The world of underground hip-hop is difficult for outsiders to fathom. Not only does it sound wilfully obtuse - underground rappers tend to have a thing about rapping wildly out of time with their sparse, atonal backings - but its exact purpose is open to question. It claims to stand in opposition to mainstream rap, a sub-genre interested not in money but in artistry. Yet no one could accuse commercially minded producers and rappers such as Tim "Timbaland" Mosely and Outkast of not pushing the sonic envelope. Their records sell because they sound futuristic and innovative.
Underground hip-hop certainly attracts a different audience to that of Missy Elliott or Jay-Z - 90% white, tonight's crowd would look more at home at an indie gig - but what precisely is it rebelling against?
Support act J-Zone offers one answer. In marked contrast to the standard hip-hop braggadocio, his witty lyrics are almost singularly concerned with failure: his car is clapped out, his gold jewellery is fake. Brooklyn-based headliners Dangermouse and Jemini are a more complex proposition. Their recent album, Ghetto Pop Life, has attracted acclaim from critics prepared to overlook the fact that they have named themselves after a cartoon character voiced by David Jason and Britain's nul-points Eurovision flops.
Their performance is curiously devoid of the arhythmic rapping and obtuse musical backgrounds favoured by their underground contemporaries. Instead, it boasts r'n'b influences, hooks, steamrolling beats and dextrous, intelligent rhymes that, on more than one occasion, lambast the situation in Iraq. This is underground hip-hop simply because it has yet to be recognised by the mainstream.
DM and Jemini are joined on stage for their entire set by a stocky white man in a flat cap. He turns out to be the gig's promoter. Incredibly, he has taken it upon himself to become a surrogate rapper for the evening. Even more incredibly, DM and Jemini have let him. Some aspects of underground hip-hop are still impossible for outsiders to fathom.
