Several questions plagued me as I watched Lyrics Born warm up for Cypress Hill at the Palace on Friday night. Questions like, “When did all my favorite rappers get so fat? What’s going on with that sound?” and finally; ”’How did all these bogans get $75!?” The first time I saw Cypress Hill I was a 14-year old boy, attending his first concert after smoking his first bong. Needless to say i was fairly excited about the whole experience! Since then I have ripened into an oldskool, jaded and cynical bastard. The downside of this is that it’s now a little more difficult to get as excited as i was back then; i remember being thrilled to bits as B-Real made random threats to the police and had the audacity to blaze a joint live on stage.

Fast forward fifteen years and things are looking a little different. Warming up for Cypress is Lyrics Born, a little chubbier than I remember him, and is playing generic call-and-response games with a lukewarm crowd. Somewhere between his stunning early releases as one half of Latyrics (please check out the self-titled album if you haven’t heard it) this guy has become a fairly boring funky party MC with a negligible amount to say. Nevertheless, a couple of tracks were truly dope and had everyone in the crowd rocking, from the rowdy boys in the mosh pit to the cynical writer type (yes that’s me) hanging over the balcony for a better view.

Lyrics Born eventually finished up his hip hop by numbers routine and DMC champ DJ Perplex took to the stage to fill the gap for the next 30 minutes. The thing about groups as legendary as Cypress Hill is that they are able to generate a rabid fanbase who care only about their music. Crowds like this can be tough to open for and Perplex, was probably a little discomforted by their general demeanour. Not only did the crowd not seem to appreciate his club/turntablist set, they continued to boo and at one stage threw beer onto the decks. Although punters further back in the club were bobbing and swaying to the odd track here and there, the only strongly positive reaction Perplex got was when he and a roadie type carried the decks off stage to make way for the main act.

The crowd then surged forward in all of its motley glory, and it became apparent that this was pretty much a human zoo. Do you remember those kids that used to hang out at the shopping centre when you were thirteen? Well, in my case those guys are now
well into their late twenties, still unemployed and still rocking hockey jerseys and rats tails. They also comprise a healthy section of Cypress Hill’s Australian fanbase. It always amuses me when the crowd goes wild each time a fat soundman treks across the stage with a cable. After a long sequence of people running back and forth I made the assumption that that even the most inebriated crowd members would now realise that there was something badly wrong with the sound.

Cypress Hill’s DJ (not Muggs) and percussionist Eric Bobo turned up on stage and began to do some skillfully disguised sound checking. Basically it looked like the drums weren’t miked up right and every time Bobo would hit the big tom in the middle, the whole sound would go quiet. People were getting a bit restless and began to chant the name of their favorite group yet again. This all continued for a good ten minutes – which must’ve felt like a lot longer for the guys on stage. Bobo kept testing the drums out and gradually became more and more frustrated. Eventually B-Real came out on stage. It wasn’t a huge entrance, he just kinda walked out but it was enough for the hungry fans and they went mental.

The mic levels were so crap that at first I wasn’t even sure what songs they were doing – Sen Dog joined him onstage and it became more obvious – kind of a quick medley of some of their earlier hits such as Hand On The Pump and How I Could Just Kill a Man as well as Insane in the Brain. B-Real looked a little tired and although both he and Sen Dog kept it professional, it was kind of obvious that they weren’t having the best time in the world. Roadies and sound guys continued to scuttle about during the performance and appeared to be rewiring up the drumkit mics; Bobo would play along over the beats and shake his head as B-Real and Sen Dog continued to work their way through various classics.

There was no onstage weed smoking this time around as they launched into Hits From The Bong – the crowd for the most part seemed to be having a good time, singing along to every single lyric, but somehow I felt like the show didn’t quite live up to expectations. Eventually Bobo’s percussion issues were resolved and although the vocals remained unclear in certain parts, the overall energy of the band felt better. What blew me away the most is most people pretty much seemed satisfied – I spoke to a guy in the crowd next to me who said he hadn’t realised there was anything wrong with the sound until I pointed it out. I found this truly astonishing!

Cypress Hill finished up with Rock Superstar to uproarious applause and then disappeared, the crowd made with all the regular noise and begged for an encore but it was pretty clear that the homies from the hill had well and truly departed. I considered interviewing a few suburban gangstas to find out whether they felt they had got their $75 worth, but after considering it for a bit I decided I really didn’t feel like getting punched in the face by a caveman with a mullet…