There are few things more reassuring than traveling halfway around the world and discovering that some things from home have made it there: Dodgers gear, Raiders shirts, questionable haircuts, and a stranger who wants to share his weed with you despite your lungs having other plans.
Welcome to Mansfield Tavern in Brisbane, Australia, where Xzibit proved that three decades into his recording career, he can still sell out a 1,200-person venue on the other side of the fucking planet.
Mansfield Tavern is a tight little operation, although calling it a venue almost undersells the place. It’s more of a choose-your-own-adventure pub complex, with multiple rooms, multiple bars, enough big-ass TVs to keep an entire sports bar convention entertained, a slot machine room (they call them pokies in Australia) and some damned solid fish and chips. You could conceivably spend an entire evening here without ever making it to the show. You’d eat well, but you’d be missing the point.
The crowd was its own kind of time machine. Seeing Dodgers jackets and hats scattered through the room felt oddly comforting, like stumbling into a familiar neighborhood several thousand miles from home. A couple of Raiders shirts reinforced the feeling that, no matter where you are in the world, somebody is always prepared to represent West Coast sports (Raiders still count as a California team).
But, then there were the mullets.
Not just mullets, mind you. Mullets. The sort of aggressive, business-in-the-front-party-in-the-back architecture that could qualify for historical preservation. The kind that makes banjos start playing along a creek in the bayou. The kind belonging to a dude name Skeeter. They were sharing space with midriffs and durags, creating a visual collision of hip-hop eras that somehow made perfect sense. Hip hop has always had the power to bridge communities, and it was cool to see that over 7,000 miles from home. People came together to party, and party they did.
Side note, shoutout to the dreadlocked dude who wanted to smoke a joint with me. I appreciated the hospitality, mate. Truly. Unfortunately, my asthma has a strict no-smoking policy, and it turns out my lungs are significantly less interested in international cultural exchange than the rest of me. Nerd ass lungs.
Before Xzibit took the stage, DJ Fooni was already doing the work. The man absolutely killed it, spinning a set that bounced between the CLASSICS from the likes of OutKast, DMX, Khia, Nelly, Busta Rhymes, Mark Morrison, and Luniz. It wasn’t just a playlist, the man had skills on the turntable, mixing tracks, dropping effects, and getting the party STARTED.
Somehow, the room was PACKED just 20 minutes after doors. A testament to the security/ticketing teams. Openers have the daunting task of hyping up people who have rarely heard of them, and Fooni had the crowd going from the start.
Then DJ Flawless stepped on stage to handle double duty as Xzibit’s DJ and hype man, and lived up to his name. The latex gloves were a nice touch, considering his turntable work was goddamned surgical. He kept the energy where it needed to be, giving Xzibit the kind of foundation a veteran performer deserves.
And Xzibit? The man reminded everyone why he’s still here. The crowd was losing their shit from the first verse. I saw one woman who looked like a photo of when women went BONKERS for the Beatles at the height of Beatlemania. Straight Home Alone-style screaming.
He worked through classics like “Multiply” and “X,” delivering the kind of familiar material that had a room full of on lock. But this wasn’t some nostalgia act collecting a paycheck by dragging out the hits and calling it a night. He also brought out “Everywhere I Go,” from last year’s Kingmaker, and previewed material from next year’s Kingmaker 2.
Plenty of artists from hip-hop’s golden era can tour on the strength of what they did 25 or 30 years ago. There’s nothing wrong with that. Those records earned their place in the rotation and their touring mileage have made them journeymen in the entertainment trade, but there’s something more compelling about an artist who can fill a room with old favorites while still making a case for what’s coming next.
I first met Xzibit when I worked Rock the Bells in 2012. My impression then was… that he was cool as hell. Fourteen years later, I’m happy to report that absolutely nothing has changed.
That might sound like a small thing, but spending time around the music industry teaches you that being talented and being decent aren’t necessarily the same thing. Touring musicians deal with long days, demanding schedules, endless logistics and the sort of repetitive interactions that could make anyone impatient. Add a little fame to the equation, and some people start treating basic courtesy like an optional upgrade. I’m always asked about which artists and celebrities have treated me like shit (Fuck you, Tony Robbins) and who are cool (Taboo from Black Eyed Peas was so fucking KIND), and X is at the top of the list of good people doing great things.
Xzibit and DJ Flawless were gracious with the staff. They treated people well. And that shit means a lot.
It’s easy to be an asshole. It’s easy to forget the people working behind the scenes to make your show happen. It’s easy to assume that because your name is on the poster, everyone else is there to serve you. Choosing not to do that says something about a person, especially when nobody would blame you for being tired or wanting to get on with your night.
In Brisbane, Xzibit delivered the hits, introduced new material and reminded a packed room that his career started in the 90s, but has no expiration date. DJ Fooni set the table, DJ Flawless cooked up the set, and X delivered.