Recap: Snoop Dogg, Devin the Dude, and Redman and Method Man at the House of Blues

Before leaving my apartment last evening - following a weekend of Halloween hysteria and anticipating what’s sure to be a debauchery-packed Election Day - I was hardly psyched about reviewing Redman, Method Man, and Snoop Dogg at the House of Blues. But like several other Sunday night survivors, I successfully summoned the correct mood with a Red Bull and some chronic.

The beats only further stroked my vibe. If Houston marijuana advocate Devin the Dude didn’t make it clear what kind of night was in store with his unconventional opening set, then the Wonderland High School Tour DJ clarified things shortly before Method Man and Redman hit the stage. After spinning the first verse of Soulja Boy’s dance-tastic namesake anthem, he hit stop, then blasted it as the “worst song of all-time” before dropping a needle on some Geto Boys.

Though Meth and Red’s set hinged on some new material, the core of their effort was rooted in a sentiment that the latter offered after his partner kicked the mid-90s staple “Bring the Pain:” “Weren’t those some good years when those songs came out?” Yes, they were, and - even though dudes were admittedly exhausted - hip-hop’s blunt brothers served enough heavy throwback helpings to more than merely quell Wu-Tang and Def Squad aficionados.

The next episode sparked with Snoop fronting a band that came tighter than homeboy’s precision Dutch Masters. On the mic, the statesman pro of live rap performances proved that he was about as crazy as Biz Markie when getting into fly gangsta shit. Though his recent albums have been relatively well-received, the pride of Long Beach (along with associates Daz, Kurupt, and Rage) pulled nothing but the sweetest arrows from his quiver and showered the crowd with smash upon smash. He even killed a pair of covers - “Jump Around” by House of Pain and Tupac’s “Hail Mary” - both of which could be added to the latter’s list of sweetest joys beside revenge and getting pussy.

In moments of peaceful pandemonium, even the wait staff rhymed along; one food runner danced with a pizza pie hoisted high up in the air. Maybe they caught contact highs after heads heeded Snoop’s command to blaze more trees; either that or they linked up with Dorchester weed rapper DJ Slim, who self-respecting stoner MCs like Snoop and Devin tend to invite out when they visit Boston.

All things considered, the Dogg Pound delivered a legit hip-hop spectacle in every aspect - from the considerable amount of care-free puffing to the flocks of chickenhead groupies flashing tongue rings and cleavage to gain backstage access. There was even a fight, some requisite cop-bashing, and several tributes to fallen boom bap heroes. Most importantly, every artist had adequate juice to crack heads for hours. Even on a Sunday. And even on the night after Halloween. Kid Cudi can’t do that. 


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