Concert/Film Review: Nas' Time is Illmatic tour
Please note: This article is published as an archive copy from Philadelphia City Paper. My City Paper is not affiliated with Philadelphia City Paper. Philadelphia City Paper was an alternative weekly newspaper in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. The last edition was published on October 8, 2015.
Despite dropping 10 albums after Illmatic, Nas' status as an artist is still largely based on the LP he wrote when he was 19.
[ 10/5 ] A decade after the release of his 1991 debut Illmatic, Nas was recording a prophetic verse on the track “We Major.” He’d had a major case of writer’s block:
First line, should it be about the hoes or the ice?
Fo-fo’s or Black Christ? Both flows’d be nice.
Rap about big paper or the black man plight.
At the studio console, asked my man to the right,
“What this verse sound like, should I freestyle or write?”
He said, “Nas, what the fans want is Illmatic — stillmatic.”
It’s an unfortunate truth that these lyrics still hold the same weight. Despite dropping 10 albums after Illmatic, Nas’ status as an artist is still largely based on the LP he wrote when he was 19.
This year marks the album’s twentieth anniversary, and Nas is touring North America with a gimmick that, at first glance, appears to be milking Illmatic’s legacy with both hands. Each show features a screening of Time is Illmatic, the new documentary about the making of the album, followed by a performance of the album in its entirety. However, even though the stunt reeks of self-indulgence, redundancy, and pandering to audience expectations, the film and performance actually manage to evade the many pitfalls set up for them.
First, it’s necessary to understand that Time is Illmatic is not a groundbreaking film in terms of its subject matter. The story of Nas’ rise to fame from the Queensbridge projects has been told umpteen times, and a 2005 episode of VH1’s Driven basically touches on all the film’s major points. Time is Illmatic instead achieves success through its framing and tone. Rather than focus on the nitty gritty details of the album’s production, the film alternates between personal anecdotes and the album’s social and political backdrop. We get a mini lecture from Cornell West about white flight. Jabari Jones, Nas’ highly quotable brother, gives us candid accounts of growing up in the crack era. In one stand-out scene, Jabari revisits the spot where he and Nas’ friend Willie Graham were shot in 1992. Jabari suffered multiple bullet wounds; Graham was killed. When Nas ran out of his building and saw his brother and best friend lying on the ground, the young Jabari simply said “Don’t tell mommy.” The moment’s dark humor and honesty cut deep, and an old story of the projects is made new. We are reminded of the high stakes in hip-hop. We are brought closer to Nasir Jones, the man, rather than Nas, the symbol and celebrity.
At the Keswick Theatre on Oct. 5, Nas’ performance was as mature and intimate as the film. Without the belligerent, raspy DJ Premier serving as his hypeman, Nas adopted a laid-back — yet still commanding — delivery. Midway through, he brought Jabari onstage to reminisce about their childhood. When rapping “Halftime,” he skipped over the dated, clumsy “my style switches like a faggot” couplet. Throughout the show, many of the “niggas” in the lyrics were replaced with “brothers” and “dudes.” Sure, both these lyrical revisions could be seen as artificial moves toward political correctness, but they created a more inclusive atmosphere.
Nas and director One9 are able to pull off the risky Time is Illmatic tour because they both take fresh approaches to old material. In fact, it’s easy to be reminded of Nas’ philosophy on The Lost Tapes: “No idea’s original./ There’s nothing new under the sun./ It’s never what you do but how it’s done.”
