Superjam '97: Good Times?

There were lumpy beats galore at WJMN ("Jammin 94.5") FM's Superjam '97 concert at the FleetCenter last Thursday, plus a whole lot of noise and attitude. Breakdancers backing up the acts on stage did the spider crawl, the flirty flather, and the syncopated somersault. And 15,000 kids filled the Fleet's seat rows from floor level to ceiling, screaming and showing off their good stuff to a hip-hop bill featuring newcomers Ginuwine and BLACKstreet, teen star Aaliyah, heartthrobs LSG (Gerald Levert, Keith Sweat, and Johnny Gill), and rap pros Shaggy, Rob Base, L.L. Cool J, and Salt-n-Pepa.

Each of these acts returned the audience's compliments, showing its good stuff back to the kids. Ginuwine and Salt-n-Pepa were outrageously bawdy. Shaggy, BLACKstreet and LSG harmonized, Rob Base sounded spanky, L.L. Cool J precise. But the most emblematic moments of the night were Aaliyah's. Although 17 years old, she acted seven, as if she were afraid to grow up, unwilling to let go of her carefree school days. Using the fuzzy soft voice that Michael Jackson turns to when he needs to drown his demons in placebo, Aaliyah hunkered down to an almost fetal position as she sang about love and want and being as little a girl as possible.

Others used the placebo voice too, but with less awareness. Most of the night's acts needed big block-rocking beats to stiffen their spirits, but not Aaliyah. She set the beats aside and let herself cry.

In the past, rap has held as good the idea of self, of declaring one's dignity to those who don't respect you. But respect is a passé subject in today's rap, which belongs to the gangstas existing in a world of drive-by killings. The best gangstas philosophize profoundly about their destinies. L.L. Cool J, however, lives the good life. He woos well-dressed girls and drives California cars; he spins recognizable pop melodies. It was not surprising to find him expressing pride of self in terms of "doing the right thing" and "being a father to your kid" -- as if his audience were, like himself, quickly saying goodbye to their 20s and 30s. Unfortunately, the Superjam audience was mainly kids. To them, doing the right thing seemed to mean wearing the newest clothes and hairdos and using four-letter words freely. And why not? Using four-letter words was the grammar of the night's music; sporting schoolyard duds was its stage prop.

But schoolyard duds have lost their cool in the age of gangsta, and four-letter words hardly stop bullets. So the bookbag good times, raunchy pin-up poses, and girls-at-play gym games that dominated Superjam seem as bygone as a Doris Day movie or an Ozzie-and-Harriet portrait. Aaliyah was not wrong to cry about having to grow up amid those slow fat beats, which did their utmost to keep the hour hand on her life clock from spinning. And she wasn't wrong to want to be seven, since being 17 today means facing the gangsta life and the gangsta death. Neither was she wrong to adopt the drown-one's-demons voice of Michael Jackson, the voice that rules the world of new jack today. Because the demons are coming fast, and they're not going to leave much room for all the good times that concerts like Super Jam are trying to hold onto.

-- Michael Freedberg