Raekwon seems weary of a changing world

There was a certain sadness in the air when Raekwon the Chef performed Wednesday night at the Key Club in West Hollywood.

Unlike his zany and energetic cohorts Ghostface Killah or Method Man, Raekwon has always functioned with a sense of melancholy. His 1995 debut, “Only Built 4 Cuban Linx,” also fondly known as “The Purple Tape,” is considered by many a hip-hop masterpiece and established the chubby lyricist as one of the most popular members of Wu-Tang Clan, the New York hip-hop collective. Its poetic lyrics depicted a gloomy and sinister world of drug deals and stick-ups, sprinkled with esoteric interludes from blaxploitation films and kung fu flicks.

On Wednesday he treated hard-core fans to some of the album’s more obscure cuts, the darkly hypnotic “Incarcerated Scarfaces” and the introspective “Heaven and Hell.”

During his performance, Raekwon, who was born Corey Woods in 1970, seemed like an aging rapper trying to make sense of a crazed world, where death was the leitmotif. With the utmost sincerity, he sent his condolences to the people involved in the Virginia Tech massacre. “What’s going on in the world?” he asked mournfully. Earlier, he had the crowd hold up lighters in memory of Ol’ Dirty Bastard before launching into a medley of the deceased rapper’s hits.

The crowd hungered for the high-energy Wu-Tang classics like “Protect Ya Neck” and “Da Mystery of Chessboxin’,” and Raekwon delivered. But he seemed to be going through the motions wearily. Wearing a simple Adidas track jacket and a satin gunmetal Dodgers baseball cap, Raekwon ran through the standards. His signature hits, “C.R.E.A.M.” and “Can It Be So Simple,” were some of the most somber, yet brilliant, tunes in the Wu-Tang repertoire.

When Raekwon asked the audience, “Where my Mexicanos at?,” the predominantly Latino crowd roared. He told them he was “honored” to be performing in L.A., especially because he signed with Aftermath Records for a forthcoming album to be produced by Dr. Dre and RZA.

Throughout the night, Raekwon eulogized what he termed “real hip-hop.” To give the audience a taste of what he was talking about, he asked DJ Thoro to “give ‘em my autobiography.” The selector made quick work of the most memorable cuts of 1988, a critical year in hip-hop’s “Golden Era” (depending on whom you ask), spinning snippets of Big Daddy Kane’s “Ain’t No Half Steppin’,” Schoolly D’s “P.S.K.” and Slick Rick’s “Children’s Story,” among others.

As the night wound down, Raekwon beseeched concertgoers to be safe and stick together, sounding more like a concerned father than an underground legend.