As I waded through the sea of hardcores,
try hard Latinos, sweaty male teenagers who
must have snuck in through the back door and
all the rest of them I was wondering if this
gig was going to be all I’d worked it
up to be. Luckily it was and it was definitely
one of the hip-hop events of 2003.
As I walked into the smoky and already crowded
metro the sounds of Snoop & Dre’s
Gin and Juice met my ears, I had decided to
get there as early as possible so I didn’t
miss a thing, unfortunately so had the rest
of Melbourne. After literally kicking my way
towards the bar I grabbed a sweet refreshing
Stella and took straight to the dance floor.
I was informed I was listening to the reckless
deejays, born and bred in the USA.
I would say they were good and I would also
say they sucked, it just depended which parts
of the set you were listening to. They dropped
a sick Run DMC medley, mixed into the Message
by Grandmaster Flash himself that seemed to
fly over the hardcore bitch hating gangster’s
heads that were in the crowd. Yet things like
Eminem, Dre and Ice Cube went down a treat.
It was hot, we were out of beer and the crowd
was building. Luckily the dj exited the stage
and it was time for a quality show of Aussie
hip hop.
I was mostly looking forward to the Hilltop
Hoods who have been stuck in my CD player, Minidisk
and turntables since the Calling came out and
fuck did they not disappoint me. These guys
are some of the wittiest, tightest and most
lyrically creative Australian hip hops artists
around and they were in top form from start
to finish. My only problem with their set was
that it ended. After a string of technical problems,
lets face it, it’s not a gig in Melbourne
these days with out one, Staen 1 took to the
decks without a cross fader. The irony of an
Australian DMC champ using turntables without
a fader fucken astounds me but being the true
professionals they are the show went on. Dj
Debris, to quote Pressure ‘has left the
fucken country and he’s not coming back’
so at the last minute Staen 1 stepped up to
the decks to tour, I give him all the respect
I can for a deejay that was thrown into a group
he hadn’t worked with and forced to rock
a show with a piece of shit mixer with no fader.
Pity the dense, leather jacket, fully schik
wearing contingent present couldn’t have
been a bit more compassionate, instead kicking,
screaming and booing the guys till they were
literally forced onto stage without the equipment
they deserved. After a trance CD interlude (?
What the fuck) they chucked on the Calling record
and let that play. The crowd started going off
until they realised there was no MC’s
on stage and there was still heaps of people
screwing round with the decks so it was back
to a rowdy, sweaty crowd getting more impatient
by the minute. Then the unmistakeable voice
of Suffa met the microphone and it was on for
young and old. Much to my delight the boys took
off with Dumb Enough? a combination of quality
bass, entertaining lyrics and a whole bunch
of horns. I didn’t give two fucks what
everyone else was doing at this stage, I was
way too busy screaming, jumping and drinking.
They followed with a remixed rendition of the
calling, a different beat yet same lyrics which
to try and be intellectual I would describe
as a ‘hip hop hymn’, a kind of homage
to the music where ‘you’ve got to
pray to hip hop almighty’.
Again I couldn’t give a shit what anyone
else thought, it went down a treat with me.
Immortal MC’s was next, a track from their
last album ‘left foot, right foot’.
This took the crowd angriness factor up two
or three notches which was great, everyone was
starting to get much more into the festivities.
Me and my mates were grinning like four year
old kids in a toy shop. But to top it all off
they dropped Nosebleed Section, if you don’t
know this track you suck and you should go to
obese and buy their album. It is the hip hop
track of the year. Melody, rhythymn, bounce,
funk and all the rest, and just like the track
suggested everyone ripped off their tops and
jumped around in the front row. Just when I
thought it wouldn’t get any better, they
kept going. Left Foot Right Foot kept the crowd
jumping, whilst illusionary lines calmed them
down a little. By then I assumed the ride would
be over, yet little did I know what we were
instore for. I heard the first bar of a piano
riff and a little hint of ‘ba ba ba ba
ba’, I think this is officially when I
lost my voice and the plot. The music disappeared
yet Suffa kept going. He was singing the Sentinal
and I was singing his praises. This accapella
rendition of one of their most popular tracks
was definitely the highlight of the night for
me, and it only got better. Cypress Hill were
on their way.
After a not so quick trip to the bar I realised
just how many deadest wankers were into hip
hop and tried to get back to my not so fuckwit
mates at the front of the stage. Luckily I was
just in time before the beat to Ain’t
going out like that began to assault my eardrums.
If there is one word to describe Cypress’s
performance it was bounce, the performers, the
crowd and all the elitists watching from the
sidelines were jumping out of their skins. It
was one of the best party vibes I’ve seen
all year. Their set was a bit of a beer infused
blur yet I after a hard few hours of thinking
I believe this to be the chain of events. They
sang that song that goes ‘la la lah la
la lah lah la’ which obviously the name
escapes me. Lick a shot a shot was next followed
by cock the hammer. Their performances of each
track were relatively similar, intense, fun
and music to jump to. It was wicked to see them
play all their old shit – mostly tracks
of Black Sunday (which was the first hip hop
album I ever bought) and only a little bit of
new shit. They informed us they had just completed
their seventh studio album. Next up was a little
taste of Espanol delivered followed by a blunt
the size of a decent . The beat to ‘I
want to get high’ started blaring and
the crowd lost it, the smell of weed consumed
the air as security ran round left right and
centre trying to get people to put it out. Bit
difficult boys when the main act is smoking
about a pound in one joint in front of a good
thousand people. At this point they made reference
to their ten year absense, stated that the weed
had got ten times better in the meantime and
dedicated ‘Hits from the bong’ to
all the ‘mother fuckers that grow this
icky sticky smelly green shit’. At this
time a giant buddha covered in mull leaves was
inflating behind the stage. Next up was green
thumb, then an amazing display of live drumming,
a tune called ‘bang out’ from their
latest album and a little bit of shit goes down.
Sorry I cannot be more specific, I remember
clearly what a glass of stella looks like but
the details of the gig are becoming more and
more sketchy. But then that unforgettable bass
to match ‘insane in the brain’ geared
up and the crowd went stupid! If anyone wasn’t
jumping they were blind and deaf or just plain
dumb. Party track of the century. Then there
was riot starter which instigated a lot of screaming
and general anger in the crowd, then there was
me getting crushed by a bunch of fat sweaty
assholes then there was me getting the fuck
out of the front row. After that is a little
fuzzy round the edges yet I when they dropped
Rap Superstar the crowd went nuts once again,
then it was all over. There wasn’t much
to the Cypress Hill set, it was no journey,
it was not some intellectual crock of bullshit,
it was simple, it was entertaining and it was
fun. That’s all it was and all it needed
to be. It topped off a wicked night and was
the perfect excuse to jump around like a maniac
and scream until I had no voice. As some MC
I met on the weekend would say that shit was
‘gangsta’. Top night, top music
and top beer as always.
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