“Fifty years down the line, you can start this
‘Cause we’ll be the Old School artists
And even in that time, I’ll say a rhyme
A brand-new style, ruthless and wild
Runnin’ around spendin’ money, havin’ fun
’cause even then, I’m still number one.”
– From I’m “Still #1” by Boogie Down Productions and KRS-One
I went to three “hip hop turns fifty” festivals and concerts in New York City this past week and immersed myself in the music, culture and community that is hip hop. They reminded me — as has this past week of global celebrations in general — just how entrenched hip hop has become in global culture and how it is linked to the zeitgeist of the past five decades.
This past weekend marked the 50th anniversary of the day DJ Kool Herc started the music (r)evolution known as hip hop. The magic happened at a party in a Bronx apartment building rec room in 1973, a back-to-school jam thrown by Herc and his sister Cindy. That night Herc spun magic on two turntables he used to mix and blend tracks that moved the crowd. They say he was his own hype man calling out free style rhymes to motivate the crowd, a role that would become the MC who moves the crowd. Herc didn’t know it, but he had launched what would become a global music phenomenon and culture loved by millions, including me.
My love affair with hip hop began a few years after Herc hit the 1s and 2s on that hot Bronx night. The summer I turned 13, I sneaked into underground clubs and parties with my slightly older brother. MCs hyped the crowd with rhymes; they intoned in syncopated rhythm over the beats DJs mixed on turntables. It was 1977, four years after DJ Kool Herc’s party and two years before Rappers Delight hit the radio waves and ran up the charts “with a bullet.”
By the mid-’80s, the genre DJ Kool Herc started, and the music that Black youth crafted to tell their stories of tragedy and triumph, was everywhere, and it seemed like everyone was listening and imitating. Most said it wouldn’t last, that it was a passing fad, but they were wrong, the genre exploded. And, at the three shows I hit, kept exploding.
Show #1: Rock the Bells
I and four of my besties from New Haven joined 13,000 or so hip hop heads who swarmed Forest Hills Stadium in Queens for The Rock the Bells Festival put on by LL Cool J’s Rock the Bells brand and The Bowery Presents on Aug. 5. I arrived at the nine-hour event sponsored by Procter & Gamble and Walmart a little late and joined the diverse and eclectic crowd streaming into the venue so I could find my friends on what turned out to be a scorcher of a day.
The day included more than just music. There was a double Dutch exhibition, a food court (that featured 11 food vendors discovered via a James Beard + Rock the Bells Festival collaborative competition), a cocktails area with specialty drinks, a marketplace with a store selling Rock the Bells and artists’ gear, photo booths, a makers space where you could create your own Tshirt designs, as well as areas where you could engage and learn about the history and impact of hip hop and its associated culture. Graffiti art and vibrant Rock the Bells logos peppered the stage and venue, another hallmark of hip hop culture.
The aromas of the food court wafted in the air as people milled about laughing and eating. Beats reverberated from giant speakers as I found my seat a little mesmerized by the fits and styles surrounding me. I mean people broke out their Addidas – a staple in any hip hop wardrobe – their bamboo hoops (I wore mine), dookie ropes, track suits, braids, and fresh cuts to celebrate this moment, be in this moment.
The music started with DJs spinning and The Cold Crush Brothers, who I missed along with Rakim. The folks sitting next to me told me that Salt-N-Pepa showed why and how they remain staples on hip hop playlists. They also proved that the producers meant business about set times: Their mics got cut because they went long.
Next up: the Native Tongues crew with Brand Nubian and The Jungle Brothers representing their style of conscious, uplifting rap. Their infectious energy and positive lyrics resonated with me then and now, and their stage presence has not diminished over the years.
Big Daddy Kane almost suffered the same fate as Salt-N-Peppa but kept on going even after his mic was cut. They turned it back on and he finished his set a la James Brown sinking to the floor as his hype man covered him with a Louis Vuitton cape that matched his fit and fedora. The crowd went wild as he pimp-walked off the stage. He got the job done.
What’s a celebration of 50 years of hip hop without the OGs? We won’t know because the old heads graced the stage with flair and aplomb. Along with Kane, Slick Rick the Ruler showed up and out with his phat gold chains and sang his classics that everyone knew all the words to.
The highlights of the day for me were sets by Queen Latifah (also a part of the Native Tongues), Method Man and Redman, and Ludacris, in that order.
Latifah, backed by a full band, wore a black and white sequined baseball jersey emblazoned with QL, a pair of lace-up knee-high boots, sporting a 30-inch pony, she brought her whole crew with her to set it off. She showed how she not only made hits for herself but helped elevate other talent. Her classic women power hit “Ladies First” was another crowd pleaser. Moni Love blasted the mic on her verses. Unfortunately, when MC Lyte (whose full set I missed) came out to spit hers, the mic didn’t work — the show did hit a few tech snags along the way. Remy Ma, wearing a bright green crop top and matching stretch pants, gave the crowd a taste of fire as did Rapsody. Before she left the stage, Latifah brought out Big Boi from Outkast, another group in her circle, and Naughty by Nature. Both hit it hard, moving the audience to get up and party. Naughty by Nature mentioned that only The Queen could get them on stage again; that’s the power of Latifah.
Method Man and Redman had too much fun, and their showmanship shined. I don’t recall them doing choreography, but they had moves on stage that day and gave serious energy in their knee length shorts (Red in Jean cutoffs and Meth in a blue and white Louis Vouitton set) and white sneaks. The energy oozed off the stage and got the people on their feet.
This was my first Ludacris show, and my skills sneaking into clubs as a teen came in handy and allowed me to make it to the floor and closer to the stage. Luda’s Southern drawl and lyrical storytelling took us on a journey into his musical prowess, and the party was on.
The other acts, superstars who like many performing achieved cross over appeal, brought the night to its crescendo. Run DMC, The Kings of Rap, came onstage, and you would never have thought more than 30 years have passed since they first gave us songs like “My Addidas” and “Tricky,” which they performed in their signature Adidas track suits. They too almost had their mics cut but, Run basically said, “Not today,” and they kept it going and the crowd was with him. LL Cool J closed the show backed by The Roots. I caught his first few songs (my friends wanted to leave early to beat the crowd) and trust me, LL Cool J is still bad as hell. His ability to bend words and spit rhymes remains jawdroppingly amazing. He bounced around the stage in a fire red hat and matching red track suit, one leg rolled up, as if he could go all night. The Roots, as always, brought the beat that elevated LL’s hits. Quest Love on the drums was amazing, and when Method Man, Red Man and a few others jumped on stage to do their bars for one of my fave cuts, 4,3,2,1…the crowd once again lost it and heads bobbed to the beat.
As I walked out of the stadium to grab some food with my girls, we talked about how Rock the Bells was a masterclass in the art of hip hop and performance. These musicians started as youngsters who heard over and over that their genre would fizzle out in a few years. They were labeled as thugs and bad boys. Their communities were still searching for liberation, and they thrived. They used the genre to tell stories that resonated with a global community; they started a culture that embraced Blackness and a dialog that questioned the larger society. The Rock the Bells celebration showed how hip hop infiltrated all aspects of our lives, from the clothes we wear to the food we consume. It also highlighted that while the genre started in the streets of the Bronx with black kids, its proliferation has captured the hearts and minds of the world.
This was the pre-game. The real header, for me, was show #2, on the date of Kool Herc and Cyndi’s back to school jam in 1973.
Show 2: Hip Hop 50
I got off the train in the Bronx where it all began on Aug. 11 and followed the music to the gates of Yankee Stadium. Vendors selling hot dogs and cold brews lined the sidewalks, and scalpers hawked tickets to the ticketless. The lines snaked down the block; a few wrapped around corners. This show was going to be epic if we ever got into the stadium. I stood in line for almost an hour and a half before reaching the gate to show my ticket and get my wristband. As it turned out, I snagged a floor seat. I grabbed a beer and headed to my seat. which was a bit like running the gauntlet but so worth it.
The first acts came on as I was in line trying to get into the stadium, but I caught the end of Lil’ Kim’s set. Her thigh-high red boots popped and set off her red, white, blue, and blue jean shorts and cropped jacket embellished with diamantes. Kim clearly came to slay the stage, and her performance took me back to college parties when Biggie and Kim’s music was in heavy rotation. She was deft with her lyrics and, while not the best dancer, worked the stage and crowd.
The dirty South showed up again but this time with T.I. and Lil Wayne, who was a pleasant surprise. T.I. was good but Lil’ Wayne was great. His stage presence, his delivery, his engagement with the crowd were masterful.
Before Wayne hit the stage, though, a Harlem favorite, Cam’ron, blessed the crowd with his tried-and-true party starters and gave a big shout out to his Dipset crew. His flow is still phenomenal, and his lyrics catchy and memorable, so much so that the audience sang along to almost all of them and would have even without the screens. This show featured close caption screens that flashed the lyrics to every track so you could sing along even if you didn’t know all the words, which was cool but not necessary for this crowd.
After Cam’ron, one of my all-time favorite rap collectives took the mic: WuTang. Method Man, Inspectah Deck, and Ghostface Killa did hip hop proud, and the packed stadium lost it. Method Man donned a 44 Yankees jersey in honor of Jackie Robinson, while Ghostface wore a snazzy red and white track suit and Inspector sported a black graphic Tshirt and green jeans. Their lyrical mastery shined as did their ability to play off one another and elevate energy on stage and into the crowd.
The westside showed up with Ice Cube, Snoop Dogg, and Too Short. Ice Cube served hard-core old-school rap from his early days with Da Lench Mob and on his own. He wore a black shirt and pants with “gangsta” sewn on a pocket and the westside hand sign imprinted on the back along with a black baseball cap and bandana. He and one of his Lench Mob crew belted out tunes and owned the stage, at times letting the crowd take the lead and carry the tune.
Snoop shared the stage with several rappers. One was Too Short, who blew the whistle as only this rapper from Oakland can. The OGs once again turned it up withrappers Slick Rick and Doug E. Fresh. Slick, draped in his signature gold chains, joined Doug E. Fresh, who wore a blue track suit and shades, for their classic La Di Da Di, Doug E. beat boxed for almost four minutes straight at one point, demonstrating his skills. Snoop’s set included a Wiz Khalifa moment where the two chopped it up over a few songs including the crowd favorite “Young Wild and Free.” One of the fieriest and slamming performances of the night came from Scar Lip, a young female rapper from New York who rocked the mic with her lyricism and flow and whose command of the stage was like that of Lil Kim or Remy Ma. She went hard with her ode to NYC, “This is New York.”
Thirty-six+ performers showed up and out at this show. Three who received a warm ovation and welcome were Remy Ma, Ashanti, and Lauryn Hill. Fat Joe, who is not all that fat anymore, brought out Ashanti to sing their song “What’s Love Got to Do with It?” Joe’s other guests included Remy Ma, who spit bars like she was 18 again and hungry for a break, showing why she is one of the queens of rap. Snoop also gave the stage to KRS-One; “The Teacha” who was woke before woke was a thing. KRS and Boogie Down Productions sing one of my all-time fave rap dis tracks, “The Bridge is Over,” about the origins of hip hop and which borough birthed it. He gave it his all and the crowd roared.
Lauryn Hill appeared with Nas to sing their duets and then Hill, in a hot pink, ruffled tulle dress, sang a full set, which was an unexpected boon for the crowd. They lost it when she came onstage and when she sang “Killing Me Softly.” You could barely hear her because the crowd took over. I’ve seen Hill five times, and this was one of herbest performances. Nas is another of my favorite rappers, and he, in his camo fit, also shut it down. Almost. It was 1 a.m. when Run DMC closed the show with what was reportedly their last performance ever. I think the performance at Rock the Bells was a little better than this one, maybe because it was so late, and folks were leaving. They still gave it their all.
This show was different from Rock the Bells in a few ways. For me, it highlighted the evolution of hip hop. It took us from its roots with OGs like Slick Rick and Doug E. Fresh to its future with talents like Wiz Khalifa and Scar Lip. This concert showed the diversity and differences in the genre in terms of style of rap and approach to content — the difference between, say, Lil Wayne’s and Nas’ delivery and what they sing about. The show gave insight into geography and how it influences the music — like how T.I. talks about trappin’ and KRS-One brings history and life lessons. Rappers are talking about things that impact them in their communities and while there are some universal themes, each region, state, city, neighborhood grapples with and approaches them differently. That shows up in the music, as Hip Hop 50 demonstrated.
And then there was 5x5, a hip hop moment I didn’t know I needed … at show #3.
Show 3: 5x5 Harlem
I wrapped up the week on Aug. 13 at 5x5 in Harlem, one of a series of free shows that took place in each of the five boroughs. Harlem hosted the final show on Sunday on 125th Street near the iconic Apollo Theater. While heading to meet my cousin for dinner, I overheard some people talking about these free shows. The folks I’d ear-hustled from said the event on Sedgwick Avenue in the Bronx, the same street where DJ Kool Herc and Cyndi threw the legendary party, had been epic, so I Googled it.
My cousin and I finished early, and I decided to check out the 5x5 in Harlem. I walked the few blocks from the restaurant on 120th Street and arrived just in time to catch The Jungle Brothers’ last song. The crowd was thick, people dancing and chilling in chairs. Folks hawked empanadas, prerolls, and water with the music, the beat pounding in my chest. I snaked my way to the front of the crowd again but this time slowly, stopping in pockets to dance or chat with other friendly partygoers, neighborhood denizens who, like me, grew up on hip hop and loved it.
I’m not sure who the DJ was but he owned the turntables and brought out break dancers who spun around, kicked, and contorted their bodies to the music effortlessly, like ballerinas in sneakers.
I was there for KRS-One, the headliner for the evening. I’d seen him just the other day at Hip Hop 50, but he sang only “The Bridge is Over” at that show. Here he performed a full set. It was fire. He started with a freestyle about the day, the celebration and why hip hop ruled. He then flipped into a few BDP songs like “Stop the Violence” and “I’m Still #1” along with, my fave, “The Bridge is Over.” KRS is also known as “The Teacha” because he drops knowledge in his songs and writings. At 5x5 he talked about hip hop and culture vultures who use the genre for their own gain but don’t give back and support the community. He warned folks to be mindful of where and how they spend their hard-earned cash. He also spit the lyrics to “I’m Still #1,” a song about the longevity of hip hop released in 1988, 15 years after Kool Herc’s party. The irony was not lost on the crowd. A lyric in the song goes, “Fifty years down the line, you can start this /‘cause we’ll be the Old School artists / And even in that time, I’ll say a rhyme / A brand-new style /ruthless and wild / Runnin’ around spendin’ money / havin’ fun ’cause even then /I’m still number one.” While it’s only 35 years since the release of this song, it is 50 years since the birth of hip hop, which is still number one for millions of hip hop heads. KRS-One is still making rhymes and for many is one of the G.O.A.T.S. of the genre, and still #1. When he sang it, the crowd responded with shouts claps and whistles.
DJ Red Alert played me out. I once again had to leave a little early to catch my train. As I danced my way through the crowd and to the station realized that this week, I had fallen in love with hip hop all over again.
This show was maybe my favorite of the three. Not just for the performances, but because hip hop was born in the streets and evolved in the streets and in communities like Harlem where many Black and Brown families, kids, people are still striving for liberation. All the 5x5 offerings allowed any and everybody to bask in the glow of the hip hop (r)evolution. It was an opportunity to be where the music came from and the people who keep it alive. It also felt more electric than the other two shows, because even though it was a smaller crowd, almost everyone was up and dancing, vibing to the music. The fact the Harlem show took place in a largely Black community was also special. Something all three shows had in common was the diversity of the audience. It was great to see people in their 50s and 60s with their kids and grandkids too. I also noted that in these seas of people few if any incidents occurred, that’s the hip hop community vibing to the beat 50 years later.
