On an indistinct night in DTLA, one of hip hop’s most celebrated lyricists was about to take the stage at the artsiest building on the artsiest intersection in the city, yet there was nothing much to indicate the seismic event going on within.
It was strange. The sidewalks at Hill Street and Grand Avenue were eerily quiet. There wasn’t a blinking marquee with a star billing and there was barely a person in line. No stream of fans–just a few stragglers checking vaccine cards at the door.
Nas, an icon in the rap game since the unprecedented debut of “Illmatic” 28 years ago, performed the album at the Walt Disney Concert Hall on May 1, accompanied by the Los Angeles Philharmonic with renowned conductor Gustavo Dudamel on the baton.
The Hall’s architectural style, a marvel of engineering both inside and out, is described as deconstructivism. It is an asymmetric wonder, different on each side (if they can be called sides). Conceived by the great Frank Gehry to approximate the billowing sails of a ship, its metallic spikes and turrets sparkling against the twilight of a balmy LA sky.
Inside, the design reveals a three-story system of gleaming escalators whisking patrons from the parking lot to the lobby, with no outdoors interaction necessary–a sold out venue with no crowd scene. It felt like a deconstruction of the milieu of the pop music experience.
Inside the house, the energy finally began to match the moment. Fans were packed tightly in the intimate room, and they were ready. Suited in off-white satin, Nas seamlessly flowed through the nine-song set, his magnetic presence keeping the audience enthralled as they recited words etched in memory.
Matching the orchestra in formal black, Dudamel conducted with his legendary flair for the perfectly tuned dramatic gesticulation. The extravagance of the symphony orchestra did not seem superfluous in this room that could double as an art museum.
Nas showed artistic range, rapping effortlessly, his cadence and flow like that of a jazz musician. The influence of his father, coronetist Olu Dara, is apparent, and in his musicality and flow over instrumentation, Nas demonstrates a command of music, full stop.
The conductor brought new touches to a body of work that has aged well. Dudamel silenced the soaring strings and blaring horns for a simple bass and sax accompaniment on “One Love,” but brought the full complement to bear on the Michael Jackson “Human Nature” sample at the core of “It Ain’t Hard to Tell.” It was a gorgeous choice.
With that, the final track of “Illmatic,” Dudamel dismissed the orchestra to rousing applause. The two showmen embraced, expressing their admiration in wows (Nas) and rousing fist pumps (Dudamel).
The two savants seemed to acknowledge their ascendance from humble beginnings to the highest of stages–Nas from the slums of Queensbridge, New York, and Dudamel from a state-funded music program in Venezuela.
The Disney Hall is a far cry from the bare stages and streetscapes where rap was birthed. And the collaboration, an apt representation of the fusion of high art and pop culture, a validation of an art form that has planted its fist in the firmament of American music.
Not that it needed validation. Nas has been touring the entire album for some time now. The first such outing was in 2014 with the National Symphony Orchestra to commemorate the 20th anniversary of “Illmatic.” It was later released as the first rap concert on PBS’ Great Performances. Nas has said he knew the work “had legs.”
The remainder of the evening, with a DJ and 3-piece backing unit, Nas hit off a series of deep favorites that threatened to lift the roof.
Formalities dispensed with, the crowd leapt to its feet and stayed there, fully swept up in heavy hitters like “Hate Me Now” and the kid-centric anthem “I Can.”
When the cinematic industrial grunge of “Made You Look” enveloped the room in a climactic frenzy, signaling the first encore and the end of an epic night, Nas came back with more. “One Mic” and “Nas Is Like” soared, as the lyric, “half man, half amazing” made complete sense.
It is almost inconceivable today that a freshman project from a 20-year old would garner both timely accolades and longevity. But that is the feat of ‘Illmatic,” to be at once fresh and yet evergreen.
It received a 5-mic review in The Source, a magazine of record at the time of the album’s release. Critic Jelani Cobb would affirm Nas as “the premier writer of his time.” Unlike several other albums awarded the coveted and rare “perfect” rating, the author and the opus have stood the test of the new millenium.
In 2020, respected rap blog Passion of the Weiss, placed “Illmatic” within the timeline of rap history makers, calling it “a synthesis of style and content that paved a road forward.”
In the same way Kendrick Lamar would “f-up the game” decades later with a provocative verse on Big Sean’s “Control,” Nas called out the genre with “Illmatic.”
Kendrick’s overt challenge in 2013, “I’m tryna raise the bar high/who tryna jump and get it,” put a battery in the back of the entire industry. Almost 20 years before, Nas brazenly smacked down a cassette tape that challenged lyricists, and producers, to step their game up.
A marvel of design and production, the record raised the bar on barz, and forever changed the landscape of rap. Sonically and lyrically, it signaled a seismic shift.
That is the simple yet enduring truth of “Illmatic,” arguably the most important record in hip hop history.
Cemented years ago–while Dudamel was a boy of 12 years and the Disney Hall was non-existent—-the legacy of “Illmatic” lives on.
In the grand dame of concert halls, Nas, Dudamel and the LA Philharmonic brought a landmark night of art, hip hop and culture to Los Angeles, where greatness recognized greatness in equal parts noise, funk and flourish.