Written by Noah Goodbaum | Photography by Philip Litevsky

There’s something about Method Man. Every rap fan knows it. There’s something about him that makes certain extra-scuzzy similes seem like they don’t belong in any rapper’s lyrics but his. Something about his charisma that allows him to insert his trademark flecks of grime into R&B jams and mainstream crossover attempts and still come off classy. Something that means he carries the essence of the 36 chambers with him even into the depths of Hollywood-sellout territory.

He’s worked with artists who seemed beneath his talent, who were outside the clique of those considered respectable by hip-hop heads, unconcerned with whether the purists co-signed his belief in the worth of working with people like Ashanti or Tyrese. Or Fred Durst– Fred fucking Durst; witness him in the video for the DJ Premier-produced “N 2 Gether Now”, where he and the insufferable, smirking Limp Bizkit frontman trade verses and engage in ludicrous special-effects chop-socky and pal around like two old friends. Listening to Meth’s blistering verses on that track, you can hear his self-belief, and his delight to be kickin’ it with his friend. And suddenly, it doesn’t matter that his partner on the track, whose band he’s shouting out right alongside his own, is an assclown for the ages. We’re with Meth, because he’s doing what he believes in and making it cool.

The gradual fall-away of the “making it cool” part has been the story of the last decade or so of Method Man’s career. Barring the playful Redman collabo album Blackout!, where he and the Funkdoktah displayed a chemistry so electric that their partnership continues to this day, most of his albums apart from his debut solo and his shit with the Clan seemed to have only one diehard fan: Meth himself. Recently he’s been bemoaning the decline of the grimy East Coast shit that was his bread and butter in his heyday, and become oddly surly and defensive, lashing out at cavalier critics and becoming an integral part of the “Bring New York Back!” contingent that inspires equal parts hope and headaches among different sorts of rap fans. He’s still been doing him and coming with the dope lyrics and the peerlessly smooth flow, but to some ears (not necessarily mine), it’s lacked a certain urgency, something to clarify why he still matters to the modern rap landscape.

Onstage that night of November 17th, 2007, none of that baggage seemed like much of a problem. He knew exactly why we were there, why it was that we all loved him, and he got us involved. His trademark irascibility was there, as he grumbled about the state of rap and angrily called out a lady-hitter in the audience. After treating us to the amazing “Bring The Pain” and one verse (only one!) of the immaculate “M.E.T.H.O.D. Man” (a song so good it seems pointless to even talk about), he humbly trotted out half-remembered songs from his less-beloved joints, stuff like “Say” and “The Motto”, and, bigging up his own work (”That was a good-ass album, yo!”), worked them in seamlessly. But mostly he was in party mode, just as we needed him to be, zooted off his ass and parading the stage like a mountain lion, four or five hypemen barely noticeable as he surveyed his domain. Over and over again he told us, “I need energy! You gotta have that energy!”, referring both to his own duty as a showman and to his expectations from us in the audience. And energy he gave us– performing an epic somersault into the crowd and at one point distributing 40 water bottles and trying to start the biggest water fight in Toronto history. “No one controls a stage like I do!”, he barked, and we all screamed like mad in affirmation of Meth’s own belief in Meth.

And that’s what this was about– Meth’s belief in himself, and our belief in him. Some rappers whose best work feels like it’s behind them show up for concerts, and the transparent sense of limp-dick nostalgia overwhelms everything else. Not so with Meth. He may never make a top-to-bottom fantastic album again, but it hardly matters. Somehow, even if his career’s at a slow boil rather than white-hot, even if he’s no longer one of the kings of the rap scene, he still cares, and he manages to make himself– his music, his persona, his humanity– worth it for us to care about, too.

Peep the rest of the shots right here.

I also found a really cool video Ge0rgey YouTubed.