Powerhouse 2005

I know, I know Jordan came back, fatter and slower after he “ended” his career in storybook fashion. I know Magic Johnson, Steven King, Mario Lemieux, Too Short, Ricky Williams, have all returned to the kind of fanfare expected at a Ku Klux Klan rally through historic Bedford Stuyvesant in Brooklyn. But this Jay-Z guy, man he's different. Granted he hasn’t gone anywhere at all, but since he has “come back” he has been nearly beyond reproach.

But, Shawn Corey Carter a.k.a. Jay-Z says he’s retiring. He says it’s a wrap. “There’s nothing cool about a 40yr old rap artist.” Conversely, he offers “I can do this till I’m 80” on newly released, “Be like Hov”. (check AllHipHop.com I am link deficient, thanks to www.50h7.com) But for whatever it’s worth, he took two victory laps last week, and I saw the last one live.

I have been to several concerts in my life and can mark my favorite artists by those I have seen perform live. For all of the artists that I can call my “favorite” I proudly boast a collection of their live performances on CD. This is mostly because after seeing them live, hearing a radio edit just isn’t the same. I like to hear the crowd noise. I like to hear the slurs and heavy breathing that comes from being winded in front of thousands of fans who hang on their hero’s every word and will recite them when and if s/he runs out of breath.

Concert Resume: (just so you know from whence I evaluate)
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In no particular order...
Janet Jackson/Usher...Velvet Rope Tour
Lauryn Hill...The Miseducation Tour
The Roots (Philly twice/ Emory/, The Atlanta Roxy-twice)
Smoking Grooves Tour (Ziggy Marley and the Wailers, Tribe Called Quest, The Fugees, Busta Rhymes, Musiq Soulchild, Jurassic 5, Outkast)
Hard Knock Life (Redman & Method Man, DMX, Jay-Z)
Jill Scott
Musiq
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He would perform to a sold out venue at the Wachovia Center in the South Philly Sports Complex near the Walt Whitman Bridge in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. This was the second basketball arena the self-proclaimed “Mike Jordan of Rap” would play in as many days. The former, his partially owned New Jersey Net’s Continental Arena.

Wonder Woman got us the tickets. She has a big thing against publicity so I will refrain from using her real name. So I had to pick Gabby up from the 30th Street Station (sorry Gabby, Wonder Woman is too long to keep typing) as she was coming from New York just in time to make the show. I had spent the day going through Reasonable Doubt, Linkin Park and Jay-Z, all the volumes, the unplugged album, all the Blueprints, and the entire compilation of Black album remixes. Needless to say I was prepared. So as I hit traffic crossing the bridge from Jersey to Philly, I was undaunted. I had good music to keep me company. I had to brush up on my lyrics. There is nothing like sitting next to an Asian kid in the concert who is looking at you crazy cause you don’t know the second verse of “Streets is Watching”.

I know Philly pretty well so avoiding the concertgoers’ traffic should have been easy. But despite my twists and turns there was always a bumper in front and behind me. After much consternation we arrive at the most convenient of parking lots and drop the cool $10 for a spot that wouldn’t cause me to have to worry about who would be joy ridding in the whip.

The Show:

We stop at the concession stand for two cups, yes I said cups, of wine. Nothing like a lil sippy cup to make you feel regal. Who needs a souvenir beer, I will take some Cabernet in a sippy cup please!
Having already checked the seating chart in eager anticipation, I knew we had good seats. But it wasn’t until Leigh, the female usher, ushered us to our stage left seats that we knew how great our vantagepoint would be.

Wendy Williams comes out on stage and hits Philly with her standard, “How u doin?!?” signifying the show was about to begin. After about 10 minutes of hearing the white guys in front of us shuffle with excitement over the two HUGE blunts they managed to sneak in, the show began. No local opening act, no announcement about a trifling afterparty, just a presidential emblem projected onto the stage set of a replica Oval Office.

President Carter was seated at the desk. Shades and a General’s jacket, the back of which bore the same Presidential ensignia. From where we were seated you could see the spores on the olive branches.

President Carter, whose administration has come under fire since his inauguration managed to have nearly his whole cabinet present this particular evening. Boasting to the crowd that he was “uniting nations” his new level of diplomacy was nothing short of historic. After issuing the “drop that shit” command, his DJ, situated in the middle of the audience, spun the classic Dead Presidents. It would prove to be the soundtrack for an upstage center second platform entrance by Nas. Yes, I said Nas.

As the two stood side by side on stage for what seemed like hours, I was reminded of the times Michael Jackson stood silently on stage during Bucharest tour broadcast on HBO in early ’92.

“This is bigger than him, this is bigger than me. We are doing this for y’all”-Jay-Z.

Supporting cast included:

Jadakiss (whom the crowd did not immediately recognize)
Hometown favorites Freeway and Beanie Sigel (whose performance of 2001’s hits the crowd seemed only moderately appreciative of)
Jeezy who sounded like he neglected to put throat lozenges on his rider
T.I. (who was exceptional...ly short) but quite an energetic showman
Tierra Marie whose performance had the climax of an impotent 60year old man and the choreography of an Ashanti or Drew Carey dance number.

My personal highlight:

I found myself staring into the faces of the audience nearly as much as I watched the performances on stage. My ambivalence surrounding Carter’s adoption of the moniker “J-Hova” was complicated by the crowd’s chanting of it like the old folks scream praise songs at Sunday Service. Nigga what, Nigga who? one of my favorites, was difficult to stomach while seated behind a group of white boys who were reciting it like their own personal pledge of allegiance.

The most majestic moment of the evening was about mid concert when Jay-Z stood center stage, unaccompanied by music and broke into the nearly cult classic first verse of Biggie’s Juicy. Before he could get passed “It was all a dream...” the crowd took over.

He couldn’t have stopped them if he wanted to.

“...Way back when I had the red and black lumberjack...” it was then that we realized that he never wanted to. He had incarnated the spirit of Christopher Wallace and channeled it through each and every person in the arena. The crowd kept perfect time, perfect beat and even managed to speak in the fat mouthed diction of the deceased rapper. It was nothing less than beautiful...it was Hip-Hop—persevered and preserved.

Backstage:

Ever since I went backstage and met Lauryn Hill at the Smokin Grooves Tour, I have felt like I am supposed to go backstage at every concert I go to. The show is almost incomplete if I don’t get to walk passed some slacking security guards. I remember Lauryn, unattended to, struggling to learn the guitar as quickly as she could. I can recall how pleased she was when a humble little boy with braces came to her genuinely. I remember how tall Busta was and the cloud of ganja that surrounded him. I remember talking my best friend and myself into a Roots concert years later with the greatest of ease.

But this time was different. I had nothing. I didn’t know how we would get backstage, but we had to.

As the concert neared its end to the tune of “Encore”, Wonder Woman insisted we make our move towards the stage exit side of the arena. Convinced that there would be an encore, I wouldn’t budge. I was wrong and by the time we made it to the stage exit, the last performer, Diddy, was leaving the stage. We were caught in the swarm of screaming fans and even the artwork on my long sleeve memorial to B.I.G. wasn’t enough to identify us as the deserving escorts to the after party that we thought we should be.

If at first you don’t succeed...

As we rushed in the opposite direction of where the crowd was being herded, we worked our way down to the other side of the stage at ground level. It was there that we ran into Louis Gossett, III. This bald black event staffer (who I think took his job way too seriously) was easily duped. In fact his “gullibleness” had me feeling sort of bad, like talking back to an older relative who can’t hear you, y’mean? Anyway...

I whisper to Gabby, I mean Wonder Woman “you lost your cell phone”. Apparently that was enough for Ms. Who’s Line Is It Anyway, cause she goes into full-fledged method acting. “Oh my God, my T-Mobile 7109 Blackberry, that I just got, with all my phone numbers in it, that I need for work....”

“Well, perhaps you guys should go back up a few levels and check at the lost and found located right near the exit to the building” offers Gossett. Damn.

We act as though we are walking back up the incline but instead I make a beeline for the stage left backstage entrance equipped only with swagger. No neon backstage pass. Wonder Woman, donning an OLD school Yo! MTV Raps tee is three short legged steps behind me. First wave of security—passed. Second wave of breakdown team ripping the stage up—“How’s it going?” (Convinced that we were “somebodies”). Passed.

Now we are back here and don’t have a clue where to go. “What up, man?” to a focused Memphis Bleek as he walks by. That’s the best you got, George? Wonder Woman, wondering still looking for her phone.
We pivot away from L. Gossett, III who has now come backstage and would surely embarrass us if he saw us. Well, I pivot and Ms. Oblivious keeps walking.

We run into yet another brigade of event staff. All male. Preemptively, I ask if any of them have seen a phone, leaving WW to her tricks. I walk of to “casually” patronize the snack machine figuring that if she can work some magic, I can “just might sneak in...a couple words...”. In the snack machine’s reflection I see her booted feet walking up on me and behind her is Mr. Making the Band himself.

Singing. Bent. Three sheets to the wind. Baby Betty Ford. “Can I get an Encore...” Thought is was interesting that he’d be singing Jay-Z’s songs. Anyway, he walks out the exit towards his tour bus, flanked by security carrying silver briefcases.

I follow, with WW in hot pursuit.

to be continued...