Andrew Means, Arizona Republic (12th February 1987)
Every time someone breaks the mold, it comes as a surprise. Who would have thought two years ago, when the Beastie Boys were booed off stages across America, that here was the future of rock 'n' roll?
What then was perceived as their handicap - the fact that they were smart-aleck white boys performing in a hitherto black genre - turned out to be the key to success. Like Run-DMC, the Beasties have found a crossover formula that blends the concussive rhythm and immediacy of rap with elements of hard rock.
In desegregating rap, the Beasties are doing what generations of young whites before have done to black music — dropping the racial and political messages and leaving the partying lines and musical structure.
Rap, in this form, is now so mainstream that even in sun-sani-tized Phoenix, the Beasties can fill a moderate-sized facility with ardent fans. And I mean ardent. These people not only could writhe in time to the tempo, they could chant with the lyrics. Memorizing a Beastie rap is something in itself.
Even though the trio was larger than life, the set left one wondering just how much staying power they have. I don't want to say once you've heard one rap you've heard them all, but let's face it, this is a style with fairly clear limitations.
The woman dancing in black lingerie in the cage at center stage might be good for a few tours, but watching the Beasties - King Ad-Rock, MCA and Mike D plus their offstage disc jockeys - is surely going to grow old. Especially if members of the facility staff keep slipping in the mess that's created, as happened this time.
Before the Beasties' set, inciden-tally, their crate of beer was carried on and offstage and then on again, the visible signs of a backstage struggle between theater management and the group. The beer was allowed to stay, apparently after the trio protested that it was an essential prop and was not for drinking but rather for spraying.
Fishbone seems like a better bet for longevity. Borrowing freely from several styles - rock, rap, ska and so on - this Los Angeles sextet are musically interesting and unre-strained. With so much rock being predictable these days, there was obvious appeal in the immediacy of all three acts on this bill.
A New York punk band, Mur-phy's Law, opened the show, almost matching Fishbone in the frenzied energy put into performing. It was nice to hear a couple of golden oldies, such as the Monkees' (I'm Not Your) Steppin' Stone and the Troggs' Wild Thing - which the group had adapted, changing the line "you make my heart sing" to include a part of the anatomy that is usually not so publicly serenaded.
Whether the Beasties' success is the sales job of the year or a genuine surge of popular acclaim, they certainly have helped create a broad audience for rap. Although the age range was narrow, mostly late teens and early 20s, the audience was an ethnic and sexual melting pot.
Only when the trio ended their relatively brief set (not much more than 45 minutes) with Fight For Your Right (To Party) was there any sign of the party getting out of hand offstage. But the show ended before it could get serious.