Last night, I took the opportunity to support a co-worker (I won't tell you which one because then you can break my blogger "code") and dove headlong into DC's underground hip-hop scene. I don't know how far talent gets you in this world, but Redhead (who loses points for calling me "sir" after the show--or should he gain points? hm...), Mathpanda, the Read a Book brutha (who is actually quite brilliant), and Arda Mus and Metaphysical have a bunch of it. But before the show, something really disturbed me. Here, this is how I explained it to Mrs. Unknown when I got back:
"I know people have been griping that hip-hop is dead and that it's stagnant and nothing new and/or worthwhile is going on. I've been defending them and all, chalking it up to aging and sour grapes. But ... well ... I don't know ...
"I mean, I remember back in '94, when I used to go to joints like this back in Atlanta [Author's Note: Yes, Willow weep for me, I used to run the streets fifteen friggin' years ago. Argh]. We used to hear all the hottest shit of the day, Wu-Tang, Black Moon, Gang Starr, Nas..."
"Can I guess what you're going to say?" Mrs. Unknown asked.
"Sure, babe."
"That's what you were listening to tonight?"
"Exactly."
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