Whither hip hop? Since it's still relatively young, a better question might be: When will it become as redundant as rock? I think it already has, and not because, musically at least, hip hop is by definition a pastiche, but because thematically it's stuck in a rut.

MCs have been obsessed with "hard and real" since the late '80s, an understandable development considering the environment that gave rise to rap. Few rappers, however, seem willing to break out of the tight emotional corner that hip hop has wedged itself into. Every major artist spouts an agenda that is reflexively cynical, whether it's tied to dark spirituality (Wu-Tang Clan), psychosis (DMX), discredited but by no means gone gangsta cliches (the so-called New York-Cali rivalry), or plain old-fashioned me-first materialism (the Dirty South, Jay-Z).

With a lot of hip hop, it's easy to feel the beats or get sucked into the flow, but often the need for rappers to come on hard and real, no matter what, has gotten in the way. Two years ago in an interview with The New Yorker, producer Prince Paul despaired over the same thing. "There are so many other interesting things to write about in the world," he said, decrying hip hop's loss of imagination and, he implied, nerve.

The Black Eyed Peas' brand of hip hop is closer in spirit to the self-consciously intellectual rap of East Coast artists such as Gang Starr, the Roots and Mos Def, all of whom they happily name-checked at one time or other during their Feb. 7 show at Shibuya On Air East.

The Peas were there to party, and the smaller-than-expected audience was not allowed to forget it at any time during the show. Another thing they weren't allowed to forget was that the Peas consider themselves old-school.

"Too many MCs have lost the true meaning," the group's leader, Will I Am, emphasized during the opening statement of purpose, "Bringing It Back." "We're the only crew that's become original."

The "original" thing became a theme all its own during the set, which begged two questions: How original can you be when your stated purpose is to go "back to the days of Soulsonic"; and isn't complaining about other rappers "being wack" one of the corollaries of hard-and-real?

"Is it all about the thrills?" Al.De.Ap singsonged during the stop-and-go of "Get Original," "I'd rather have my soul fulfilled." Still, thrills were what the trio of rappers and their able rhythm section were after. While Will commanded the lion's share of the rhymes, Al.De.Ap ran back and forth behind him and Taboo, wearing a head scarf and the kind of short Japanese jacket you find in hotel gift shops, got crazy with kung fu gestures and his own brand of incoherent verbal effects.

Though the three-piece band and DJ set up some sophisticated sonics, the three MCs weren't always able to get a groove going, even if their timing and interaction were impressive. It wasn't until the jazzy "Joints and Jams" that the audience genuinely started to "bounce" the way Taboo kept telling them to.

In their insistence on bringing back old-school values, they reserved the centerpiece of the concert for showing off not only the instrumental prowess of their band, but, more importantly, their own hip-hop chops, which included a demonstration of B-boying and the requisite freestyle competition.

It was more quaint than exciting. The Peas believe hip hop has lost its relevance because MCs today ignore the skills that once made the music not just a personal statement but a real populist art form. While the three were having fun during each B-boy blowout, they acted as if they needed to prove something.

I think the audience would have been happier with more songs; in other words, more of what makes the Peas "original." Including the encore, they were only onstage for an hour, 15 minutes of which was dedicated to re-creating the roots of hip hop. After the history lesson, they threw down in succession three excellent tunes -- "Tell Your Mama Come," "Movement" and "Head Bobs." With slamming beats, expert flow and some great, head-spinning rhymes about having a good time, these songs did more to conjure up an old-school party atmosphere than the purely academic dues-paying that went before.

The audience fell into a natural groove that made the previous requests to get down and party and blah-blah-blah superfluous. People jumped on the stage and Taboo jumped off it. "Just like back in the day," Will shouted approvingly. Moving backward may not be progress, but at least it's going somewhere.