In Atlanta, Goodie Mob still reigns supreme
September 21st, 2009 by Rodney Carmichael in Music news
SEE THE GOODIE MOB PHOTO GALLERY
In the last several years, the state of Georgia underwent a drought so severe it led Governor Sonny Perdue to pray for rain on the steps of the state Capitol in 2007.
Meanwhile, the city of Atlanta continued to suffer from a drought of another kind: It seemed the Dirty South was all wet.
So the torrential rains that fell almost nonstop upon Atlanta in the week leading up to Goodie Mob’s reunion concert seemed like a supernatural sign that the group’s return might wash away the bullshit and bring back the real South — if only for one night.
By the time Khujo, Big Gipp, T-Mo and Cee-Lo stepped to the front of the stage around 9:06 p.m. — after an old-school set by Atlanta DJ Kizzy Rock, performances from Pastor Troy and Youngbloodz, and an intro that spoke to the occasion (”We are Success-N-Effect, some A-Town Playas”) from former Def Jam poet Georgia M.E. — the rains had calmed to barely a drizzle.
With the Masquerade Music Park crowd estimated near 3,700 (according to numbers provided by the promotions team responsible for the show, Shameless Plug), it was surprising to see fans near the front of the stage oblige the requests of those behind them by closing their umbrellas so everyone could witness the onstage reunion of Atlanta’s hip-hop legends.
Draped in a fire red, hooded monk’s robe that matched the rest of the crew’s color-coded outfits, Khujo set it off with his opening verse from “Goodie Bag”:
“So put some fie on the ass end of that weed/’cause in the S.W.A.T.S. red hots don’t drop or bleed…”
With those words, the homecoming commenced.
Next came “Get Rich to This,” a puzzling pick since many consider that debut single from the Mob’s third album as the point when they began to derail. But as guest performer and Dungeon Family member Backbone commented last week, the hook he originally wrote for the song never quite delivered his intended meaning.
Cee-Lo, resembling a baby Buddha in his silky red outfit, came to the edge of the stage next and began to sing his verse from OutKast’s “Git Up, Git Out” to the tune of Spandau Ballet’s ’80s hit, “True.” Big Gipp followed, looking every bit the part of Ron O’Neal in Superfly, with his red velvet pimp suit complete with a matching bat cape, feather boa and his straightened hair flowing behind him.
By then, Khujo had peeled out of his monk’s robe to reveal a red short-sleeve Dickie suit, and later, a red wife-beater. He seemed to get around with no problem on stage, despite his prosthetic leg which replaced the right leg he lost (below the knee) after his near-tragic 2005 car accident. T-Mo was hood hard, dressed in a red Dickie suit topped off with a red-tinted tennis visor and a gold dookie rope.
Together, they looked like a perfect fit.
“Thought Process” came next, minus Andre 3000’s verse, followed by more Soul Food: “Dirty South” and “Sesame Street.” Next, Cee-Lo readied the crowd for his Frankie Beverly impression before singing Maze’s “Before I Let Go.” But when he sung the Gnarls Barkley hit “Crazy,” after Goodie Mob’s “Black Ice,” the crowd seemed more anxious to hear more Mob material than they were in the mega-hit.
“Y’all hungry?” Khujo barked into the mic, setting up “Soul Food.” “I say is y’all hungry? It’s time to eat y’all.”
The rest of the set included an almost acoustic, slower version of “Beautiful Skin” dedicated to the womenfolk, followed by special guest Sleepy Brown (of Dungeon Family) and Gipp performing “Steppin’ Out.” Cee-Lo performed “The One” (”wave ya finger in the air if you the one, girl”) with a bootleg-looking T.I. stand-in wearing a shimmery gold shirt and belt.
The highlight came near the end when the Mob performed one of its biggest hits “Cell Therapy,” to the head-banging tune of Black Sabbath’s “Iron Man.” It was monstrous.
The Goodie bag of surprise guests ended with Big Boi coming out to perform his verse from Trick Daddy’s “In Da Wind” with Cee-Lo.
But the audience itself seemed to serve as the fifth member, with fans reciting lyrics word-for-word and throwing ‘bows (especially during “They Don’t Dance No Mo’”) as if they, too, were onstage and happy to be reunited with family. And when Cee-Lo asked at the close of the show if the audience was ready for a new Goodie Mob album, a thunderous response rang out into the night sky.
I found myself looking around at the surrounding crowd as much as the Mob on stage. Somehow, I felt connected to the whole crowd — white and black, natives and transplants, alike. I even recognized a former elementary school crush standing not too far behind me. The last time I’d spotted her, nearly 10 years ago, she was working at one of Atlanta’s well-known, defunct gentlemen’s clubs. Ironically, Sleepy Brown and Big Boi had been in the spot that night, too. In one way or another, it felt like the whole city had come full circle.
More than a return to form, the concert was a reminder of a time when Atlanta rap served as the mouthpiece for the voiceless. Besides Goodie Mob’s spiritual vibe, there was always a sociopolitical urgency to their music. The Dirty South stood for more than just the vagaries of growing up in the ‘hood, it was their way of critiquing crooked politicians (Newt Gingrich, ZelI Miller, Eldrin Bell, Bill Clinton, former Mayor Jackson, even former Councilman Buddy Fowlkes, were all mentioned on the 1995 debut Soul Food) and their sometimes crooked politics-as-usual (pre-1996 Olympics gentrification, Hartsfield airport scandal, local growth of the prison industrial complex).
Then there was everything else that made Atlanta, and the South by extension, so gloriously durty: Freaknik, cruising Mosley and Maddox parks on Sunday afternoons, Greenbriar Mall, the OMNI, Red Dog police unit, Campbellton Rd., East Point, Southwest Atlanta.
The same thing that made Goodie Mob so significant was the same thing that kept them from gaining even more national prominence. They rapped about things that were so specific to Atlanta that even today Soul Food serves as a time capsule for what it was like, not only in 1995, but to grow up in Atlanta in the ’80s and early ’90s. The context was local, but the themes were universal.
And at a time when “Dirty South” has become as cliché as the rappers who claim to represent it, it was refreshing to remember the real Atlanta.
Right after the show, the rain resumed and it hasn’t stopped since. Whether there’s any supernatural meaning to glean from that or not, who knows. But one thing’s for certain: The drought is over.
Set list:
1) “Goodie Bag”
2) “Get Rich to This”
3) Cee-Lo’s and Big Gip’s verses from OutKast’s “Git Up, Git Out” to the tune of Spandau Ballet’s “True.”
4) “Thought Process”
5) “Dirty South”
6) “Sesame Street”
7) “Before I Let Go” (Cee-Lo’s Frankie Beverly/Maze impression)
8) “Black Ice”
9) “Crazy” (Cee-Lo)
10) “Soul Food”
11) “Beautiful Skin” (with Cee-Lo singing Donna Summer’s “Love to 12) Love You, Baby” at the end)
13) “Steppin’ Out” (Sleepy Brown w/Big Gipp)
14) “The One” (Cee-Lo w/T.I. replacement)
15) “Cell Therapy” (to the tune of Black Sabbath’s “Iron Man”)
16) “In Da Wind” (Trick Daddy song feat. Cee-Lo w/surprise guest Big Boi coming out to do Trick Daddy’s part)
17) “They Don’t Dance No Mo”
18) Cee-Lo’s Soul Food intro, “Lord It’s So Hard…” (sung by the crowd)
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