and a dance party. It can be a musical experience second to none.

Opening act, Muja Messiah, kicked things off with a short set of four or five songs. His abilities as an MC were evident, but his posse of unconvincing hype men and dapperly dressed standers-by added little to the performance. A lyric in his first song touched on a reoccurring theme throughout the evening. “The third World War was in Iraq for oil, the fourth World War will be on American soil,” he assured with great timing and delivery. I was quite struck by the power and validity of this statement. Next up was the far superior Zion 1. This group was composed of two grungy lookin’ MC’s from Oakland, California, and a DJ who created beats live with his drum machines much in the vein of Nu-Mark from Jurassic 5. They took the stage and went right to work, rolling through an hour set and leaving the stage covered in sweat. They rapped quickly and aggressively without ever losing control, moving about and dominating the stage. Finally, in a sort of visual oasis, they broke into an all out dance session. My thirsty eyes were in disbelief. For so long we have been deprived of an MC willing to dance onstage worry free - to do some unrehearsed full body movin’, without checking every few seconds to make sure the hat is still on right or the pants haven’t fallen down. Refreshingly, Muja Messiah busted out some moves requiring more energy and risk than, say, a shoulder dust or pretending you’re driving a car.

After half an hour of waiting, the stage lights for The Roots finally came on. An upbeat jazz number sounded and all eyes were forward in full anticipation of their arrival. As the minutes passed, people began to wonder aloud what could be holding them up. To the delight and surprise of all, they appeared from the VIP room on the 2nd level. Though the excited fans lining the railing obstructed the view of those below, you could follow their progress as the dancing bodies turned. They went across to the opposite stairs, came down, and made their way through the crowd onto the stage. Each Roots member held a Cowbell, two in front and two behind the four members of Brass Heaven, the four piece from The Roots’ hometown of Philadelphia. A tuba, a trumpet, a trombone and a sax were their weapons of choice. Once on stage, they played out this jazz loop for 10 more minutes before the crowd could even applaud their arrival. The Roots weren’t here to impress; they were here to have a good time and appreciate some music like the rest.

After four extended versions from their newest album, Game Theory, bassist Leon “Hub” Hubbard blew minds for 15 minutes while the rest of the crew took a break off stage. With their return commenced a half hour cover session hitting most if not all of your old favorites: “Get By” by Talib Kweli, “Just A Friend” by Biz Markie, “Apache” by the Sugar Hill Gang, “187” by Snoop Dogg, “Goin Down” by Yung Joc, “This Is Why I’m Hot” by someone whom I’m sure has a similarly ridiculously stupid name, “Killer Bees” by Wu-Tang Clan, and “Push It” by Salt N’ Pepa, to name just a few. They covered three other songs at greater length later on in the show: “Immigrant Song” by Led Zeppelin, “Roxanne” by the Police, and finally a 25 minute, incomprehensibly sweet version of Bob Dylan’s “Masters of War.”

Everyone had left the stage except drummer Ahmir “?uestlove” Thompson, guitarist Captain Kirk Douglas, and Brass Heaven’s Saxaphonist. ?uestlove then made a few comments in the same mindset as the before-mentioned lyrics by Muja Messiah. “This next song is about government’s sending their citizens to their deaths over bullshit ass wars like the one we’re in now,” he quipped from behind his blue, fluorescently lit throne of a trap set. Douglas sang the first verse of the song to the tune of the “Star Spangled Banner” while strumming it circa Jimmy Hendrix. It worked to an effect far surpassing any I could have expected. They then threw a tribal spin on it for five minutes or so, followed by the next verse in the mode of full-fledged rock. It was during this segment, after relaying the line “You put a gun in my hand / And you hide from my eyes / And you turn and run farther / When the fast bullets fly,” that Douglas propped his guitar up like a gun and roamed the stage, aiming down all those in the front row. It was a theatrical and captivating moment. ?uestlove took over with a 6 or 7 minute drum solo, during which each drum lit up when struck. Next was Douglas with a 5-minute guitar solo fringing on perfection. The final verse tied it all together. It was a fitting and deserved testament to a song from our proudest son with words which have never rung truer than today.

The band played on, the concert eventually reaching nearly three hours in length. A rousing rendition of “Jungle Boogie” swerved in and out as they played some of their biggest hits, “Don’t Feel Right,” “Next Movement,” and “Don’t Say Nothing.” Brass Heaven then took the stage for themselves, filling the room with some soul-stirring and head bobbing jazz. ?uestlove would eventually move over to a smaller kit at the front of the stage, orchestrating the four brassmen like a seasoned conductor. The genuine sense of fun on stage was contagious: smiles, exaggerated guitar strokes and symbol crashes, choreographed moves and show closing dance lines. As ?uestlove “Prince” shuffled his way across the stage, I was at a loss for desires. I couldn’t have asked for anything more.