Hip Hop Kemp had the feeling of giving one last big fat wet kiss to summer. Action packed enough to roughen up muscles you never knew about, but quick enough to take any beating…and pay a couple days later.
Unlike recent personal adventures with leaky tents, missing equipment, and trips to the hospital, this three day affair was like sailing on clear waters with a nice wind at your back, and a steady baseline to paddle home to.
Now I should admit upfront, I’m about as up (or down) on the current state of Hip Hop as I am on the Lisbon Treaty. But good music is good music, and considering the amount of new bands to discover, I was confident in my pending re-education.
First lesson: there’s a lot more to a Hip Hop festival than just Hip Hop. I mean, I know it’s billed as a music festival, but that would seem to detract from just how much more was actually going on.
To use a literary reference, remember the part in Pinocchio where he gets taken by the Wolf to some playground where bad little boys can do anything they want all day long. Imagine that – HipHop style.
For starters, if you’ve never seen female chocolate wrestling in the flesh before, and want to know what it’s like, I’d say it tastes great in the moment, but like all things too sweet, potentially bad for your teeth if you were to cross paths against the tournament’s victor.
Judging by the spray patterns of the chocolate on my lens, and the velocity of her hip toss, I’d bet this girl wears a Gi to bed, and would kick ass in most Judo dojos. I almost even felt bad for the poor skinny hot girls she had to splatter on her way up who thought it was just going to be one big slippery pygama party to tease the gathered Romans.
Noted that when push came to splash, the crowd didn't seem to share any of my sympathies.
Luckily, for those dirty in either body or mind, Axe was there to kindly provide front row showers for the armies of little Hip Hop soldiers who simply need a good lathering after a hard day of bungee jumping, gladiator fighting, and smoking up. And if your weary arms are too heavy to hit the hard-to-reach places from too much popping and locking, fear not brave B-Boy, for all the scrubbing is left up to the bikini clad tag-teams of Axe girls who will scrub all your worries away.
If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I’d be hard pressed to believe just how life changing a good shower could be until I witnessed some bedraggled wanderer step up (after the MC insisted that he really take a shower), to be flogged by all four ladies of the shower into an emotional meltdown normally reserved for first place beauty queens.
Not many know this, but before I realized that the hot chicks of my youth liked dudes with long hair and ripped denim, I had actually once donned my very own nylon suit and shell toes, and unsuccessfully skipped school to go see Electric Boogaloo.
Yes, the manicured streets of Toronto’s East Beaches were meaner then. My family had no bottled water, so I did whatever I had to on the streets just to survive. As I heard there would be an entire stage dedicated to break dancing, I became rather nostalgic for my humble beginnings.
For two days straight, in a seemingly endless display of energy, groove, and free spirit, a perpetual stream of B-boys and B-girls proudly took center stage to show all their best stuff in a way that would leave Newton wondering. To party-goers delight, the friendly display of gravity-defying competition inevitably spilled into the after-parties, giving an extra air of electricity to the nights.
For anyone else with a remotely competitive spirit, the Gambrinus City playground was the place to be, where the term “Beer Games” is given a whole new meaning. I had to keep a straight face when asked if I was under the influence of any drugs or alcohol before signing the customary waiver.
Unfortunately, despite a little well-placed trash talk on my part, none of my Hip Hop comrades would engage me in any head to head competition directly. Even though I gave up a good 20 kilo advantage in the tug-of-war to my Expat homie, Dom, I was forced to compete against my personal bests scaling Mount Beer, and taming the wild Beer-Bull. (Probably better not to mention the wall of Velcro.) Needless to say, I kicked my ass.
Oh yeah, I almost forget: the music.
Although I may not have seen many, between burning calories and blueberry muffin runs, there are a few that standout.
The best way to exemplify the fun, easy going mood of the weekend was with a set from Jurassic 5’s Chali 2NA. It was clear this was a seasoned pro onstage who knew how to connect with the crowd…sending them positive energy, and reaping the rewards in a symbiotic cycle he has clearly completed many times.
Happily free of any of the stereotypical Hip Hop posturing conjured by MTV, Chali and his band certainly delivered the goods, fat, smooth and funky, under a clear sky with great vibes.
Adding another layer to the international landscape was French imports Beat Torrent, featuring SAT and Le Turf. I’ve always loved French Hip Hop for its laid back smoothness, and these guys were definitely working their charm, but as a Canadian I always find it pretty funny when a Frenchman raps or sings in English. I know I shouldn’t laugh considering my own deficiencies in Czech, but there is something pretty funny when an MC tell the crowd to “put your ands in de air if you like Eep Op”.
In a defiant contrast the other bands was I remembered the last day was Necro. I had never heard of them until some nasty beat literally pulled me from the tent and lead me in a daze to the main stage. What followed was an assault of some of the most creatively venomous lyrics I had ever heard, all delivered in a relentless staccato that seemed to stalk you like the mercury man from Terminator.
As a word of advice, if you ever need to put the fear of death into someone, leave them a voicemail recording from a Necro lyric. That dude stealing your lunch sandwiches will be looking over his shoulders for years every time he smells pepperoni. And you’ll have a great sound track to boot.
After the Necro show, things become a little fuzzy. After deciding I was ready for sleep, I do recall one last ravenous impulse to stuff as many chicken skewers, Chinese noodles, and blueberry muffins in my mouth as quickly as possible before stumbling home. One quick nap later, and it was all done.
Goodbye sweet summer. Can’t wait for the remix.
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