April 15, 2004
Phat Fitty
CALGARY -- It could go either way, I suppose. You take nine bullets while standing on a street corner -- minding your own business, naturally -- and survive to tell the tale, one of two things could happen. You could go from town-to-town preaching to everyone, from politicians to school children, about the need for stronger gun legislation. Or you could use the story to bolster your street cred, rap about it, sell millions of albums, and go from town- to-town glorifying the gangsta lifestyle. From the moment he took the Saddledome stage last night -- a half-hour late, which in hip hop terms is actually an hour early -- it was obvious the path 50 Cent has chosen. With a show that had enough gratuitous gunshot sound effects in it to make even the most stable and well-adjusted war veteran flashback and dive for cover, the 27-year-old rap star, born Curtis Jackson, gave 6,000 or so of the city's hip hop faithful a big bite of the wormy side of the Big Apple.

Joined by his crew G Unit, 50 Cent emptied his arsenal of hits from his massive debut, Get Rich or Die Tryin' -- tracks such as P.I.M.P., In Da Club and High All the Time -- while also dipping into the G Unit stock for tracks from their latest release, Beg For Mercy.

Musically, despite some turntable troubles early on, they actually sounded pretty damn loud. And pretty damn good.

50 certainly isn't the most gifted or unique rapper out there, but outside the studio his mic skills more than stack up.

As far as stage shows go, it was an incredibly minimal offering with the three G Unit-eers filling the bare stage with the typical posturing you'd expect from a hard-core hip hop show -- the arm waving, the crotch grabbing, the pot smoking, etc.

Still, it's hard to deny 50 Cent's impressive and larger-than-life stage presence.

Decked out in a rather non-descript tank top and jeans, he literally owned the stage, commanding attention and respect.

The kind of respect you're likely to give someone who's survived nine bullets, no matter what they choose to turn that experience into.

Opening the night was a DAT machine with some butt-wigglin' dancers, a turntablist, a highly excitable MC, and a young woman lip-synching atrociously.

The entire experience left me sad and confused.

Toronto's Kardinal Offishall faired considerably better with his set, a monumentally energetic hip hop display.

Stylistically, there isn't a great deal to set him apart from other rappers -- including his slight reggae tendancies. Nonetheless, he turned in an entertaining 20 minutes.

Despite the fact he only rapped for a total of three minutes during his 45 minutes, Mississippi's David Banner was even more entertaining.

Whether it was dousing himself and all those around him in whatever beverage was handy, doing flips, or wading through the crowd, slapping hands and bringing the whitest, most rhythmically challenged youngster in Calgary back on stage with him to dance, the perpetual motion machine showed himself a natural showman who was a lot of fun to watch.