Part of what makes Mos Def a unique emcee is an easy charisma that defies hip-hop's gotta-be-grimy ethos. He dances, smiles, laughs and jokes more than is probably acceptable for an emcee from Brooklyn, which has produced the likes of the perpetually scowling Mash Out Posse, as well as rap's most famous drug dealers-turned-emcees, Jay-Z and Biggie Smalls. The man born Dante Smith also sings, and not in an Andre 3000 sort of rap-speak or with Bone Thugs and Harmony's shrill inflections, but with an earthy soul that could easily translate into a third career as a neo-soul artist (he's already a respected actor).
That multifaceted persona was on full display Friday night in a House of Blues show that harkened back to rap's formative years of man-and-microphone concert. When the emcee was the show and didn't need Cirque-like productions—pyrotechnics, hydraulics-laden cars bouncing across the stage, homies from the 'hood on stage serving hype men—to move the crowd.
Generally a natty dresser, Mos Def came on stage in all black, fist thrust skyward, reminiscent of Black Power sympathizers who raised gloved fists on the medal stand at the 1968 Mexico City Olympics. But the next two hours would be anything but somber, as Smith rapped and joked, joked and rapped, with some singing thrown in between.
Despite two outstanding, topical and socially conscious solo albums, Mos Def's catalog of chart-topping songs is limited. Not that you could tell by the frenetic lip-syncing. A bald white guy in a buttoned-up dress shirt in the front row so furiously mouthed every lyric, especially the night's most intricate verse—"You're fabricated like the word absurditive / I'm rockin' this from here to where the purges live / To Brooklyn where the merchants live / Next door to the murderers / And bourbon is an elder man's medicinal alternative"—that Mos had to give Fan Man dap, pointing the microphone his way and smiling. He's one of the few quote-unquote conscious emcees in an era of Robin Leach-like hip-hoppers—able to intelligently rap about the Taliban and not merely use it as a comparative tool, like T.I. ("I'm wild as the Taliban.")—who can generate such fanaticism.
Nor was Fan Man alone. The packed crowd's energy increased as Mos Def ran through his most buzzworthy song, "Ms. Fat Booty," his most critically acclaimed tune, "Umi Says," and "Definition," his seminal collaboration with Talib Kweli. The show's close was classic Mos Def, with him dropping the mike and shouting, "Sexual chocolate," a reference to the band in Coming to America. Then, as everyone began leaving, he grabbed a backstage microphone, re-emerged and performed for an additional 20 minutes. And the crowd cheered.