9:44 p.m.: So we're outside waiting to be let in to the show. Apparently, when a PR person tells you in a few emails and a couple of text messages that your name is on the list and you're all good to go for the show, that really means your name is not on the list and you're not all good to go for the show. Fun, fun, fun. 10:09 p.m.: We've been inside for a few minutes. Checking out a few of the crowd members, we're suddenly inspired to start a TV show. It's going to called "You Seriously Thought It Was A Good Idea To Wear That Out?" and it's going to consist of us walking up to people, pointing out something ridiculous that they're wearing, and then saying "You seriously thought it was a good idea to wear that out?" That's it. It's going to be eight seconds long. Our first guest: the guy standing near us in an Ed Hardy sports jersey. 10:21 p.m.: Why do Rastafarians always have backpacks on? What could they possibly be carrying around? Incense? Six packs of Red Stripe? More locks of dingy hair? A huge tub of Patchouli? Somebody please find this out for us. [Ed. note: Any HPD drug-sniffing dogs on hand at the show would likely have solved this mystery straightaway.]
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10:31 p.m.: Houston's Guerilla Foco Clan is onstage. In case you couldn't tell by their abstract name, they're a white hip-hop group. One of the guys (Chess White, we think) is a good rapper. Not a "good white rapper," a good rapper in general, although he is wearing a wristband around his forearm. They have a song that samples the Beach Boys' "I Get Around," and it's way less knock-offy than you'd anticipate it being. Oh, and there's a big gorilla-ish thing on stage bouncing around. Lots going on right now. 10:48 p.m.: A one-size-too-big faded Blue Man Group tour T-shirt? You seriously thought it was a good idea to wear that out? 10:53 p.m.: It seems the crowd is pretty well set for the night. It's largely young white kids. Somehow, this is not surprising. 11:01 p.m.: The restroom at Warehouse Live has five stalls. When we walk in, we're initially excited to see that only two of them are occupied, however our brain eventually computes that there's no way we can pick an unused stall without lining up right next to someone; if we're counting from left to right, the first and the fourth one are being used, so it looks like this: X | O | O | X | O. It's sophomoric and completely inane, but we start running through this long list of reasons in our head about which guy we should stand next to so as to appear the least homosexual. We take into account factors like age (one guy is old, the other young), race (one black, one white), height (one short, one taller) and general demeanor (looking at the back of their heads, they both appear polite). We decide to saddle up next to the short guy, and then it hits us: We just stood here and watched two guys pee for about 20 seconds when there were plenty of empty stalls. That probably looks way more gay then just peeing next to someone (which really isn't gay at all). Our trepidation and diligence in appearing super-hetero has ultimately betrayed us. Dammit. Irony is a bitch sometimes. 11:10 p.m.: We're watching a guy in a sleeveless shirt try to flirt with a girl. Wonder what they're talking about. Maybe she saw where the rest of his shirt went. (We're guessing it's in a trash can, right next to a few Lone Star empties and his common sense.) 11:15 p.m.: Somehow, we've made it all the way until now before any Houston rap is played. Nice little three-song set consisting of Bun's "Draped Up," Lil' Keke's "Southside" and Yungstar's "Knockin' Pictures Off The Wall." 11:19 p.m.: Man, if you're fat enough, every shirt is a slim-fit shirt. 11:30 p.m.: Fat Tony's been on stage for a minute. Good stuff. He just said "I need y'all muthafuckas like a nigga need his dick." We want so badly to be able to say cool stuff like that. 11:37 p.m.: While Tony's performing that track from his mixtape that's laid over Busta Rhymes' "Gimme Some More," B L A C K I E wanders out on stage. "Wanders" is the only way to describe how he comes out. It looks like he's humming or something. He's utterly nonplussed by the hundred or so people packed in at the stage. He might as well be walking into the dry-cleaners. At any rate, B L A C K I E's out there for maybe seven seconds before he dives off the stage into the crowd, where he remains as he performs his verse. Afterwards, he's placed back on stage by the crowd and calmly walks into the back. B L A C K I E is Paul Newman In Cool Hand Luke cool. 12:01 a.m.: A short jean skirt with a black cargo pocket? You seriously thought it was a good idea to wear that out? 12:33 a.m.: We've finally got some Odd Squad/Coughee Brothaz guys on stage. It's fun, but you can't help but feel like this all should've happened about an hour earlier. Do rock concerts have as many opening acts/filler moments as rap ones? We might have to switch music genres to one that's a little more considerate of our time. 12:37 a.m.: Man, Jugg Mugg (Odd Squad) absolutely destroys that "Jugganott" song. For a group that's mostly identified as being potheads, their show is very energetic. 12:43 p.m.: After three hours of having pretty much every act has offering the "Are you ready for Devin?" tease, he's made his way out. We want to be mad at him, but he's just so damn likeable. He's a lot taller than we were expecting too. That helps, somehow. 12:56 a.m.: Devin effortlessly purrs through a few of his songs ("Lacville '79" is the evening's best). He is unquestionably one of Houston's finest MCs, and probably works on his craft more fervently than anyone outside of his inner circle will ever know, a fact made all the more abundant by his far too short set. He is a hip-hop genius, but after standing around for a few hours - some people got here before 9 p.m. - the payoff just doesn't balance out. This felt more like a showcase for Guerilla Foco Clan and Fat Tony that featured a guest appearance from Devin and the Coughee Brothaz than vice versa.