Eyedea & Abilities
w/Blueprint, Grayskul

Wed April 14, Chop Suey, 8 pm, $12.

I knew shit had gone topsy-turvy when a couple of Caucasians from Minnesota put on one of the best live hiphop performances I'd ever seen. Damn if Eyedea & Abilities didn't steal the show from the much more hyped Atmosphere at the Showbox February 3--and Atmosphere were killing it that night, too.

I guess it shouldn't be that surprising Eyedea & Abilities astounded this veteran of countless lame hiphop gigs. After all, MC Eyedea's shelves groan with trophies from the Scribble, HBO Blaze, and Rocksteady competitions, while DJ Abilities nabbed a couple of DMC regional championships. Not that these victories always translate into great records, but in the case of the new E&A (Rhymesayers/Epitaph), the duo's seasoned battle skills produce compulsively listenable tracks that dazzle verbally and aurally. Eyedea & Abilities are the Shaq and Kobe of underground hiphop--except they're white and on good terms.

While Eyedea sometimes sounds cornier than Eminem in Nebraska, dude has a silo-full of clever putdowns he delivers with mercurial acuity and more emo power than the entire Saddle Creek roster (e.g., "What you call spittin' looks more like involuntary droolin'," from "Kept"). He balances boasting and insightfulness with impeccable timing and a well-hung vocabulary. And on "Paradise," Eyedea even brings some R&B, uh, singing, emoting with aching sentimentality, "We rediscovered the long-lost art of dying/Only the lonely resent angels for flying/Twisted, livin' off each other's sickness like parasites/This is paradise."

Abilities also rises to the occasion on E&A. He keeps your noggin noddin' while spicing up tracks with all sorts of odd, warped instrumentation and dexterous scratches (the ones in "Now" morph into a psychedelic wah-wah guitar riff, while in "Star Destroyer" they emulate Moog synthesizer squeals). Abilities also excels at inserting film dialog into the intros and outros of many tracks. On "Two Men and a Lady," he even manages to inject sonic Viagra into that limp practice of sampling porn-flick groans and chatter. Melding off-kilter funk beats with elastic jazz bass lines and effusive piano motifs, Abilities renovates old-school production with impulsive verve. This ain't your father's backpack rap.

segal@thestranger.com