OutKast: Live in London by Gavin Martin Lyrics
The Laurel And Hardy of phuture rap
They don't come much crazier or more outrageous than Outkast, their physical presence turning out to be every thing that their funky futurist classic Stankonia album suggests. This is true of their backing singers, too, and also the brilliantly-primed musicians who groove around looking cool'n'deadly for 30 minutes before Big Boi and Andre (the latter in skyscraper high afro and all-in-one padded purple jumpsuit) come bounding onstage.
Britain and the world at large may have just tuned into Outkast, but all three albums prior to Stankonia have been conceptual and sonic delights. Listen to Supercaddilacmusik, ATliens and Aquemini and you'll discover a cache of fiery visions and mercurial riches. With their heavy patois and alternatively enraged and comic raps, they are the Laurel And Hardy of phuture rap. And once the prescient, straight-to-the jugular protest of their 'Gasoline Dreams' sets the scene, they raid their past, joyfully and seemingly at random.
Stankonia establishes Outkast as the premier studio maestros of the moment but, live, their links to older crazier traditions – draw in from screen comedy, Medicine Shows, street life – is joyously apparent. The deep soul and Southern funk flows from the past far out into cyberspace, but its all bounded by rabid confidence and the wide open humour evident in both the conciliatory 'Ms Jackson' and the celebratory gender-appeasing 'Call Before I Come'.
Andre, who's stripped down to the waist by midway point, is the most riveting performer to grace a London stage since prime-time Prince. Between them the duo seem to have invented their own language and when Boi is laying down the law and Dre is momentarily lost for words, he stands grinning, admiring his flexing plecs, twitching in time to the beat. Sweet Simultaneously a brilliant gimmick and the most vital funk'n'rap'n'roll band you've ever seen or heard, Outkast deliver on every level. To think Eminem asked these guys to support him – he's obviously a far braver man than we ever suspected.
They don't come much crazier or more outrageous than Outkast, their physical presence turning out to be every thing that their funky futurist classic Stankonia album suggests. This is true of their backing singers, too, and also the brilliantly-primed musicians who groove around looking cool'n'deadly for 30 minutes before Big Boi and Andre (the latter in skyscraper high afro and all-in-one padded purple jumpsuit) come bounding onstage.
Britain and the world at large may have just tuned into Outkast, but all three albums prior to Stankonia have been conceptual and sonic delights. Listen to Supercaddilacmusik, ATliens and Aquemini and you'll discover a cache of fiery visions and mercurial riches. With their heavy patois and alternatively enraged and comic raps, they are the Laurel And Hardy of phuture rap. And once the prescient, straight-to-the jugular protest of their 'Gasoline Dreams' sets the scene, they raid their past, joyfully and seemingly at random.
Stankonia establishes Outkast as the premier studio maestros of the moment but, live, their links to older crazier traditions – draw in from screen comedy, Medicine Shows, street life – is joyously apparent. The deep soul and Southern funk flows from the past far out into cyberspace, but its all bounded by rabid confidence and the wide open humour evident in both the conciliatory 'Ms Jackson' and the celebratory gender-appeasing 'Call Before I Come'.
Andre, who's stripped down to the waist by midway point, is the most riveting performer to grace a London stage since prime-time Prince. Between them the duo seem to have invented their own language and when Boi is laying down the law and Dre is momentarily lost for words, he stands grinning, admiring his flexing plecs, twitching in time to the beat. Sweet Simultaneously a brilliant gimmick and the most vital funk'n'rap'n'roll band you've ever seen or heard, Outkast deliver on every level. To think Eminem asked these guys to support him – he's obviously a far braver man than we ever suspected.