Lexington was not ready for Busdriver.
When I say those words, I don’t mean them in a negative, “he was not prepared for the bullet that ripped through his skull,” sort of way — though that would do a halfway decent job describing the ferocity of a Busdriver show. No, what I mean is that there’s little, if anything, that can be done to prepare yourself for Busdriver.
It’s no exaggeration when I say that this show was the best that I’d been to in a long time. Busdriver’s superb showmanship was enough to solidify him in my mind as one of the best performers that I’d ever seen.
When he took the stage, there were only quick introductions of himself and Anti-MC, then he launched into a quick rap about himself and his birthday party hat. Other than that, I don’t remember a whole lot about what he played. He did “Casting Agents and Cowgirls” to thunderous applause, “Imaginary Places” was met with squeals of appeals from the ladies, and he through his rap from the Islands song, “Where There’s a Will There’s a Whalebone” at the end of a song I didn’t recognize.
What I do remember is Busdriver. His performance was so spirited that I’ll likely use it as a nearly-unattainable high water mark for any subsequent hip hop performances I attend.
The thing that struck me most about Busdriver’s performance was the an interesting dichotomy. He was always focused when delivering, like a poet or Shakespearean actor. But all the while, he was so into his performance that his body seemed to be acting on its own. At times, Busdriver’s upper half ducked and dodged so that he seemed to be engaged a heated boxing match. But mostly the wild side came from his left hand, which he would often raise and lower to follow the frequency of his flows. And as if he were aware of the Evil Dead-like nature of his left hand, he often held it behind his back until it was needed to grab his second microphone (which he nicknamed his “Sexy mic”).