Editor’s note

There are certain things you take for granted at Austin shows:

1. You’re going to need earplugs, and you won’t bring them.

2. The band will most likely be drunk, rowdy and charismatic.

3. They will use that charisma to get your attention.

4. They might even request that you dance.

5. Or clap your hands.

6. You and a few others will clap your hands self-consciously for half a verse.

7. You won’t dance.

Even though the bands in Austin are loud and fun and partially interactive, most audiences just want to be left alone.

Throngs of youths with carefully self-styled swoops of hair and zom-zom glasses are prone to stand near the stage shifting their weight from leg to leg, arms folded, faces blank, trying not to betray any emotion — expressions children make at divorce hearings.

What’s interesting is how similar audiences at rock shows are to patrons of an art museum. It’s as though people at shows are trying to take the performance out of the context of the moment and judge it for what it is. And for the most part, rock bands seem to be fine with this.

Hip-hop has different standards.

On Dec. 4, MF Doom with metal-face posse in tow came to La Zona Rosa. In the wake of Doom’s most recent album (and yet another moniker adoption) the man in the iron mask was reaching peaks of crossover popularity the likes of which had not been seen since the days of Biz-Markee or Shania Twain. About 500 chucked down $25 a head for the rapper, who shares most of his core audience with Wilco and the Pixies.

There were many at the front of the stage who broke the usual Austin character when Count Base D, Doom’s DJ, opened the show. “I’m just going to play some records for you. We’re going to dance and have a good time,” Base said.

The crowd didn’t dance.

Base was in his element enough not to let the stone wall affect him, but the less well-known rappers that followed Base before the more charismatic Doom and his protege, John Robinson, were daunted.
“I don’t want your pity, I’m going to earn your respect,” said the first rapper after Count Base halfway through his coldly received set. He tramped up and down the stage trying to find an entry point through the fourth wall, while his hype man stood by, neutered and quiet after an unsuccessful attempt to juice the crowd.

When MF Doom came on, there was a slight change in the crowd, but no more than any other headliner. The crowd knew the songs, the crowd knew the mask, and the first 14 or so rows responded. But only from name recognition, not the passion that’s present in other hip-hop shows.

As hip-hop is wont to do, the new wave of rappers has overtaken its own influence. Kids who are just now starting to go to hip-hop shows don’t know the rules of engagement the rappers play by.

The rock scene in Austin has been very patient with its audience’s apathy. As artists like Bavu Blakes are finally making the ACL scene (a huge leap forward for Austin “What’s Wilco doing this September?” City Limits). Let’s hope that hip-hop in Austin has the same amount of patience.

Bring the ruckus,
Scotty Loewen