Black Star at Mezzanine: A Night of Nostalgia and Unscripted Energy

Black Star—Mos Def (now Yasiin Bey) and Talib Kweli—descended on San Francisco’s Mezzanine, bringing with them the weight of a legacy that has outlived trends and industry shifts. For a group that’s only released one official album over two decades ago, their ability to command a room is undeniable. Their self-titled record is cemented as a hip-hop classic, and while rumors of a reunion album have swirled for years, nothing has materialized. That made this show a rare and sacred experience for fans—many of whom were mere kids when Black Star first dropped.

The night’s openers, a mix of DJs and emcees, did their best to warm up the crowd. Pep Love of Hieroglyphics delivered a standout set, blending solo work with classic Hiero joints that sent ripples of excitement through the room. But as the night wore on, the warm-up started to drag, shifting from anticipation to impatience. Was Black Star even in the building? Restless feet shuffled. Heads turned toward the entrance.

Then, at 11:45 p.m., the energy in the room snapped. The DJ took his place behind a stripped-down setup. The lights dropped. The crowd tensed. And finally, they walked out—not with hype-man theatrics, but with the effortless cool of artists who know their worth. They weren’t late; they were exactly on time.

The Kinks’ A Well Respected Man hummed through the speakers, an ironic nod to their own status in hip-hop. Then, without missing a beat, the unmistakable opening to Thieves in the Night hit, and hands shot up like reflexes.

From the jump, the energy was high, Bay Area love in full effect. Yasiin’s voice, slightly worn from the night before, smoothed out as the set progressed. By the time they launched into Definition, the crowd was fully locked in, the duo weaving bars with precision, their chemistry as electric as ever.

Transitions were tight, no wasted moments. At one point, they went fully unplugged—just beats, breath, and bars—delivering a freestyle that felt more like a cipher among friends than a stage performance. The pace was relentless, the kind of raw, unscripted artistry that made Black Star essential in an era when hip-hop was drowning in gloss and radio edits.

Sure, there were minor slips—verses tangled in the speed of double-time flows—but their veteran instincts turned missteps into moments, reworking fumbles into flourishes.

The encore brought Yasiin’s Umi Says, a moment of spiritual weight, followed by Kweli’s anthemic Get By. And just when the crowd thought it was over, Yasiin, ever the performer, took the stage alone, body moving to the sounds of The Tony Williams Lifetime, dancing his way into the shadows.

For those still clinging to the hope of a new Black Star album, this show was both a reminder and a tease—a glimpse of a duo whose magic remains intact, whether or not they ever hit the studio again.