The Fugees have brought along some very special guests. "Prince and the Revolution couldn't be here," grins Wyclef, "but we got De La Soul in the house. Michael Jackson couldn't make it but we got Nas." This is a bill that showcases the past (De La Soul), present (The Fugees) and future (Nas) of rap. In the late-Eighties, De La Soul were as huge as The Fugees. As yet they have been unable to repeat either the ingenuity or success of their debut, 3 Feet High and Rising. If they ever do, they may well explode.
Luckily for The Fugees, their first album was not very good. Everyone said they should split up and that singer, 20-year-old Lauryn Hill, should go solo. There were no expectations for The Score. They didn't have to do their growing up in public. They grew up fast. Since their debut, a full-on, shouty affair, Lauryn has found her voice. It is astounding that the most committed, rich and spine- tingling sound in modern pop was not utilised before. But before the diva enters, rapping, Wyclef and the backing band play a selection of hip-hop classics, including Busta Rhymes's "Woo Ha!" and Grandmaster Flash's "White Lines', before segueing into Bob Marley's "No Woman, No Cry". "I remember when we used to sit in the government yard in Brooklyn," he sings. When Frank Sinatra changes words of well-loved standards, say, "That's why the lady is a tramp" to "That's why the chick is a champ", you want to punch things. But the Fugees' hearts (and minds) are firmly in the right place. As Wyclef explains: "Fugees stands for refugees. We represent the projects." Who better to celebrate and reinterpret Marley's legacy?
Wyclef, who for reasons unknown, is wearing a builder's hard hat and Lauryn and Pras (who entered the stage on a police motorbike) create between them a fluid sound in a field where live shows usually sound stilted. They are absolutely compelling, three fierce bundles of finger-flicking energy. Joined by labelmate Nas, they continue to play long after the Forum's curfew. Hail the greatest circus on earth.