MinneapolitanMusic

Last night I got home from work, kicked off my shoes, and contemplated staying in for the evening despite my plans for heading out to the Fine Line for Leroy Smokes. There is something about coming home from work and sitting down on the couch that makes me want to stay in forever. Nonetheless, I eventually talked myself into going and rounded up a few friends to come with.

When we got to the club, the doorman stamped my hand with the word ADDICT spelled out in tall, bright blue letters. I rubbed my hand a bit, wondering if I'd be able to wash it off before work in the morning, since it so clearly hinted at my alternate life that I try desperately to hide from "the office." Before I had too much time to mull it over, though, I was swept into the crowd and handed a cocktail and pushed up toward the dancefloor, and all of a sudden I was so relieved to be back in the swell of it all. It had been almost two weeks since I had seen a show, and it was about damn time for a fix.

The concert was great. There was an entertaining mix of people, hollaback girls and hoodrats and posers and cool cats, some hip-hop stars and some just wannabes, all with at least one drink in their hand. I really dug a guy called Golden who rapped about being a rapper in Minneapolis, and about taking the power away from the "radio rappers" and making songs real again. He rapped about saving music "like Nirvana wiped out the hair bands." He rapped about his idols, and how he hoped to be better than all of them someday. Most importantly, he rapped about things that were relevant and real, and he made people listen.

I Self Divine was not as interesting as I expected them to be. I thought that their raps and beats were a little repetitive and not very danceable, but it did make a great contrast against the vibe of the room when Leroy Smokes hit the stage. I'm going to write up a review of the show, so I don't want to blow it all here, but those guys know how to make a party erupt in the middle of the dancefloor. Plus I'm just a sucker for hip-hop groups with live backing bands.

So now I'm at work, and, as I figured, the stamp won't wash off my hand. I wore long sleeves today, pulled down past my palms, so my boss won't see my other life and realize that the bags under my eyes are from staying out until the wee hours on a school night.

I've gotta find a place where it's ok to be an ADDICT.