Prof Outdoors

Sometimes you come across a review of a live music event and in reading it, just wish you could rewind time and go there to experience it yourself. Other times, you read that article and wonder just what business the author had in being there in the first place. I’m not sure where Frank’s “TheOld Man and the Sea of Gampos” falls. I’m pretty sure where mine is going to fall, though!

Let me start off by ribbing my friends and once-upon-a-time concert buddies: we knew about this Prof Outdoors show since the day it was announced, I had ordered meet & greet tickets the minute they went on sale. We had weeks of warning. So why is it that when something like this comes along, I’m driving solo to the cities and scraping by to sell my remaining tickets?

Now, back to my general audience, who may feel a bit uninitiated with the lingo flying around here. See, Prof is a Minneapolis hip hop artist and rapper who has climbed the ranks of the underground and fashioned a coast-to-coast fan base right in the intersecting loop of the Tech N9ne/Atmosphere Venn Diagram. This show, a 7 hour outdoor end of summer festival at the Cabooze in downtown Minneapolis, sold out to 4,000 Gampos as a testament to his flair, likability, and showmanship.

Oh, by the way, a “Gampo” is Prof’s fan, synonymous to Deadheads or Maggots (Slipknot’s fans; if I have to tell you what Deadheads are you should just stop breathing right now). The OG Gampo was quite a character, legend tells, a paragon of the not giving a fuck, party boy at the expense of society attitude.

Nomenclature and vernacular out of the way, let’s get to the show, and the trials and tribulations found within.

Frank and I hitched a ride to the venue and hopped into the shortest line labeled “Hard tickets” (Protip: Will Call tickets are hard to sell, since they’ll need to be with the person whose name is on the tickets at the booth. Never buy Will Call). We get through painlessly and instantly hop into line for the Meet & Greet. I regret to learn that St. Paul Slim is playing the first set, and I could only hear it while in line. However, I was instead treated to the fangirl mannerisms of a trio of young girls in line ahead of us, obviously excited to see the man of the day.

I contemplated quoting Meghan’s Law, a la “I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell”, but I wanted to actually stick around and enjoy the show, so I avoided any behavior that might introduce me to Minneapolis’ Finest.

The front of the M&G line is where it gets interesting: the trio of girls get told that they needed a yellow wristband for the M&G. Frank and I didn’t have one, either. Turns out, there was a separate line for M&G ticketholders and a 15 minute episode of ineptitude by event staff ensued. After failing to persuade the folks at the gate that yes, this receipt in my email right here is a legitimate receipt for tickets and it says right here “Meet & Greet”, this big bearded biker guy asked my name and immediately said “Yup, I saw their tickets, give them wristbands.” I tried to by my new pal a beer but he would not accept. Thanks, doesn’t-put-up-with-bullshit-from-coworkers dude, this Bud’s for you!

So yeah, met Prof and Fundo for the 5^th or 6^th time, Frank’s first. Go to grab some beers (nobody laughed when I replied to the $5 can of PBR by saying “Someone in Seattle is crying into his beard and scarf right now”) and meet up with the rest of our arriving friends. Eat some high school cafeteria food for $10 a plate. Chit chat with the myriad interesting people there. Feel old.

Yup, I was definitely among the oldest of people there, older than most if not all the performers. When I was in the crowd to finally watch Prof, I kept my hands held up lest some young girl tries to say I grabbed her or something. It was quite uncomfortable.

It was like being a chaperon at any of my future children’s high school dances.

Prof’s set was amazing, as usual. Picture this: the stage is decorated with taxidermy in a way that only Minnesota would allow. Four thousand people appeared out of nowhere and the previously manageable crowd suddenly turned to a sea of people. The 80-degree sun had set, alcohol coursed through bloodstreams, second winds were found by everybody who had already been dancing and jumping around to the opening acts.

The beat of a previously unheard song greets the crowd, and those that can hear it over the roar of appreciation might have been confused, but once that bass hits and Prof spits his first words, any unfamiliarity is replaced by a Gampo’s trust in their master and commander. People jumped. Waved arms in the air. Juggled many beach balls over our heads and upheld a giant hamster ball, St. Paul Slim at the center, trying to keep his balance, failing. Fights broke out, 3^rd base was reached by some of the couples there (including one ahead of me, which again evoked that creepy voyeuristic uncomfortable sensation until I moved around them. Prof had guests on stage, from Slim for Everybody Down into Horses in the Ghetto, and ShaLa for James Bond Blimp. It was everything a Prof show should be, even though at smaller venues there’s a bit more intimacy between the Gampos and their god.

The encore-demanding crowd was instead greeted with a wave of disperse orders from the local popo, leaving a pretty weak closing song that even Prof would later apologize for. Curfews are curfews, and being at an all-ages show means respecting them. We missed “Yeah Buddy”, his go-to closer party song that nobody holds back for. Next time, maybe.

Will there be a next time? I’m getting old, turning 30, which is ancient to the populace of kids who couldn’t yet wear an alcohol-granting wristband. Four thousand people in an outdoor lot was such a removal from the main act that I almost felt cheated.

I’m sure I’ll continue to see Prof in Bemidji or Duluth, smaller venues, where “Meet & Greet” means more than “Hey, now pose for the pictures, now get the hell outta here” (though, to be fair, I did get to give Fundo a piggy-back ride at this show…). But these large shows require a different sort of energy, maybe one provided by Red Bull-mixed drinks and not just light beer, or maybe one found in 20 year olds and not 30 year olds. I’m glad I got to see him in his hometown, but Prof might just be something I can only enjoy in small doses.

I certainly hope he continues to get popular though, so to help do that, I encourage everyone to go to profstophouse.bandcamp.com where you can download all of his stuff for free (maybe one album needs money, but you can safely skip Project Gampo). Bump it, enjoy some more Minnesota music in a vein that Atmosphere doesn't quite touch. And try to see him next time he’s at someplace like Clyde Ironworks or Pizza Lucé.