Concert review: El-P at...Urban Outfitters?!?

"We built this scene, you dudes are just quitters / You probably shop at Urban Outfitters."

Okay, so I'm not a battle rapper, and no one has ever used this line. But it's something you might expect to hear at Scribble Jam, the annual underground hip-hop festival best known for its emcee battles featuring underground stalwarts like Sage Francis, Brother Ali, and other guys you're more likely to find in raggedy jeans and work boots than an "Everyone Loves a Jewish Boy" T-shirt.

And so it was with a slight sense of befuddlement that I headed to Urban's massive Sixth Avenue location for a free in-store performance by pioneering emcee/producer El-P (pictured), who burst onto scene with a brazen "independent as f---" mantra in the early '90s and has made a few Scribble Jam appearances in his day. But if the irony of performing a few feet from a stack of T-shirts declaring "Hip-Hop Is Dead" was apparent to the Brooklyn native, he didn't let it stop him from treating the intimate crowd to an energetic and honest 30-minute set.   

Ushered onstage by the eerie strains of Gary Jules' "Mad World," El-P joined his "band" — a bassist, hype man, and keyboard player alongside the legendary DJ Mr. Dibbs (who, incidentally, co-founded Scribble Jam) — and launched into a set that ran the gamut from 2002's Fantastic Damage to the recent single "Smithereens." With El-P's futuristic beats and dense, metaphor-laden lyrics blasting out of the speakers, it would have been nearly impossible for newcomers to the music to decipher what was being said. But the emcee controlled the stage more like a rock star, head banging his way through the music and encouraging the crowd to forget about the strictures of the well-lit retail space and "jump as high as you f---ing can."

No one started ripping Adidas track jackets off the walls or dancing on top of immaculately organized display tables, but El-P certainly grabbed the attention of his audience, which ranged from zealous fans chanting the words of every song to delegates of the New York City Brotherhood of People Who Will Do Anything For Free (even when they have no idea what it is). His only acknowledgment of the atypical crowd was to ask, “How many people are at their first ever hip-hop performance?”, which was greeted by one middle-aged man jumping up and down awkwardly and yelling, "I love hip-hop! I love hip-hop… We're all white, let's just be friends." Okay…

The unlikely show was organized as part of the Free YR Radio campaign developed by Urban Outfitters and Toyota to support independent music and non-commercial radio stations. Urban Outfitters is hosting free performances by indie artists at locations around the country, and stations like New Haven's WNHU (who co-sponsored the El-P event) will receive proceeds through a compilation CD released through Urban Outfitters this fall.

So why are Urban Outfitters and Toyota interested in indie radio? Who knows, but El-P was clearly more interested in providing a free show in his native New York than anything else. Though he told everyone that they "checked their right to boo at the door" when they signed up for a free concert, he connected well with the crowd, stopping the music several times to share his thoughts on religion, President Bush, and life on the road.

"We’ve been across the whole f---in' world in the past four months," he said. "And it really…it pretty much sucks. I like to think that I’m expanding my horizons and becoming a better person, but I’m not. Everywhere I go just reminds me of why I’m completely inadequate and incapable of living anywhere but New York City."

With his amiably misanthropic rants about how we're all going to burn miserably in Hell ("It's kind of awesome, actually, because we're all going down together"), El-P could potentially find a second career as a standup. He joked around about his insecurities, stopped a song when he forgot the words (not that anyone would have known), and stuck around to talk to fans afterwards. Yet as he spoke about the press coverage of Al Qaeda and performed "Flyentology," a clever song about the religious uncertainty he experienced in the wake of a near-fatal plane crash, I couldn't keep my eyes off the walls of apparel bearing slogans like "Hot for Hillary" and "Jesus Is My Homeboy." Somehow it just didn't add up.

Am I being to cynical, PopWatchers? Is Urban Outfitters doing a good thing by sponsoring this campaign, or do these concerts act in the same way as many of the T-shirts on their racks — a shorthand for cultural "hipness" that may not actually exist? Has "selling out" become more complicated than ever?