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NEWS : STORIES
I was at a Lyricist Lounge show a few weeks ago at the Maritime Hall in San Francisco, and it was by far one of the best shows I've been to all year. Along with the headliners -- bohemian rappers Black Eyed Peas and influential hip-hop trio De La
It was a stunning display of talent, with the surprise appearances of underground favorite Ras Kass and pop success Wyclef Jean of the Fugees serving as cherries on top of the hip-hop sundae. And there was something else worth noting: When local rapper Top Ramen of Bay Area rap crew the Earthlings kicked off the event with a solid, freestyle rap routine, the hall was a little less than half full -- meaning that nearly 900 people showed up at 8 p.m. to get a taste of raps from new artists they had likely never heard before. When much-buzzed-about rapper Last Emperor took the stage an hour later to bust a few rhymes about famous hip-hoppers turning into superheroes, the Maritime Hall was packed to capacity. If you believe what some concert-promoters say, the above would seem like an impossibility. While name-brand hip-hop acts can draw a crowd, unsigned or little-known artists are often labeled box-office poison. The genre's reputation for encouraging violence at its live shows hasn't helped matters, either. As a result, live shows by unsigned or even moderately successful hip-hop acts outside of the New York/L.A. entertainment axis are rare. This means that if you're not a highly successful act such as Puff Daddy, Wyclef Jean or Busta Rhymes, your touring schedule is bound to be spotty and filled with less-than-ideal venues. And if you're unsigned, you'll be playing parties with your friends. Either way, the places you'll be playing won't exactly be hangouts for A&R (artist & repertoire) reps. In nearly any other genre (rock, jazz, country, blues), every city or major metropolitan area has a circuit of clubs for unsigned bands to play; a place for groups to hone their sound and learn what songs audiences react to and how. But for hip-hop, at the moment, that option is largely lacking. "They can't [do shows] because there's a stigma that rappers bring violence, and maybe sometimes it is true," professional-basketball star/rapper/T.W.Is.M. Records chief Shaquille O'Neal explained Friday. "I think that's why country-western people sell more albums -- because they can do shows." For up-and-coming rappers, despite the mainstream success of rap over the past 20 years, the path to success -- now more than ever -- lies with entrepreneurs such as O'Neal. In talking with and reading about such artist/label chiefs as Master P (No Limit Records), C-Murder (Tru Records), Ice Cube (Heavyweight Records), Jay-Z (Roc-A-Fella Records), Kurupt (ANTRA Records), Bushwick Bill (Lickle Geto Boys Dollars N Cents Entertainment), E-40 (Sick Wid' It Records) and Sean "Puffy" Combs (Bad Boy Entertainment), a common theme presents itself: They've started these labels to help bring up acts who might not otherwise be heard in the industry. The founders of the rotating-venue Lyricist Lounge showcase did the same in the early '90s -- giving shelter to nascent hip-hop when it was homeless. If you think about it, rap artists serving as label chiefs and bookers who nurture the talent of young acts is a great alternative to the stereotypically balding-with-a-ponytail A&R guy promising the world. By rewarding these artists/label heads with healthy sales for works of their own, we've told them that we like what they like and trust them to bring us more of the same. Up-and-coming artists, meanwhile, can benefit from a label staff with experience in the studio and on the road. Back at the Lyricist Lounge show, I watched as the Bay Area rappers passionately performed for the swelling crowd, many getting their sea legs as they sweat it out for their biggest-ever audience. At first, I was focusing on the discouraging thought that these up-and-comers who were so committed to their art might not be able to play for such a large crowd again. But as the show progressed and the better-known acts took to the stage, my attitude began to shift. Most people were concentrating on what was happening onstage, but I kept one eye out for the folks who opened the show. And what I saw gave me a shot of hope: there were Eminem and Ras Kass chilling by the backstage door, giving pointers and congrats to the opening acts. If, by chance, Eminem or Ras Kass follow the talent-nurturing route of those who came before them, the sea legs earned by the Bay Area rappers might just come in handy.
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