I am fairly certain that amongst the aging urban hipster set, I’m the only journalist willing to stand up and tell you that I was a major proponent of the rap/rock fusion era. I’ll also be that guy who will stand up and tell you that I love the rap/EDM fusion thing possibly even more. I’ll tell you that I loved both of those movements because they felt honest. Fred Durst is a redneck from Jacksonville, Florida. Having been to Jacksonville, Florida, Limp Bizkit at their rawest and emotive best weren’t going to get much deeper than “No Sex,” or much harder than “Nookie,” and “All N 2 Gether Now” and “Rollin'” in being able to rap with DMX and Method Man were definitely going to be the pinnacle of their expression. I love the Black Eyed Peas these days because Will I. Am has great taste in EDM producers, and is at least smart enough to find the talents who can best express his creative vision. There is a clear and honest attempt at having a unique expression to themselves, amplified by great production that makes those eras personal favorites. All of that being said, though clearly culled straight from central casting of my particular likes of the last 20 years, I cannot cosign South African hip hop and dance duo Die Antwoord. After watching them perform at the 9:30 Club last night, I find them silly mindless pop in the worst way, so painfully derivative of everything that in getting wrapped up in their artistic presence and well crafted dance productions, you forget to note that yes, they are charismatic emperors, but they also are wearing no clothes.
Let’s not split hairs here. We give Die Antwoord a pass in America because they’re foreign. It’s what we do. If it looks funny and speaks with an accent, our collective nationwide ADD gets sucked in, and for a year we buy tickets and t-shirts, and in five years laugh at how appallingly stupid we all were. Yo-Landi Vi$$er is a pigment deficient meld of Lena, the female lead singer of Aqua of “Barbie Girl” fame and Nicki Minaj. She was small, spritely and oddly attractive, the same kind of hot wrapped in a layer of bad girl filth encapsulated in Brittany Murphy as Eminem’s love interest in 8 Mile. Do I want to hear her on hooks? Sure. I love “Barbie Girl.” Fun track. Do I want to hear her kick flows? Yes. I love Nicki Minaj. But for 90 minutes last night, I felt like her cuteness was forced, part of the bizarre hipster meme that Die Antwoord tends to feel is being foisted upon the audience. Rapper Ninja kicks flows with a cadence that variates between Tupac’s bravado and the cute pop, on beat wordplay of rap veterans like Doug E. Fresh and Slick Rick. Would I have paid money to see Rick the Ruler, “The World’s Greatest Entertainer” and the legendary Mr. Shakur on stage together? Absolutely. Would I pay to see those three gentlemen in the person of a tattooed Afrikaaner hipster? No. Again, the whole act feels forced, and while tracks like “Evil Boy” and “Enter the Ninja” are certifiable one hit wonders, there’s not much else past that to hold my interest.
The highlight of the show wasn’t the live performances, but rather the spoken word interludes between tracks where you truly got to see the people behind the blustery bravado of their triumphant and awkward battle cries. After screaming at the top of his lungs in a manner consistent with 2 Pac in his Strictly 4 My Niggaz phase that “Only God can judge me!,” Ninja then proceeded to teach the crowd filthy insults of his South African “zef” hipster culture, but refused to say “pussy” when translating the word for “your mother’s private parts” in Afrikaaner. This screams the type of “poser” depths that only Shifty Shellshock at the heights of Crazy Town’s hit success with 2001’s “Butterfly” could approach. Ninja seems to be a highly charismatic and intelligent young man. He fronts a group where he approaches the stage in a black hooded cloak that appears to be straight out of the video shoot for Wu-Tang Clan’s “Da Mystery of Chessboxin’.” However, his appropriation of hip hop culture to swaddle himself in the veneer of cool is so boring and expected that it sucks all of the positive and fun vitriolic force out of his words and instead makes them comedic noise, a college art project on hipsters jacking hip hop instead of the great music meant to inform an era of pop that given the near sellout crowd that it deserves to be.
Opener Rye Rye saved the night as she tends to do. Her blend of traditional dancing found in Baltimore city clubs and productions that are eminently accessible and unlike much of anything else make her a fantastic performer as a concept. Where she takes things to the next level is in having a cheery demeanor and ever present smile in performing that enlivens a room. She has a sound and style that works in any era, and as a devotee of Baltimore club music, any time I can hear DJ Sega’s Philly club remix of Miley Cyrus’ “Party in the USA” with Porkchop’s KW Griff produced banger “Bring in the Cats” blended within, after Blaqstarr’s great productions of “Bang” and “Shake It to the Ground,” and Chicago’s Million $ Mano’s “Witch Doctor,” I’m set. Rye Rye’s performance is a gateway into party culture that is open, friendly and a fantastic time. Between her and her terrific background dancers, it’s a non stop good vibe throughout that on this particular evening saved the entire night.
Rye Rye engaged my feet, Die Antwoord engaged my senses. On a dance music level, the entire night engaged my mind, but when Ninja and Yo-Landi opened their mouths, it sounded like something I heard before and liked for three or four minutes and nothing more. Pop is ultimately expected to be disposable. However, it’s in striving to make it so accessible that it achieves memorable dare say legendary status that the good become great. Rye Rye, moving along that path to greatness quite well. Headliners Die Antwoord? Good, but along the road to great, dead on arrival. but wow. In five years, we’re definitely going to remember how stupid we were, and enjoy it for the disposable garbage it was.
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