Nappy Roots — as trio on Wednesday — spiked their hour-plus set with sleaze but managed to slide by with an overall strong performance. Photo from .
There is something fascinating about rap from the South that sets it apart from the traditions of hip-hop’s bi-coastal capitals. Rubber-band beats combined with a nonchalant attitude and the slow-drip of a true Southern accent acts part hypnotizer, part panty-dropper, and fully embody it. Their show Wednesday night at the showed that even if the spotlight has thus far eluded the Kentucky natives, they are very much holding it down for the South.
Nappy Roots’ hype man, Sonny Bonoho, had all but put me to sleep with his generic “do you love hip-hop?” whoops and hollers before the dudes appeared, but once Skinny Deville and Fish Scales graced the stage and started in on “Small Town,” everything was magically better.
As the song wound down, the stage door burst open and revealed a buck wild Big V, and the trio got right to the point with their biggest hit to date, 2002’s “Awnaw,” a track thick with church organs and gooey southern slang. They danced in perfect saggy synchronization, forearms vertical as the three made circular motions with their fists.
The DJ dropped the Luniz classic “I Got 5 On It” and stepped forward as an invisible force tossed all foursome back and forth on the stage in one graceful move, Big V again taking the spotlight as he spit lines intensely, a white bandana covering one eye. Dead Prez and Swishahouse samples were woven through Nappy’s “Po’ Folks” and “Ballin’ on a Budget,” Deville flipping through lines quickly as he grinned from behind big sunglasses in the near-dark venue.
“Hustla” and No Static” came through with force, but the set was distractedly cluttered with random samples by Aaliyah, Big Pun, Nirvana, Ol’ Dirty Bastard, Rick James, Notorious B.I.G., Tupac and even Tracy Chapman. They wound down with “Blowin’ Trees” and “Good Day,” Nappy’s fluidity as a threesome evident as Scales and Deville’s syrupy swaggers ran between Big V sped-up lines.
Then, as if for no reason whatsoever, the smooth party vibe of the Nappy’s performance was killed, squashed by some greasy-haired girl dressed up like a bad Peaches impostor in a too tight silver get-up. Nappy Roots led Bri Da Mac on stage to do some creepy stripper-like chair grinding while she performed a Mary Jane Girls-style rip-off rap/song, and that was my cue to leave. The feeling went from awesome to awful in a matter of sleazy moments, and I left a little disappointed by the unneeded shift.
Minus low-budget debacle at the end of the show, Nappy Roots slid by with a successful show. The crowd was slow to get into the Kentucky-laced jams, but Nappy Roots brought a full-on house party vibe to the Marquis with their hour-plus long set. Next time, they should just leave the skeezy exotic dancer in Atlanta.
Bree Davies plays bass in , writes about her obsessions with Iggy Pop and Lil’ Wayne in and repeatedly fakes her own death at . She is also a self-proclaimed addict.
