Back in the day, say the mid- to late ’80s, a couple of friends and I were on our way to a party. As we rode down Lake Shore Drive, with the radio blasting and the conversation animated, a voice still captured our attention.
“I ain’t no joke, I use to let the mike smoke! Now I slam it when I’m done and make sure it’s broke!”
It’s lyrics like these that introduced the mainstream to the new black male braggadocio, a sense of pride that was steely yet fragile. Eric B & Rakim, a deejay and emcee from the hard streets of New York, were the perfect pair and in perfect unison. The music–enigmatic, fist-pumping riffs served up by the reserved deejay Eric B–and lyrics–delivered blow by blow by none other than the surly Rakim, were something that shook the foundation called rap music with hard-hitting songs such as “Paid in Full,” “Microphone Fiend” and “Move the Crowd.” When the duo went their separate ways in 1993, the hip-hop world took it as hard as the mainstream took the breakup of Roseanne and Tom Arnold.
At the House of Blues on Sunday, Rakim, with a deejay in tow–proved that he’s still the master of the microphone. His charismatic, monotone voice still vibrated with defiance and still commanded attention. And though Rakim had been a duo act with Eric B scratching records in the background, as far as the microphone was concerned, he was a solo act.
Spewing bits from “The 18th Letter,” his first full album in five years, Rakim was charged and ready to rock the stage like he used to. His energy was flowing as he rolled off lyrics from his new project (“It’s Been a Long Time,” “Guess Who’s Back”) and classics (“I Ain’t No Joke,” “My Name’s The R”). And his freestyle was as fierce as ever. But this time, he brought along some company. Big mistake.
A word of advice: Lose the sidekicks. The two rappers that were fortunate to share the stage with a hip-hop legend forgot to be humble. Instead of acting as backup acts for the master lyricist, they tried to outdo him by hogging the stage and echoing all of his groundbreaking lines. When he “hoed,” they “heyed.” And they even unnecessarily tried to pump up the crowd with “Take your fist and pump it like this!” Their distracting, screeching voices finally resulted in Rakim raising his a few notches–which caused it to sound rawer and rawer.
But though they tried to steal his show with their mediocre rhymes, Rakim’s powerful presence could not be overshadowed.
