For anyone that pulled up to or walked past the Canopy Club this past Saturday, the mild summer weather was most likely broken by the abnormally long line that stretched from the Canopy to the front door of the University of Illinois' music building.

A mumbling swarm of rabid hip-hop fans descended from towns around Champaign-Urbana, and even as far as St. Louis, to watch the Canopy Club play host to a hip-hop bill that had landed on the cornfields, and left just as big of an impact.

Two New York’s infamous five boroughs (Queens and The Bronx), well-known for producing some of hip-hop’s hall of fame artists, are getting ready to let loose two of their finest into the wild of their Illinois fan base. On Saturday, September 30, the Canopy Club will play host to one of the biggest hip-hop big ticket bills in recent memory, as Nas and Talib Kweli make their way into Champaign-Urbana.

Independently, these two artists account for some of the most critically acclaimed albums and lyrical works of modern hip-hop. Kweli, as part of the original lineup on Rawkus Records, was part of several pivotal hip-hop groups, including Reflection Eternal with DJ Hi-Tek, and Black Star with Brooklyn-native Mos Def. Since premiering with underground hip-hop hall of famers Mood in 1997, Kweli’s blunt-edged, conscious, black empowerment brand of hip-hop, combined with a sentence-cramming delivery have played into some of the most notable hip-hop tunes, translating into both underground and commercial appeal.

All right, kids. First and foremost, congratulations are in order. You have successfully navigated your relative high school’s snares of comfort, survived a mild summer, and now find yourself someplace you might consider “nowhere.” After embracing your parents one last time, perhaps breathing a sigh of relief while doing so, and unpacking the elements of your collegiate life from boxes and impact plastic, you have officially taken the first step into being a collegiate.

“I knew for sure I wanted to be a part of DJ culture after seeing what DJ Premier was doing with it,” Boskey says. “An issue of Rap Pages magazine in 1996 pretty much cemented things.”

Most underground hip-hop heads have been asked the question: “What I should listen to?” Even on a steady path of slinging burned CDs, hours spent on Wikipedia, and a slew of names you might not remember, you still may not be able to grasp the “classics” of indie hip-hop. Leading you back to the start — dejected in your Nike Dunks — unable to lay claim to your bragging rights.

So what becomes of the budding backpacker? Somewhat knowledgeable, but unable to find some of the records his or her friends talk so much about. Any indie music scene can prove to be hard to get into, namely because of the constant come-and-go passing of styles, names, and movements within it.

After sitting down to a round table discussion amongst cousins who first introduced me to decent hip-hop, we managed to hewn an agreeable list of tasty sounds that will get you started.

Crate diggers in training, grab your headphones, and away we go.

As America slugged down their first cups of coffee, and had their morning debates concerning Ralph Nader’s recent statement about Barack Obama’s campaign stances, I found myself doing much the same, but with a nice trip down amnesia lane while I was at it.

There’s no doubt Ralph Nader has a sound mind for this country. The five-time presidential nominee for the Green Party, [ed. as an Independent and a write-in candidate] has shown those who would listen (and a host of others that should have), a different painted picture of what this country honestly needs.

However, the wise words and messages of concern become somewhat dull in the face of two simple, pointed words Nader accused Obama of to a Colorado newspaper : “talking white.”

“Sometimes I feel like hip-hop has me runnin’ in place.”

True. But, the ability to move minds and bodies keeps you from standing still for too long.

I admit: as one of the fresh-faced youth that came to Champaign-Urbana in 2002, and having been exposed to the hip-hop scene here for the lot of my college career (5.5 years and going strong!), I can say that the way Text describes his passion could be readily applied to hip-hop heads in this town. But, with a very hopeful outcome, if the current trend of albums and releases continue.

If you haven’t come across the Broke Rappers Coalition, or BRC, then you may want to stand in their path for a little while, if for nothing else but to catch Text performing. His most recent release, Jameson Dreams, is anything but a drunken romp through 13 tracks. Text weaves a web that dodges between full-on rhythmic confessional, to lyrical onslaught with several of his BRC brethren.

Alright kids, time to do some soul searching, and perhaps some well-needed crate digging.

French producer Onra is a mysterious individual, to say the least. In the greater league of vinyl jockeys and drum machine addicts – suffering through the leagues of paper cuts and musty basements – he came as a relative unknown, only having released albums as collaboration efforts alongside other relatively unknown French hip-hop producers (Quetzal, Fonky Family).

That is, until one of his releases landed stateside.

In the course of his first solo venture, Chinoiseries, Onra conjures the ghosts of the greats, as if he had been producing alongside them in their prime.

Thirty-five years ago, something big started.

With the critical, overflowing mass of disenfranchised people packing themselves into already overcrowded neighborhoods, something had to give. The outcry was deafening, but no one listened. It was too dangerous of a call for help to heed. Individuals were too deep in the measures of suffering that was created for them.

That is, until we learned to speak through the synthesized drum, 16-bar verse, and party-rocking with a message. In an unseen explosion of samba-infused, fat laced, four-finger ringed, record scratching, shell-toed fury, hip-hop broke out as a answer to America’s question of what occurred in the South Bronx and Queensbridge.

Thirty-five years later, the big thing that got started only made itself bigger. But, is big always good?