As soon as the hyphy movement had permeated the morning Bay Area fog and found its way into every last girls-night-out and study-break photo album on facebook (by way of attempted thizz faces and the conversion of every old pair of sunglasses to “”stunna shades””), it was subjected to a whole new kind of ridicule. Somewhere along the line, some spoilsports decided that in order for hip-hop to be worthwhile, it must have some sort of political/socially charged message – forgetting that at least some chunk of life (hopefully the music-listening part) should still be allotted to enjoyment. NorCal heads turned off by the zany and nonprogressive thizzer attitude complain that the movement is overshadowing a higher-quality underground, and many outsiders (mostly educated by way of aforementioned facebook albums, or the inevitably poor representation that seeped into the mainstream) view the “”go dumb”” philosophy as a literal description of its partakers – a whole lot of dead brain cells, crazed bling-hording and popping E.
But there’s something to be learned from the hyphy mindset, something we don’t get nearly enough of, especially caught on the end of the stick up UCSD’s frigid ass. “”It’s not that hard, you can do it/ Cha wanna go dumb, just loose it,”” encourages Oakland underdog Mistah Fab on his recent Ghostbuster-parody single “”Ghost Ride It,”” a Bay attitude and slang encyclopedia of sorts, currently picking up significant steam beyond its birthplace. It’s a shake-your-limbs-loose, let-your-‘phro-down approach to life, one that doesn’t give a shit what we look like doing it, and one we would all be doing ourselves a favor to indulge once in a while.
Of course, the particular rappers that end up fronting their locales to global audiences are not usually the most qualified to do so. E-40, who actually showed some promise in his beginnings, didn’t end up mixing well with the Southern crunk and sparse, tinny beats that fame delivered him. Still on success’s underbelly, though, is the carefree earnest of Mistah Fab, riding on a surprisingly fresh freestyle that could outlast a stick of Wintermint and catch-phrases like “”Baydestrian”” and “”Da Yellow Bus Rydah,”” three giddy studio albums into what promises to be a lengthy career.
Much, perhaps, like that of the man that was there before all the hyphy hype, alongside the Bay’s other major Dre (R.I.P., I feel obliged to say) and laying a historical base that all the wild-eyed youngin’s can now bounce upon. And unlike loud-mouths like E-40, Andre keeps his veteran pride on the down-low, knowing his decade-plus of experience and nine mostly solid albums – even if all anyone knows is the grinding drug anthem “”Ayo for Yayo”” – speak for themselves. He’s never been the most complex of wordsmiths, but his voice has the effect of a much-needed joint after a long day of hyper personalities, all clawing and squawking for your attention.
Friday, June 8
Andre Nickatina & Mistah F.A.B.
Price Center Plaza
