Wu-Tang Concert

I went to the Wu-Tang Clan concert on Sunday night. My downstairs neighbor knows I’m a fan, but at $50 a ticket it was a hard choice to make. At the conclusion of the evening I felt that I had spent the money less for the performance (which I moderately enjoyed) than for the sociological experience.

I understand why white suburban youths are drawn to hip-hop. Symbolically it represents the shadow side of the secure, comfortable existence that most privileged kids experience. The image of hip-hop appeals to the tendency of youths to rebel against their familial structure in an attempt to find a personalized, authentic identity. Add the testosterone driven impulses of males under 30, and the marriage is complete. I know all these things, yet as I looked around and listened to the conversations of private school kids from Bethesda, I felt a little out of place. Considering that Wu-Tang isn’t commerical hip-hop, I was expecting a crowd comprised more of people like me, who come from a plebian background. Or people who were at least enrolled in elementary school when Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) dropped in 1993, and “cash ruled everything around me.” At very least, I expected to see more than ten black people.

Despite the absurdity, I see the crowd diversity as a good thing, and I’m pleased that younger people appreciate the beats and rhymes that made Wu-Tang famous. However, a nagging discomfort stayed with me throughout the show and later than night as I laid in bed. I’ve learned long ago that you should prepare to be annoyed at some point during a hip-hop concert, but maybe I’ve hit my limit. The Clan put on a pretty good show, but the opening act was so awful that it embued the rest of the evening. They typified everything about hip-hop that’s played out: ridiculous egocentricity, the elevation of materialism, misogyny, homophobia, tribal posturing, and the inevitable threats of violence against…well, who cares. The clan again brought them onto the stage after the show to freestyle more nonsense. It soured me on the entire experience.

During the show, the clan constantly shouted out to “their niggas,” which I found disturbing since I saw only one black person within 20 feet of me. Maybe they were talking to the gaggle of midget white girls standing next to me. The Clan also made consistent claims of affection for the audience of long-time fans and how they have stayed with them and supported them for the last 20 years. Touching, but again awkward.

Unlike most Hip-Hop “artists,” Wu-Tang has always been authentic, unconventional, complex, and inventive. Also, I worship the RZA. They put on a good show that covered all the hits and included a nice tribute to the ODB (old dirty bastard), but I couldn’t shake the tone set early in the show. At this point in my life, I want to hear the beat, but I don’t want to see worthless posing or hear the same ignorant bullshit that isn't transcendant, relevant, or worth bouncing to.

Maybe I’m just too old.

Addendum:

I listened to the great new Galactic album From the Corner to the Block, which features dirty south rappers on every track. I'm not too old, it seems. I just need to work harder to find good hip-hop.