Ghostface Killah @ The Rave
Nov. 2, 2010
When The Wu-Tang Clan swarmed out of Staten Island with 1993’s landmark Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers), they
did more than just reconfigure the face of hip hop, they launched an artistic empire
that has infiltrated all levels of pop culture, from fashion to film and
television. They blazed trails business-wise as well, demanding a label deal
that still allowed its members to pursue solo projects elsewhere. While this
freedom led to a variety of classic releases (Raekwon’s Only Built 4 Cuban Linx…, Method Man and Redman’s Blackout!, GZA’s Lquid Swords, etc), Ghostface Killah seems to have thrived on it
the most, dropping album after album to fan adoration and critical accolades.
In short, he’s the breakout star of a crew loaded with breakout stars, so it
was more than a little shocking that his rare Milwaukee appearance Tuesday did not take
place in the massive Eagle’s Ballroom, but the miniscule Rave bar.
The setting (complete with a photo backdrop of a vault door with
big red letters reading “MONEY IN THE BANK” which I saw only one trio of girls
sheepishly pose in front of) was more appropriate for a local rap showcase than
a visit from a world class MC. Compounding that feeling was the seemingly
endless parade of mediocre local acts, hype men, DJs and other openers that
went on for nearly four hours. Each had varying degrees of success placating a
crowd which, judging by all the W hand signs in the air, was there for one
reason and one reason only.
But when Ghostface finally bounded on stage—with Cappadonna
in tow!—he proved resolutely that Wu-Tang Clan still ain’t nothin’ to fuck
with. As he boomed through a set filled with fan favorites, including a sing-along
melody of Wu classics, the room’s small dimensions provided an intense intimacy
that allayed nagging questions as to why Milwaukee
heads hadn’t shown enough interest to fill a bigger space. For about 45 minutes
he owned the stage with a charismatic swagger before providing the night’s final
irony by claiming that, although he wasn’t ready to go, they were rushing him
off the stage. Maybe if they had cut one or two (or three or four) of the warm
up acts, people could have enjoyed a bit more of what they actually paid for.



I waited almost 4 hours but I finally got fed up and left. My lady fell asleep at the bar and my buddy started sobbing. That was the longest, crappiest foreplay I've experienced since middle school. This review is way too kind to the pre-Ghost acts. Piping that crap into Gitmo would definitely violate international law.