What would you do, if you could do anything at all? Ask Mos Def, and his answer will probably be: "everything." This fascination with every style under the sun has always been a mixed blessing for him - on The New Danger and True Magic, it was his achilles heel, the thing that made those records feel like collections without purpose; yet on The Ecstatic, that very same inclination for shape-shifting was what effectively restored his mojo. But what The Ecstatic proved more than anything, was that if Mos doesn't have something solid to orbit around, he's likely to spin out. His live sets follow the same line of logic.
On stage Mos looks at his tracks like skeletons to be shaped, much like a jazz man would. They are there to be deconstructed and played with, nurtured and pushed. Unlike the Lauryn Hill concert I covered last week, this did not mean new arrangements for known songs; his music sounds how you'd expect it to, only with more blue-note experimentation on the vocals, and a much looser structure. Sometimes the songs felt like they had been stretched out like a long string of taffy - there, but not as compact. For an established fan like myself, this was typically a good thing, but for that prospective believer out in the audience, I could see it being a little too shapeless at times. It was also a pretty low-key show in both tone and delivery, so if someone came in expecting revelatory cut after revelatory cut, they were destined to walk out disappointed. He wasn't out to wow.
It was more like he was in his own world, focused on his croon-rhyme attack and the drums he liked to bang on. That is not to say he didn't speak to us. Humbly, he thanked us for coming, and asked that we not shout out requests, "we've got it figured out," he said in that coolly collected way of his. He wasn't a dick, he was just being honest. He wanted to rock globe trot beats; he came to play The Ecstatic. His fans let him have that one, and honestly, they were probably too lost in their swoons to care, choosing instead to shimmy along with him as he dropped sizzlers like "Auditorium," and "Supermagic."
The more I watched though, the more his show seemed to be the product of a jazz nut. It was in the instrumentation coming out of the turntables (trumpet, flute, upright bass); it was in his words, spoken like a slam poet lounging on their Sunday; it was even in his microphone, which looked like something that used to dangle in front of Billie Holiday and the other great jazz singers of her time. Incorporating jazz into hip hop is nothing new, backpackers of all stripes have been doing this for awhile now, but rarely do you see a show coming out of that sect that actually harnesses the feeling of live jazz. The only other act I've seen do it is the Beastie Boys, and even that, was just for a small, instrumental portion of their show. Granted, by tapping into this space you might get something that will alienate some or make others believe that perhaps Mos Def took a few too many hits before stepping up to that super-cool microphone. Which is ok, because what you will also get is a charge in the room that only comes when someone isn't playing to your expectations. And the latter is why you come out for shows in the first place.
Periodically, he would stop to spit a verse A capella like he knew he needed to remind us of his status as a titan. This is where you became humbled by his talent. Say what you want about his consistency when it comes to albums, but the man knows his way around words. Slant rhymes, internal rhymes, end rhymes, alliteration, repetition - he used all the twists and turns of poetry to make his point, and in doing so, reminded us of two things: hip hop, at it's very best, is simply a poet's words to music, and a great poet makes it worth wadding through the rough.
And to all you old fans, I've got bad news: Mos might be over Black on Both Sides. Only "Umi Says," and "Hip Hop" made an appearance, leaving the rest of the set to come across like The Ecstatic on shuffle. I'm fine with Mos giving up Black Star, but BoBS can't die. It's too essential. The lyrics are too good. Thing is, even if he had played more from it, the rest of the show still might have been arrived at the same place it ended up anyway: pretty good. It was kind of like winning some money on a slot machine, you're excited you won, but you still wish it had been the jackpot. So, will I go again? Possibly. But should you see him at least once? Most definitely.
The biggest letdown of the evening came at the hands of misinformation. You see, one of the reasons I was so pumped about seeing this show was because I thought New Orleans' own, Hot 8 Brass Band would be joining Mos Def on stage. "Once in a lifetime," I thought. Turns out, the Hot 8 were only booked for their own set, and I would not be yelling "1-2-3. It's Mos Def and the H-O-T" from the top of my lungs later that night. After I shook it off, I started to count my blessings. At least I got to see Hot 8 again, and if you've seen them before, you know why that's cause for some glee.
This set was the third show of their Soul'd Out "Artist in Residence" stint, and the boys (there are really 9 players in the Hot 8) had visibly settled into their temporary home. They were up there like they owned the joint, just blowing brass and telling us what they wanted us to do. For some acts, this might come off as presumptuous, especially since I'd wager this was most people's first time seeing Hot 8, but if I had to lay their talent down on one thing, it would be that they have an uncanny ability for making you feel like part of their group. To do this, they open up a dialogue from the very first song. They talk with you, they tell you they want to kick it at the after party, and then they shake the room with their instruments. It's a positive message and a mammoth wall of sound, and I can think of no better band to embody the spirit of Soul'd Out than them. I mean, shit, they play most the styles Soul'd Out is repping: soul, r&b (New Orleans, in their case), reggae, jazz, etc. All I know is that if our long lost brothers from the 5-0-4 want to come back, all of us here in the 5-0-3 will gladly put them up.
A New Orleans brass band was definitely the outlier of the night, as the first two opening slots belonged to local hip hop artists. I missed the first, but arrived just in time to catch the second: Mic Crenshaw. With a voice like Scarface and a physique like a D1 linebacker, Mic Crenshaw was the recipient of the worst fate of any of the artists that night: technical difficulties. He rose to the occasion though, using his time to connect with the audience through A capella after a long explanation about why it's important to him that his message comes through clean. When he added in the beats, your heart switched to an auto-pilot named bass, but it was in the moments where it was just him and his voice that everyone could see his ability. As to be expected from a regional slam champion, what came out was a socially conscious collection of syllables that echoed deep statements about politics, the economy and personal growth. He still couldn't write a solid chorus, but I don't fault him for that. It is a quiet disease that afflicts most hip hop artists and there seems to be no cure on the horizon. Let's just hope someone comes up with something soon. Until then, check out the song "Yeah;" and I'm out like Mos Def, "peace, peace, peace, peace."
Setlist:
Supermagic
Priority
Auditorium
Casa Bey
Sung over McFadden & Whitehead's "Ain't No Stopping Us Now"
The Embassy
Life in Marvelous Times
[Unknown song]
Hip Hop
Oh No
Sped up version of "The Message" > Close Edge
[Unknown song]
Bedstuy Parade & Funeral March
Pistola
Drum Solo > Quiet Dog Bite Hard
Cream of the Planet
Umi Says
Travellin' Man
