Did we embrace the Martian at South Street Seaport?

Internet hype is a crazy thing.  It has made some of the greatest MCs of the 90s look like broke, washed-up, dust heads.  Conversely it can make hordes of no-talent artists the flavor of the month, propelling them to short-term, “swag”-driven, faux-stardom.  However, when these artists break out of the blogosphere and onto the charts, you have to begin to take them seriously, regardless of their perceived validity.  Such was the case of Kid Cudi.  His overwhelmingly popular Internet mixtape “A Kid Named Cudi,” along with an invaluable co-sign from the illustrious Mr. Kanye West, launched him into our popular consciousness faster than a private-school hype-beast runs to SoHo for the latest Nike Dunk release. 

Leaving discussions of talent aside, it was this relevance that brought me to the free Kid Cudi/Chester French concert on Friday evening at South Street Seaport.  The way I see it, the Internet has removed hip-hop’s regulatory system of checks-and-balances, meaning that before an artist breaks into the mainstream channels, there isn’t really any way to confirm their validity.  The live show stands more or less as the last levee between real hip-hop fans and the sweeping tide of complete mediocrity.  Even in the age of studio rappers and online fame, everyone must eventually be tested.  A concert in New York City should in theory be Kid Cudi’s way of solidifying his place in the game and validating his talent. 

But as far as the actual show goes, it was generally underwhelming.  The beats were loud, the vocals somewhat inarticulate, the requisite MJ shoutouts present, but besides that there was little substance.  I would be lying if I said I didn’t vibe pretty hard when “Day N Nite” came on (although that may have been the drank in my system), or that the crowd wasn’t hanging on to his every word.  But was this dude spitting like 40 bar freestyles like Jay or taking ten-minute impromptu vocal solos a la Mos?  Of course not.  He didn’t even have the charisma and charm of Wale or lyrical prowess of Torae.  And simply because everyone else has a habit of lowering their expectations doesn’t mean I will. 

That’s not to say that the show was horrendous in any way.  Despite some difficulties with diction and a clumsy flow that lacked developed vocal-control, he had a very strong energy.  His confidence that radiated through the crowd and reflected back to him as scores of devout fans recited even the lesser-known mixtape tracks word-for-word. 

However, what truly caught my attention on that day was not the performance but the crowd.  As the rain came down in a steady stream, flocks of hipsters ran for cover to save their precious $400 Jordans from contact with the natural elements.  At one point, as I surveyed the sheer profusion of loud neon windreakers, 90s-style snapback hats, trendy streetwear tees, and, of course, skinny jeans, I realized that this concert was a slice, a cross-section, so to speak, of the entire internet/hipster/hypebeast movement.  In short, everything that Hova’s “D.O.A.” decried. 

This group of urban and suburban youths ranging from 14-26 in age, covering all racial and sexual categories, is the new pop consumer demographic.  These are the blog-fiends, the downloaders of every new mixtape, the purchasers of every new sneaker, the quintessential representation of the neo-commercialism of the Internet Age.  As Travis McCoy (the nonthreatening, completely insipid frontman of the pop/rap/rock band Gym Class Heroes) took the stage in a special guest appearance, I realized just to what degree this crossover movement will define the future popular culture.  It seems as though this internet movement is poised to merge all forms of popular music and fashion into one commoditized, conglomerated mass: easy to buy, easy to wear, easy to package in an “alternative” disguise, easy ego-boosts for kids with their mixtapes, blogs, colorful outfits, and easy buzz-word recognition (hipster, hypebeast, etc).  What’s sad is that this movement began with independent clothing entrepreneurs, underappreciated MCs, and a bunch of critics who saw the Internet as the most powerful way to change the status quo.  But unfortunately, the problem with the mainstream is just that: no matter how much you change it, it’s still the status quo.