Mainstream hip hop needs a kick in the ass, and the Rhymesayers are the crew to do it. By fusing impassioned, introspective lyrics with sparse, bass-heavy production, the Minneapolis indie hip-hop collective reveres the old-school aesthetic like nobody’s business.

Rhymesayer brethren Eyedea & Abilities reinvent, reinterpret and reintroduce the music they grew up on. Blaze Battle champion Eyedea and DMC Battle vet DJ Abilities have enough clout and skill to hold their own separately, but together, they collaborate for dynamic results that’d blow the speakers on your older brother’s boombox. Eyedea & Abilities’ love of the old (De La Soul, GangStarr) became apparent the minute they took control of the crowd at Philadelphia’s Trocadero.

The duo ran through a mix of tracks from its 2002 debut, First Born, as well as songs from its forthcoming release, E&A (Epitaph). The performance’s high point was a classics medley featuring gems by Nas, Organized Konfusion, A Tribe Called Quest, Wu-Tang Clan and Souls Of Mischief. Abilities’ seamless mix held the crowd’s attention while Eyedea earned his keep on the merits of his storytelling prowess (“I never knew my mom, once I was born she was dead/She never wanted me/At least that’s what my dad said”). The team completed its set by hyping the upcoming performance of fellow Rhymesayers Atmosphere.

While Eyedea & Abilities and Atmosphere share many of the same musical ideals, the two groups differ in their approach. Atmosphere rapper Slug has helmed a tidal wave of “emo-rap” media attention lately, mostly on the strength and accessibility of Seven’s Travels (Epitaph), his latest LP with turntablist Ant. Atmosphere’s emo tag may be a slick PR move to broaden the group’s fanbase (or, more likely, just another lazy media cliché), but the duo has enough real emotion and artistic integrity to exceed expectation.

As Slug and Ant plowed through such crowd pleasers as “Good Loves Ugly,” “Fuck You Lucy” and current single “Trying To Find A Balance,” you could practically see the vitriol flying across the room. Slug’s energy was infectious: He ran laps around the turntables while Ant spun, his face mysteriously shrouded by a gray bandanna. Slug even stopped the party to go on a tangential, two-minute rant about the evils of cocaine. The show was tailor-made for fans who appreciate hip hop as art. There was no booty dancing, no fancy lights, no gimmicks, just hip hop as it’s supposed to be: revered, personal and sometimes emotional. But definitely not emo.