Was recently in NYC and had the pleasure of seeing Das Racist on their home turf. Better still, El-P was on hand, in the wings for most of the show, and then on stage for a good chunk. As a longtime Jukkie and unapologetic backpacker this was a momentous occasion. My first show at the Bowery in about six years, and out stepped a legend from my past. I expected the crowd to roar. I thought they’d chant his name. Or at least some kind of knowing cock of the head, a raised chin in his direction. But no. The audience was cold. Dressed as they were in tight pants and T-shirts for (perfectly fine) bands like Black Keys and Peter Bjorn and John, as opposed the the ubiquitous three-eyed Hiero signs and J5 button logos of my youth, they had no idea who the fuck they were looking at.

Well, get acquainted, bitches: