Juvenile, HPC, Black Gold, Botany Boyz, Lil’ Troy, Opposing Threat
The Metro, April 8
Such a promising start: A “twurk-off,” in which four or five supple young ladies were invited onstage to shake what their mamas gave them. Southern rap may never be politically correct, nor is it terribly long on variety, but when it’s done right, it can be as luridly satisfying as a juicy pulp novel or late-night Cinemax skin flick. For most of Sunday, it was. The DJ struck an early balance of national names (DMX, Notorious B.I.G.) and regional heroes (Three Six Mafia, 504 Boyz), while Project Pat’s “Chicken Heads” had chickenheads and coeds alike doing what can only be described as the dry-humping dance. Ask any video director; scantily clad eye candy is as essential to the Down South flavor as that bottomless beat. Back onstage, Opposing Threat represented Short Stop Records with a tight, hefty performance mostly given over to the pursuit of “ballin’.” As this is Austin, the amount of flossing couldn’t possibly match Houston or New Orleans, but OT gave convincing evidence of more going on in Waco than just the Texas Rangers Museum. As a bonus, Short Stop CEO Lil’ Troy got up next to lead both audience and his small stage army through his signature jam, “Wanna Be a Baller.” Custom-built to accompany midnight rides through H-Town’s endless eight-lane labyrinth, Troy’s 1999 anthem still resonates with anyone fiending to hit the highway in a tricked-out Impala. After more thick slabs of Hustle-town slang from the Botany Boyz, the crowd started to fidget, though whether it was from the emcee’s repeated promises of Juvenile’s imminent appearance or just a long Relay Weekend was hard to tell. Even so, local crew HPC and rapstress Black Gold acquitted themselves nicely, the former coming off grittier than a mechanic’s fingernails. Finally, with the hour getting late, doo-ragged Hot Boy Juvenile emerged — only to storm off halfway through”400 Degreez,” because he couldn’t hear himself in the monitors. Fifteen minutes, one request for a bottle of Hennessy, and an offer to fight the “whiteboy” soundman later, he returned for maybe three songs, capped by an extremely cursory “Back That Azz Up.” Southern hip-hop may dwell on shaking that ass and getting crunk in the club, but it’s also about hustling, and 500 people times $35 a ticket equals a hefty take — hardly a bad night in any baller’s estimation. Still, Juvenile’s abrupt mini-set had to leave some thinking, “$35? I could’ve got two table dances for that!”
This article appears in April 20 • 2001.