Too Short
By martin turenne
Publish Date: 16-Feb-2006
Too Short’s favourite-albums list is topped by the Bloodhound Gang’s Hooray for Boobies. Kevin Statham photo.
At Plush on Friday, February 10
Over the course of his 23-year career, Oakland native Too Short has acted as the prophet of hip-hop, his work consistently foretelling the form’s imminent trends. When he debuted in 1983 with Don’t Stop Rappin’, the man born Todd Shaw became rap’s first regional star, boasting sales in his home market to match any of New York’s biggest artists. While his narrative style was indebted to East Coast story?tellers like Run-DMC, Short Dog spoke to his local constituency, establishing the laconic G-funk style that would come to full fruition in the early 1990s with Snoop Dogg and Dr. Dre. Nearly 20 years later, after moving to Atlanta, Too Short played a role in the birth of another form, guesting on a single (Lil Jon & the Eastside Boyz’ “Bia Bia”) that turned crunk music into a nationwide phenomenon.
Like most musical pioneers, the Georgia-based rapper hasn’t profited as handsomely as he should have from his exploits. Apart from his intermittent major-label stints in the 1990s, Too Short has been relegated to the independent circuit, making his biggest mainstream impact not with his own albums, but with guest verses for people like Jay-Z and David Banner. Shaw’s latest longplayer, his 18th to date, is called Pimpin’ Incorporated; it sold just 12,000 copies in its first week earlier this year. Although it hasn’t done much since then, the record provides a pretext for his current tour, which brought him to Vancouver for a packed show last Friday.
Taking the stage just before 2 a.m., Short Dog nearly didn’t perform at all, not after some frustrated loogan tossed a water bottle at him, presumably to punish the rapper’s tardiness. Faced with the prospect of a lost paycheque, the 40-year-old legend finally relented, starting off with a few recent anthems (including a version of 2003’s Lil Jon– produced “Shake That Monkey”) before delving into his classic ’83–88 song book. Chief among those memorable old cuts was “Freaky Tales”, a serpentine account of his sexual exploits attached to the kind of steely musical latticework that the Neptunes would later call their own.
Never recognized for his intricate flows, Short Dog played the part of storyteller, not so much riding the instrumentals as taming them, boxing them in with his nasal, dismissive delivery. Relying heavily on the visual stimulus provided by his cast of topless female dancers— two of whom were on the payroll, the rest of whom were not—Shaw strolled through some songs, checked his watch, played a few more, and then departed, a few dollars closer to retirement.
The West Coast’s eldest statesman was preceded by a dozen rappers half his age, led by Vancouver’s Metaforezt, whose show consisted mostly of him rapping along to songs by deceased American MCs. Emotionz stepped up next, living up to his typically high standards with two uptempo cuts before ceding the stage to a motley crew of associates, the best of whom was Van City’s Stressed Street, an aboriginal duo whose copping of Southern rap
By martin turenne
Publish Date: 16-Feb-2006
Too Short’s favourite-albums list is topped by the Bloodhound Gang’s Hooray for Boobies. Kevin Statham photo.
At Plush on Friday, February 10
Over the course of his 23-year career, Oakland native Too Short has acted as the prophet of hip-hop, his work consistently foretelling the form’s imminent trends. When he debuted in 1983 with Don’t Stop Rappin’, the man born Todd Shaw became rap’s first regional star, boasting sales in his home market to match any of New York’s biggest artists. While his narrative style was indebted to East Coast story?tellers like Run-DMC, Short Dog spoke to his local constituency, establishing the laconic G-funk style that would come to full fruition in the early 1990s with Snoop Dogg and Dr. Dre. Nearly 20 years later, after moving to Atlanta, Too Short played a role in the birth of another form, guesting on a single (Lil Jon & the Eastside Boyz’ “Bia Bia”) that turned crunk music into a nationwide phenomenon.
Like most musical pioneers, the Georgia-based rapper hasn’t profited as handsomely as he should have from his exploits. Apart from his intermittent major-label stints in the 1990s, Too Short has been relegated to the independent circuit, making his biggest mainstream impact not with his own albums, but with guest verses for people like Jay-Z and David Banner. Shaw’s latest longplayer, his 18th to date, is called Pimpin’ Incorporated; it sold just 12,000 copies in its first week earlier this year. Although it hasn’t done much since then, the record provides a pretext for his current tour, which brought him to Vancouver for a packed show last Friday.
Taking the stage just before 2 a.m., Short Dog nearly didn’t perform at all, not after some frustrated loogan tossed a water bottle at him, presumably to punish the rapper’s tardiness. Faced with the prospect of a lost paycheque, the 40-year-old legend finally relented, starting off with a few recent anthems (including a version of 2003’s Lil Jon– produced “Shake That Monkey”) before delving into his classic ’83–88 song book. Chief among those memorable old cuts was “Freaky Tales”, a serpentine account of his sexual exploits attached to the kind of steely musical latticework that the Neptunes would later call their own.
Never recognized for his intricate flows, Short Dog played the part of storyteller, not so much riding the instrumentals as taming them, boxing them in with his nasal, dismissive delivery. Relying heavily on the visual stimulus provided by his cast of topless female dancers— two of whom were on the payroll, the rest of whom were not—Shaw strolled through some songs, checked his watch, played a few more, and then departed, a few dollars closer to retirement.
The West Coast’s eldest statesman was preceded by a dozen rappers half his age, led by Vancouver’s Metaforezt, whose show consisted mostly of him rapping along to songs by deceased American MCs. Emotionz stepped up next, living up to his typically high standards with two uptempo cuts before ceding the stage to a motley crew of associates, the best of whom was Van City’s Stressed Street, an aboriginal duo whose copping of Southern rap
