“Words. Words. Words.” -- Hamlet, Act 2, Scene 2.

In a time when the cynic inside me considers words to not be worth the paper they’re printed on, I am always mindful of those who use words or lyrics as a medium for their art.  As someone who measures his own words for a living, anyone who utilizes the beauty of language as if they were a painter blending oils is the proverbial “diamond in the rough” that I try to filter out of the deluge of remarks coughed out by the mainstream media.

Gift of Gab, MC for Blackalicious, put relevance back into words when he took the stage at State Theater on 5/19.  Looking “notoriously big” in a velour track suit top, red Kangol, and square specs, he presented himself as a street corner professor lecturing on the fundamental science of lyricism.  Your hips could not help but move in response to his staccato, rapid-fire delivery.  Gift of Gab used words like bricks, concrete and rebar, constructing layers of cyclical rhymes, building towards a massive, soulful explosion of words as if his mouth were a supercollider.  Interweaving politics, funk, internal dialogue, and just a dash of old fashioned ethics, Blackalicious stood apart as a poetic bastion in a sea of derivative “hip-pop.”




An obvious expert at pandering to the crowd, Gift of Gab first treated the Theater to a freestyle and impromptu lyrical douche, crowning the Tampa/St. Pete area and it’s populous as “the loudest motherfuckers on the planet.”  And who are we to argue with such an expert?  He referred to a convivial crowd that were more than anxious to bounce their arms, heads, and bodies in what could have doubled as a gospel revival show (albeit one set to multiple turntables).  At one point, Gift of Gab gave the stage to a fan offering a marriage proposal to a girl who may or may not have been at the show.  (“Ninja” Neil, please contact the Reax offices to confirm if Jamie did in fact say “yes.”)

It was scenes like these where Blackalicious made the obvious effort to tear down the walls between artist and audience.  Quite often, Gift of Gab led the way like a modern Cab Calloway, tempting the crowd to sing along in several “Hidey-Hidey-Hidey-Ho” type chants.

Many DJ/MC acts begin their sets with larger-than-life versions of their hits.  They overshadow their music with wild bombast to compensate for the blank space onstage that a complete live band would usually fill.
Blackalicious solves this dilemma with a duo of background singers, adding a vocal gospel truth to the proceedings.  The entire ensemble conjured up images of Marvin Gaye, A Tribe Called Quest, Gang Starr, James Brown, and Parliament Funkadelic (though without the Mothership).  With Chief Xcel on decks, the samples and loops take the listener on a voyage from 70’s soul power street parties to distant planets via the progressive trance of electronica.



In each song, Gift of Gab jabs at the listener by plucking his words out of thin air, spearing each syllable with an index finger.  If you are looking to mouth the words along as dictated on their albums, forget it; he raps at a speed nearly impossible to clock.  Akin to Elvis Costello, Gift of Gab uses his words not to communicate their specific ideas, but as an abstract sound.  Quite often I found myself (and the rest of the Theater) with mouth agape, watching Gift of Gab execute his lyrics like a boxer working effortlessly and rhythmically on a speed bag.

Blackalicious kicked off with “Supreme People” in an angrier, less sardonic version than that found on their new album, The Craft.  Gift of Gab lamented how he used to lecture youth, “to do right kids, nowadays all I can say is ‘Get it how you live!’”  To Blackalicious, supreme people are those individuals who desire power over people.  While the song is a an obvious biting commentary on American consumerism and the materialistic corruption of youth, Gift of Gab shocked—and ignited a political firestorm within the audience—by ending the song with a defiant chant of, “Fuck George Bush! Fuck George Bush!”   Supreme people, indeed.

“Your Move” is Blackalicious’ most accessible track, and served up a double bass, single snare beat with a subdued Gift of Gab commanding the audience to dance.  Xcel pummeled a contagious sample of electric guitar, while the background singers bobbed and weaved through a cascade of cheers.  Legions of arms bounced up and down to the beat, gesturing toward the stage in unison.

On The Craft’s self-titled track, Gift of Gab “vows to be a vessel” and recognize the higher power that plants the seeds for his inspiration.  When he preached that “music gives new life from a source inside that is forever flowing,” his passion for the art was never more self evident.  In songs such as this, the addition of background vocalists lends the song an ethereal anthemic aura, lifting hip-hop beyond its perfunctory foundation for battle lyrics.  “The Craft” gives insight into an artist’s humility over the power his own words can have for others; this is why, for Blackalicious, the simple act of putting pen to pad can be a divine experience.



When words bombard our everyday consciousness through media such as cable TV, Xbox 360, text messages, MTV2, InTouch magazine, and MySpace, an epiphany occurs when an artist uses words not just to express himself, but to evoke a deeper response from the audience.  This is where mere words are elevated to poetry, and Blackalicious’ talents prove those words need not be in Shakespeare’s iambic pentameter to qualify as poetry.