Album of the
week:
Rah Digga, Dirty Harriet (WEA/Elektra)
Song of the
week: "Confrontation," by Mary J. Blige
These speak for
themselves.
Ten years ago, hip-hop shows were so rare in Portland,
you'd almost believe that the music didn't exist. Since
mainstream radio wasn't at all into providing information
about the culture, heads missed artists visiting the city
if they took their ear away from the street for even a split
second. When a tour did come, as A Tribe Called Quest did
in '91, the affair would be so intimate that you could easily
get to MCs and give 'em a big "Whassup."
Thankfully, things have changed for the better. Portland
has become a regular stop on the hip-hop circuit; hardly
a week goes by without a concert. No doubt, hip-hop's stronger
presence in the city pleases veteran heads. Those curious
about the culture have more opportunities for a first-time
experience. It's exciting to see folks filling clubs to
near capacity in the middle of the week, as they did for
Direct Productions' Elements show featuring Rahzel at the
end of March.
Still, there are lingering reminders that Portland has
a long way to go. Sometimes these can be funny. Other times,
they're downright disturbing.
Humor can be found in people's misunderstanding of hip-hop's
traditions--especially when a DJ headlines a bill. Because
turntablists are popular right now, crowds have a tendency
to stand around and watch hot performers go from crate to
table to needle, instead of letting the beats take over
their bodies. A few Fridays ago, the legendary Philly DJ
Cash Money kept it crunk in the 1201, spinning old jams
like "Rock the Bells." Cash Money struck the primal chord,
and cats were grooving hard--but still they stood transfixed
in front of the turntables. It's nice to see the music get
respect, but these folks clearly don't grasp that a DJ's
goal is to make people dance, not gawk.
While such innocent misunderstandings are funny, there
are other instances that point to more troubling gaps. In
fact, they can be dangerous.
Last month, the Trail Blazers' Jermaine O'Neal hosted a
party that had plenty of food, cheap drinks and beautiful
people. Kool DJ Mello Cee held couples on the dance floor
for multiple dances before they went off in search of either
a place to talk privately or another partner. Damon Stoudamire,
Bonzi Wells, Stacy Augmon and Rasheed Wallace added some
celebrity flair to the event, fuelling a string of shoutouts
from E-Bro of Jammin' 95.5.
Despite all these necessary ingredients for a good time,
major conflict marred the party--a big contingent of police
officers and OLCC monitors was on the scene. Given the recent
Diallo verdict and police officers' habit of jacking up
young black males, many of the brothers steered clear. The
officers always lurked on the periphery, looking to send
home anyone who appeared to be tipsy.
Fortunately, as is almost always the case, the party was
peaceful. There wasn't even a hint of a fight, ensuring
that the police officers' weapons stayed in their holsters.
Still, it's curious that hip-hop events always seem to call
for a security presence far beyond that seen at other affairs.
I guess the cops were there just in case, because everyone
who listens to hip-hop is a potential criminal, right?
Come on, now. Don't believe the hype.
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Willamette Week | originally
published April 19,
2000
|
