When I’m asked that question (you know, that question), I say: if I have to choose one MC, one favourite to play the ‘rank the (almost always male) rappers’ game, I say:
Yasiin.
Mos Def.
Dante.
For his flow, clearly, even though his mumbling-before-it-was-a-thing is always hard to decipher.
His rhymes, yes.
But: his energy. His soul.
Of course, he’s fine too.
Now, this Yasiin onstage in a Port Melbourne warehouse in 2024 was, as he kept reminding us, 50 years old.
On Instagram Live he has chided those who comment that he is not as fine as he once was. He reminds people to elevate the commentary.
So I guess that aspect of his own elevation, his soulfulness, is what I remember when I anticipate seeing him live.
He had the odd chiding moment onstage too: he mimicked someone’s ‘woo’ sarcastically when they interrupted him.
From where I am, in creative rehab, looking to build my chops to get onstage again, and yearning for collaborators - it seemed luxurious that the years of performance behind him made him so comfortable that he could fuck around. Take his time. Go over curfew. ‘Woo’ sarcastically back.
I get that when you want to elevate the level of response, you can feel frustrated.
I know a few of the tracks from The Ecstatic, the album whose 15th birthday it was the night of the show.
Those I felt, loved, danced to.
I had already been dancing for a couple of hours to the local supports: DJ PGZ’s set overflowed with Indigenous hip hop and his guests Pataphysics, Kaiit and Drmng Now brought flows from country, beautiful voices and trumpet tone, and that strong sense of situated artists of this place.
I was actually a little surprised that Yasiin didn’t acknowledge them and country onstage.
The tracks I wasn’t as familiar with from his set were, to be frank, harder to get in to. Mostly because the mumbling together with extremely loud DJ and generally more abrasive production meant I caught very few words. There was a wall of taller dudes in front of me which mean much straining of my already much pained neck.
Look - I had extreme headache and neck pain from a couple of days and the sounds that were a refrain through the set and the generally abrasive vibration got right inside that nerve pathway and twanged it the fuck out, ok?
Of course, he also had a refrain of ‘Free Palestine, Free Sudan, Free Congo’.
This absolutely reinforced that DJ PGZ’s video backdrop looped to the Palestinian and Aboriginal flag.
I mean, I respect that Yasiin is so comfortable that he can sometimes lament being a ‘rapping machine’, play with vocalisations, be a whole human being onstage.
I respect that he still graces the stage with rose petals, his video background shows continuous footage of village life overlaid with effects that render it distorted through night-vision, the crackles and beeps of the tracks given breath when he cups his hands and whistles to us in the microphone.
I left ten minutes early and as I wound my way back through the crowd it was actually more spacious and less abrasive further away from the stage.
He did ask for the bass to be turned down and asked if we could hear what he was saying at one point.
And look, I wouldn’t mind my definitive Mos Def experience to be him whispering in my ear in a poetic huddle.
I am glad I went. It reminded me of the humanity of ageing. The reality of touring: traffic redirections, security waiting all night in the rain, trudging to where I parked my car.
It also reminded me that there are lots of ways to experience music, and that bigger concerts can be hard on the body!
So if I had to choose only one - sure. Of course there are millions of MCs and I am sure there are so many who are not cis het men that would blow my mind.
But I perform that Yasiin-esque bow of my head to acknowledge that this soul’s flow hits me. And I am grateful.