Living in limbo, keeping it real

ALL Slick Rick wants for Christmas is to be home with his family in New York. And next Christmas. And the next. And the next.

It’s a modest wish for a rapper, especially one known as a key figure in the ‘80s rise of glitzy hip-hop -- he of the spangled eye patch and the colorful, character-driven tales of such hits as the controversial “Treat Her Like a Prostitute” and his playful 1985 “La-Di-Da-Di” pairing with Doug E. Fresh, all cited as influences by figures including Eminem and Chris Rock. But with the Department of Homeland Security recently renewing a 13-year effort to have him deported to England (where he was born but has not lived since he was 10), his own home security is everything to him.

“How much can a person spend or eat or wear?” he says of his priorities. “We’re pretty simple, humble people and just want our little space.”

As such, it’s hard for him not to worry that this Christmas could be his last in the U.S. -- let alone whether his show Saturday at the Vine Street Lounge could be his last in Los Angeles. But he’s learned to put anger and anxiety about this aside. It’s something he’s been living with since a conviction and three-year prison stint stemming from shooting his cousin and a bystander following a dispute in 1990. His attitude also helped him through 17 more months of detention after immigration officials -- citing an old warrant that had never been enforced -- took him into custody when he and his wife disembarked in Miami from a 2002 cruise ship on which he’d performed concerts.

“That’s one day at a time,” he says. “Something’s out of your control, it’s out of your control. Sometimes you gotta look at things with computerized eyes.”

Rick, whose real name is Ricky Walters, thought that the fight was over three years ago when a New York judge ruled that the Florida arrest had violated his right to due process. But in September, the Second Circuit Court of Appeals in New York overturned that 2003 ruling and allowed the Department of Homeland Security, which now oversees immigration matters, to move the case to a more conservative Georgia appeals court that covers Florida. “If the case had been in Florida before, we probably would have been living in London the last three years,” says Mandy Araqones, Walters’ wife of nearly 10 years.

Their lawyers have asked them not to discuss details of the case at this time, but they are working to keep the case in New York, while figures including rap mogul Russell Simmons, Will Smith and comedian-actor Rock have rallied to Walters’ support.

Second on Slick Rick’s wish list is a home in hip-hop. Despite the support in his immigration case, he sees himself as an exile from that nation. Though he has continued performing, he believes that the rap record business has frozen out “mature” veterans (he’s 41) and has favored commercialism over community. He has not released a new album since 1999 and says he’s waiting it out until the climate is more receptive.

“Right now I’m working like a hobby,” he says. “The record companies are catering to the youth, put all the old-school cats on the shelf. It would defeat the purpose of making a great record if you can’t get it promoted.”

Meanwhile, he’s just living his life, raising two teenage kids, supervising two rental properties he owns in New York and performing when he can. And don’t expect Walters to address the deportation and music business frustrations in songs Saturday. Rather, he intends to use his time on stage as a vacation from all that.

“I don’t send any messages,” he says. “I just build an atmosphere of fun and nostalgia. People are nostalgic for old-school hip-hop. That’s why they ask for these shows. They request good time. You go to a club to let your hair down, not to work.”

weekend@latimes.com

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Slick Rick

Where: Vine Street Lounge, 1708 Vine St., Hollywood

When: 9 p.m. Saturday

Price: $20

Info: (323) 493-3988; www.vinestreetlounge.com