Talib Kweli

They say that in hip hop, emcees get the glory, DJs get the girls, and b-boys draw the crowds. When I was in high school and still in my Asian wigger heyday, all I could think about was the glory. I badly wanted to be an emcee. An Asian emcee.

There's got to be a void out there in the industry for a Vietnamese rapper, right? I went through three different rap names -- Cassius Clay, Scorpio, and Pistol Pete -- because I was positive I could do for yellows what Eminem did for whites.

When I wasn't rapping with my homeys during study hall or working on my LP or thinking up new and creative rap names, I was at home posting original rap lyrics on all of the popular "battle rap" websites. My proudest moment came when I got the lyric of the week at mrblunt.com (I know how horrible that poem is, but I was only 17... don't be too harsh).

But let's just say that I was extremely, extremely underground. Worldwide, I think I sold a total of 3 copies of the rap album I eventually recorded.

My rap days have long been over, but I still appreciate a great rap lyricist. With all of the Li'l Jons and Nellys dominating the charts, people refuse to believe there is any substance to quality rap music.

Enter Talib Kweli. He's not quite mainstream, but has gained the admiration of the likes of Jay-Z for his sharp delivery and lyrical wit. People don't know this, but he's part of the late 90's hip hop revival that brought the genre away from the tired gangsta motifs.

Tonight I got a chance to see Talib in concert, and he was amazing. He's an MC in every sense of the word, mastering the ceremony. But it's sad, because as he was taking me higher and higher with his lyrical fire, I looked around to see the confused faces of white, suburban kids who only know Dave Matthews. Even the black kids were wondering why Talib couldn't give us something easier like "Hey Ya" or "Gin and Juice" or whatever they play at frat parties.

Talib noticed. Abruptly, he asked the light effects people to turn off the lights. So they dimmed it. "No no no," he said. "All the way off. Turn the lights all the way off."

And then the entire concert hall was pitch black -- you couldn't see a thing -- and Talib started rapping. All you could hear was his voice and the sample of "Eleanor Rigby" from the Beatles that he was using. It was pure genius. Everybody understood what he was trying to do, and right then and there people threw "pop" rap out the window, in favor of good old-fashioned emceeing.

What a great concert.

I'm going to end this entry with my all-time favorite Talib Kweli quote: "People fight for what's left and not what's right."