I'm a Male Model, Not a Male Prostitute!
Bring out yer b-boys! Handsome Boy Modeling School is in town. Well, to be fair, they were here last night. From what I could tell, despite their best efforts to get their entourage laid, they were leaving the city well before dawn. Not that the boys couldn't get the hook-up, just that it had to be in the bathroom at the 9:30 Club.
Let me start out by saying that last night was the most diverse crowd I've seen at the 9:30 since the Roots in, like '99. Not that I make it to many hip-hop shows any more. And not that the crowd was representative of the Chocolate City, but sometimes you take what you can get. Oh, and to the tall ass mo-fo next to me, yeah, it was real dope that you knew all the words to the songs. The fact that you could even pump your fists at exactly the moment of emphasis really made me question my own status as a fan.
As for the show, eh. I believe that I've said it before, Sunday night shows are brutal. I hope I don't go to another one any time soon. The crowd was lethargic, and the start and stop rhythm of song-skit-song-skit-song wore on me. Don't get me wrong, Prince Paul and Dan the Automator were solid and entertaining, but with a group whose albums rely so heavily on guest vocalists, its got to be difficult to pull the big names on tour.
The highlight of the night was clearly Dres from Black Sheep. You know, Black Sheep. Yes, you do. Engine, engine number nine on the New York Transit line. If the train goes off the track...pick it up...pick it up...pick it up! Well, if you don't remember, then you are like half the audience last night. If you do remember, well, you probably would have been singing along, while wondering how in the hell you remembered all of these lyrics from 1991.
Oh, and if you have any qualms with sexual objectification to the point of misogyny, I would suggest not going. There was a whole lot of titty appreciation happening on stage.
Let me start out by saying that last night was the most diverse crowd I've seen at the 9:30 since the Roots in, like '99. Not that I make it to many hip-hop shows any more. And not that the crowd was representative of the Chocolate City, but sometimes you take what you can get. Oh, and to the tall ass mo-fo next to me, yeah, it was real dope that you knew all the words to the songs. The fact that you could even pump your fists at exactly the moment of emphasis really made me question my own status as a fan.
As for the show, eh. I believe that I've said it before, Sunday night shows are brutal. I hope I don't go to another one any time soon. The crowd was lethargic, and the start and stop rhythm of song-skit-song-skit-song wore on me. Don't get me wrong, Prince Paul and Dan the Automator were solid and entertaining, but with a group whose albums rely so heavily on guest vocalists, its got to be difficult to pull the big names on tour.
The highlight of the night was clearly Dres from Black Sheep. You know, Black Sheep. Yes, you do. Engine, engine number nine on the New York Transit line. If the train goes off the track...pick it up...pick it up...pick it up! Well, if you don't remember, then you are like half the audience last night. If you do remember, well, you probably would have been singing along, while wondering how in the hell you remembered all of these lyrics from 1991.
Oh, and if you have any qualms with sexual objectification to the point of misogyny, I would suggest not going. There was a whole lot of titty appreciation happening on stage.
posted by Fletch at
3:23 PM
1 Comments:
it's true, there was a lot of titty appreciation on stage. I thought about getting all bent out of shape, but it was Sunday night and I was tired. Not to mention that I spent 4 years doing that at Wes. Getting bent out of shape that is. I wasn't much of a titty appreciator. Not then. Or now really.
By
Lauren, at 4:21 PM
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