Jay-Z Charlottesville show more a celebration of hip-hop

At this stage in the game, a Jay-Z concert is less of show, really, than a celebration of culture and the Jay-Z brand. With Eminem in hiding and other household rap names either dead or just no longer fresh, Jay-Z is as an icon of survival and the American rags-to-riches story; he's a symbol of aspiration and the embodiment of the mores of a whole generation.

So of course, his Charlottesville show on Satur day was not really a show, but an event. As opening act Santogold - a dub-reggae-punk artist who was a slightly odd but fabulous pairing for this show - was wailing right on time at 8 p.m., lines of biblical proportions were still outside. By the time the Atlanta rapper T.I. - now reinventing himself as a redeemed thug - went on stage at the John Paul Jones Arena on the campus of University of Virginia, there wasn't an empty seat in the place, and the masses went into a frenzy during his performance.

Interludes between performances were nearly as entertaining as the performances themselves. Concerts present fantastic opportunities for people watching. But at a hip-hop show - and specifically by one who ran a major record label (Def Jam), a fashion empire (Rocawear) and famous nightclubs (40/40), starts entire trends with a drop of a phrase and is married to the hottest woman in R&B (Beyonce) - takes people-watching to thrilling extremes. Young, old, preppie, gangsta, fashionista, WASP, supermodel: you name it, they were there and, their clothing, shoes, jewelry, hair and so on elevate attention-grabbing (or, "flossing" and "stunting" as the kids call it) to an art, a religion.

Jay-Z, known as a consummate professional, started right on time. As he sung "Blue Magic," his song off his compl ement album to the film "American Gangster," a montage played behind him. The lyrics of the song portray the hood gangster as reaction to social policy; as he sung "Blame Reagan for turning me into a monster/blame Oliver North and Iran-Contra," images of Reagan and the North hearings flashed behind him, juxtaposed against Africans starving and victims of Hurricane Katrina. The current president's mug came just as the song invites people to say a word that can't be printed here, and Jay-Z asked us to say that about Bush again.

It was the first of a few political diatribes the rapper would mount. "Are we ready for change?" he said, as an American flag billowed on the screen; the rapper's face flickered in red and blue, like he was in 3-D. He urged us to vote. "Rosa sat so Martin could walk, and Martin walked so Obama could run," he said.

An onslaught on hits followed. With the exception of the hip-hop band The Roots, Jay-Z may be the only rapper to have a live band with congas, full horns, drums and so on, backing him. They looked pristine in white collared shirts and black vests and they make the music penetrate, sound alive. Celebrity disc jockey DJ AM, who just survived a gruesome plane crash with former Blink-182 drummer Travis Barker, cued tracks on a silver Mac, including "I Just Wanna Love You," "Can I Live," "Dirt off Your Shoulder," and tons more. He did a version of Lil' Wayne's "A Milli," and brought out buddy Memphis Bleek for a few songs, including "Is That Your Chick." The show really had no dip in excitement, and you began to wonder how or if it would ever end.

While Jay-Z's ability to engage his crowd is unparalleled - his music is rare in its ability to unify hip-hop purists, those simply seeking to dance and those trying to channel their inner bad boy - there was the sense he wasn't giving this show his all. This is work for him, it appeared, part joy, yes, but the legwork required to run an empire. This show was one of the first as part of his well-publicized recent $150 million deal with Live Nation, which sounds great until you actually have to tour the entire country.

During his encore, he simply flipped through AM's laptop, playing second-long snippets of hits, saying, "Y'all ain't ready for that." Another song would play, for seconds. "You already heard that." New song. "Y'all ain't' ready for that. I got hundred of hits." Another song. "Y'all can't handle that."

You got the feeling that if he could have outsourced it, he would have. Appearances from his trinity of frequent Virginia collaborators, Missy, Timbaland and the Neptunes, would have been mind-blowing. But that is not to say Jay-Z phoned in the performance, by any means. It was a terrific show, and Jay articulated his gratitude and appreciation at the end. He finished with "Encore," then he left, having not even broken a sweat.

Malcolm Venable, (757) 446-2662, malcolm.venable@pilotonline.com