Since arriving in L.A. last summer, I’ve bounced between two worlds of hip-hop concerts-   blockbuster shows featuring celebrity rappers who could sell out a venue on name alone, and underground shows featuring lean rappers with rabid fans and eight-dollar-an-hour day jobs. 

There’s no contest as to where I’d rather be: the cavernous Palladium, studded with stars, or the sweaty box of On the Rox, crackling with possibility? My tally is heavily weighted towards the latter.

But increasingly, a pesky observation just won’t leave me alone.  Blame it on Keith Murray, on Ice Cube, on Tech N9ne.   Without fail, they- and many more "old schoolers," for lack of a better term- throw their hearts on the stage in a way that the new generation of rappers just doesn’t. 

This is not a red-faced “respect your elders” piece, because ain’t nobody perfect.  It’s not a gauzy, rose-colored nostalgia piece, because the good ol’ days weren’t always good.  Nor is it another black-shrouded death knell for hip hop, because I already spoke on that. 

And before you protest, yes, I’m generalizing—of course there are those in the current generation whose live shows are hype.  Of course there are rappers who really perform, who exit the stage drenched in sweat. 

In his hip-hop history bible, “Can’t Stop Won’t Stop,” Jeff Chang talks of the legendary God MC, Rakim, never smiling; and he quotes MC Shan’s recollection of cutting Rakim’s demo: “ ‘What kind of rap style is that? That shit is wack…More energy, man!’” 

Even given his notorious spotlight shunning, it makes sense that Rakim still electrifies when performing live, as he did last fall during a show at the El Rey. He came up during the era where rappers were making it up as they went along.  No one knew the behemoth hip hop would become; no one knew rap would become so profitable its stars would drink rosé in St. Tropez.  What they did know, however, was if they didn’t move the crowd, they wouldn’t be invited back to the party. 

In addition to that ingrained “give it all or you get nothing” mentality, tours are still profitable for major artists.  And if it’s a formerly major artist, the stakes are obviously higher- his live show has circled back to being do or die.  Gather up new fans and reinvigorate the old, or risk a spot on the next VH1’s “Where Are They Now?” 

The game’s changed drastically since its conception.  It hasn’t just grown up.  It’s evolved into a sleeker, savvier machine.  It lives online, not on labels.  Making it onto MTV means so much less. 

Ironically, though, rappers are again staring into the unknown.  Again, the future of hip hop is waiting to be written.  Though it may shift shapes, one constant, the audience, remains. Nothing regarding it should be taken for granted, but especially not the opportunity to hold the people in your hand after you’ve attracted them electronically.  Rappers may be issuing the invites now, but a party ain't a party if nobody comes through.  

Photo courtesy Kasey Stokes.