Hip-hop artist Immortal Technique’s show at Neumos in Seattle on November 30th was pretty much what hip-hop shows of that sort are all about. It was loud, vulgar, and there were college students dancing. Immortal Technique is a Harlem rapper of Afro-Peruvian descent, best known for his provocative lyrics focusing on the injustices of global-capitalism. In his tirade against capitalism, he moves rather intelligently between the level of the individual and the level of the society. He berates the injustices sprung upon them by capitalism.
They are the standard ones pointed out by angry left-wingers. For instance, in one song, Technique rapped, “The boarders should be illegal instead of the people.” He has reason to be angry, and he astutely analyzes the wrongs of our economic-system. In another song, he explains “I’m losin’ my composure ‘cuz my message is urgent.” However, I had to wonder whether his militancy serves only to make his message more palatable to an audience craving fat drum beats and bass lines.
There is certainly no mistaking Immortal Technique’s music for the educated, sophisticated brand of underground hip-hip generated by artists like Mos Def and Del the Funkee Homosapien. Both of these artists have committed themselves to producing works of a certain narrative and aesthetic complexity, proving that hip-hop can stand with any other artistic medium. There is something far more direct in Technique’s work. He does not have the air of college-education. He has something real from the streets, and he raps like the street's on stage: the urgency, the frustration, the anger.
While watching Technique saunter hulkishly about the stage, spitting machine-gun rhymes into the mic, and the contingency of fratty University of Washington kids hoot like they were at a football game, the social dimension to Technique’s work faded into the background. This was apparent when Technique announced that the previous night he had performed in Eugene, Oregon. The crowd erupted in boos and heckles, reacting to the sports rivalry between University of Oregon and UW. Indeed, the militancy was palpable in the air. It was evident in the names of the opening performers D.J. GI Joe and Rebel Armz. Immortal Technique’s shirt featured a black and white rendering of an AK-47. At one point, a rapper backing up Technique even confronted a disruptive audience member and challenged him to a fight.
There is this seemingly insurmountable contradiction between Technique’s self-described message of unity and self-empowerment and all the militant imagery he laches onto. When Technique later announced between songs that, “parenting is the highest form of art there is,” I just didn't know what to make of the irony. Still, Immortal Technique was a polished and professional performer. He should not be dismissed as a simple, grimy hip-hop act, even though a lot of people probably showed up to see just that. A refrain repeated by the performers throughout the evening was “lyrics still matter.” It was a slogan delivered to the hypothetical hoards of “fake” rappers. I don’t know if lyrics still matter, or if they ever even did. Such a phrase is an oversimplification. All I know is that such reductionisms are easy to swallow by hot and sweaty audiences.