A while back, I went to see Organized Konfusion in New Hampshire with my friend Tony. My BLACK friend Tony. He's one of the guys I refer to when I try to convince people it's okay when I make off-color witticisms ON color. Of course, he'd disavow me in a split second. So don't tell anyone I use him as a reference. A rerun of ROOTS puts me on thin ice as it is.
To put a timeline on it for the hip-hop heads, it was right after they released STRESS: EXTINCTION AGENDA. Four mics in The Source, if I remember correctly. I bought the CD at midnight at Tower Records on Mass Ave in Boston and loved it like fat people love parking spaces close to the door. When Tony told me they were on a bill with ARTIFACTS, COMMON SENSE, and THE BEATNUTS, no price was too high. Not even fifteen bucks (though that was a quarter of my gross national product at the time).
I went so quickly, I forgot to inform my girl Sonya, a friendly but testy half Jamaican. She killed the triple A battery in my pager (only doctors know what a pager is). I don't remember how much change I plugged into the payphone (a wha...?) to assuage her suspicions, but as soon as she was convinced I wasn't picking up whores, I settled in to enjoy the show.
You can let people tell you what they want about “not seeing color”, but it's bullshit. If the demographic needle tacks too deep into one wedge of the color wheel, the other spokes notice (I didn't misspell spooks or spicks. I was making a wheel analogy). Take it from a guy who dated a Colombian. I sat in a room full of expired passports more than once. Shouts out to SABADO GIGANTE. This time, it was like a piece of black construction paper with two drops of WITE OUT. One would be me. The other was one of the bartenders.
Artifacts opened the night, performing “Wrong Side of the Tracks” amongst others. Pretty good stuff. Check out TAME ONE. He was half of the duo and ,though I'm sure El Da Sensei is doing fine, TAME is the shit. Still.
And then Common came on stage...
I only knew him from “Breaker 1-9” and “I Used to Love Her”. The latter was on heavy rotation. A clever metaphor and the first talk of Common (formerly of Common Sense fame) being a conscious rapper. Put in the same stable as Tribe Called Quest and De La Soul. I didn't see the comparison.
He did a song. I don't remember which. Then he started talking to the crowd:
“I got a hotel room here and needed a couple extra towels, so I went downstairs. When I got to the lobby, there were two WHITE PEOPLE (you see this coming?) watching the OJ trial on COURT TV. They didn't know I was there. One turned to the other and said:
'They should just kill that nigger.'
YOU KNOW I WANTED TO FUCK 'EM UP, RIGHT!?! But I didn't... You know why? 'Cause white people...they're just LIKE that...”
You could've heard a pin drop. The club was filled to capacity and they all turned to look at me. Not US. ME. The bartender saw it coming and fucking bounced. So much for sticking together. I stood as an unwilling representative of all things cracker. Shit was tense.
But Organized Konfusion hadn't gone on yet, Tony was elsewhere, and I wasn't running. Spending the rest of the show with hateful eyes on me, I watched Phaorohe Monche ignore the first stage call because he was too busy sucking down Heinekens at the bar, women clinging to his winter coat (and ski goggles) which he was still wearing. He stumbled onto the stage and performed perfectly, not missing a syllable, even as he laid on his back, rhyming while kicking his feet in the air like an overturned turtle.
The Beatnuts headlined, and though I specifically remember the crowd missing a cue (something about 'eating' your mother), they had a spectacular set. Ahhh...memories.
But I'm getting off track. I don't care what the President says. Common's a jackass. TAKE THAT!
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