The Night My Mom Took Me To Puff Daddy’s No Way Out Tour
Revisiting my first concert and a memorable mother-son evening courtesy of Jay-Z, Busta Rhymes, Lil’ Kim, and Puff Daddy.
The journey through parenthood includes countless moments of exhilarating joy and humbling defeats on our way to all of our children’s firsts. Their first steps. The first day of school. Their first concert.
My wife and I love live shows, so when I think about our girls asking us to take them to their first concert, I get excited thinking about the memories we’ll make! But then I think about my first concert and welp… memories were definitely made.
“What was your first concert?”
This has to be my favorite ice-breaker question. I was born in 1986, so throughout the 90s, you had several iconic options to choose from. There were the boybands, *NSYNC, Backstreet Boys, and 98 Degrees. Then, you had Pop Icons, Britany Spears, or Christina Aguilera. My wife’s first concert was Sammy, a classic.
But in 1997, I attended my first concert featuring a list of artists who, along with the boybands and pop icons, had also spent their time battling for the top spot on MTVs Total Request Live, including the show’s opening act, Jay-Z.
Yes, at 11 years old, I attended the opening night of Puff Daddy’s No Way Out Tour in Albany, NY. Easily the most memorable night of my childhood.
Like anybody with a pulse, my buddy Mike and I heard about the tour coming to Albany. News of the Bad Boy Family coming to Albany was all anybody at Queensbury Middle School could talk about.
The lineup was INSANE. Jay-Z, Usher, Foxy Brown, The Lox, Busta Rhymes, 112, Ma$e, Lil Cease, Lil Kim, and of course, Puff Daddy.
These were the biggest names in music in 1997, and if you were lucky enough to grab tickets, your social status was guaranteed to move up a few notches.
I don’t remember how I built the audacity, but Mike and I asked our moms if we could go. Our moms were cool, but Mike’s mom was really cool. Like, a decked-out basement for the kids where we could watch movies and drink coca-colas all night, kind of cool. So I figured she’d say yes.
But my mom? My mom bought my CDs at Walmart because she wouldn’t let me listen to explicit music. I had Puff Daddy’s No Way Out album. Only mine was missing four songs from the album because they were too explicit to include. My mom was not saying yes to an evening with Puff and his family.
Before my Hail Mary request, Mike, our buddy Ivan, and I won first place in the Queensbury lip-syncing contest, performing the edited version of “Mo Money, Mo Problems” in front of our whole school.
The performance was fun, light, and we even had backup dancers!
Ivan, Mike, and me before our 1997 Queensbury Middle School Air Band performance.
So when I asked my mom if we could get tickets to the Puff Daddy concert, she said, “Oh, the singer of ‘I’ll Be Missing You” and “Mo Money Mo Problems? Sure!”
I don’t think she knew of “It’s All About The Benjamins” or his role as producer on Notorious BIG’s “Ready To Die.”
Without any additional context provided by me, she said yes… but I also knew she didn’t completely understand what she had said yes to. To be fair, I didn’t completely understand what I was asking. If I had known, I think I would have asked if my uncle could have taken me instead.
Regardless, the four of us got tickets. We were officially going to the opening night of the No Way Out tour, and somehow we convinced our friend Chris and his mom to go.
Now, Mike and his mom are white. My mom is white. Chris and his mom were white white. For context, I think Chris is managing a golf course today, which, if you looked at 11-year-old Chris, you 100% would have said, “That kid’s gonna be running a successful golf course someday.”
Leading up to the concert, I’m getting nervous. My mom, aka the sweetest woman in the world, is about to get blindsided at this concert. Her 11-year-old son had just walked her into the lion’s den, and she had absolutely no clue. My only hope was that New York had recently made a law that wouldn’t let artists swear on stage, and everything would be clean. Unfortunately, despite my deepest hopes, this would not be the Kidz Bop rendition of No Way Out.
We arrived at the Pepsi Arena in Albany, and the second we drove into the parking lot, I braced for a U-turn home. There were metal detectors galore, the crowd was rowdy, and weed smoke was EVERYWHERE.
We’re from Queensbury, a small, quiet, very white town. This felt like walking through… well… a Puff Daddy and the Family concert. Our moms looked like they should have done a little more research.
Mike, our moms, and I eventually got to our seats. Chris and his mom were sitting somewhere else, and boy, do I wish I could have seen their face on the way in. Likewise, I wish I could have seen the faces of other concertgoers as they watched the Queensbury Country Club members walk to their seats.
We had Upper-level seats two rows back from the railing. We sat directly in the middle of the Pepsi arena with views of the stage, the crowd, and the giant screens. Good seats.
As we settle in, two women sit in the row ahead of us. Of these women, I remember two things.
After standing up and shaking every part of their body, they kindly offered to switch seats with us so Mike and I could see better.
They weren’t wearing much, making me not super eager to change seats. Shockingly, my mom accepted their offer.
Mike and I looked at each other like, “Can you believe we actually convinced them to take us here?” It was a nervous excitement as if this might be the best night of my life or the last night of my life. Possibly both. Either way, let’s get on with the show.
The first artist to grace the stage is Jay-Z. The context in 2023 is hilarious because the first live performer I ever saw was none other than Beyoncé’s husband, billionaire businessman, and arguably the greatest rapper of all time, Sean Carter. In 1997, Jay-Z was the opening act for my first concert. It’s kinda motivating if you think about it.
Now, while I expected my Walmart CD-buying mom to make us leave the second she heard The City Is Mine, she didn’t. I mean, he was just walking around the stage, doing his thing. She didn’t love the lyrics or his bullet-proof vest, but I’d imagine her thought process was we drove an hour to get here, paid for the tickets, and my son would hear these lyrics eventually, and he likely already has, so we might as well stay.
Jay-Z was awesome. Also, he was only on tour for a few weeks before quitting over shortened stage time, so I’m thankful we got to see him perform.
Foxy Brown, who I loved, was also great, and I’m assuming so was Usher, which, embarrassingly enough, I completely forgot he was on this tour until I started researching to check my memory.
Next up was Busta Rhymes.
Now I LOVED Busta and have not forgotten this performance. On weekends, I would walk around my room singing Put Your Hands Where My Eyes Could See, pretending to be in an iconic Busta music video. Naturally, I was pumped.
I was less pumped when this man walked out on the stage and immediately yelled, “What’s up my, N****s and B*****s?!”
After a few songs, he had all of Albany, NY, chanting, “F*** THESE N****S & F*** THESE B*****S!” while demanding everyone put their middle fingers in the air.
Mom was shook. She ensured I did not follow Mr. Rhymes’s very clear request.
Somewhere during the show, The Lox hit the stage. Lil Cease showed up. R&B supergroup 112 appeared in what was likely the only moment any of us could comfortably breathe all night. As the crowd sang 112’s hit song, “Cupid,” I thought, “See? Not too bad. Maybe the evening will be chill from here on out…” but then puberty arrived.
Enter the stage, Lil’ Kim.
The lights went down as the stage crew changed the set. After singing along to all those 112 love songs, the crowd was ready for action. Just then, the stage turns red, a heart-shaped bed with the cursive Lil’ Kim logo on the top rolls out, and Lil Kim is on the bed, back to the crowd, simulating having sex with some guy as he’s handcuffed to the bed. I’m assuming they were acting, but who really knows?
Listen… my 11-year-old eyes had never seen anything like what Lil’ Kim showed me that night.
While attempting to fact-check my own story, I found an article from The Harvard Crimson detailing the Worcester, MA, performance. In it, the author writes:
For half an hour she performed on stage wearing a small bikini bottom and top along with a tiny fur coat. This revealing clothing begged the question why the adjective “Lil’” is actually used in her name.
Lil’ Kim rolls out of bed and follows Busta Rhymes’s lead by yelling, “What’s up, all my n****s & b*****s?!”
The crowd went berzerk.
Lil’ Kim performed a set that I will always remember. All kidding aside, honestly, it was wildly impressive. Artistically, Kim commanded the crowd with every move, but with every sexual reference as she rapped to her Platinum selling album “Hard Core,” I side-eye my mom, wondering how in the world we were still in the arena. My only explanation is she was temporarily paralyzed because this woman didn’t say a word.
Kim left the stage, and I felt like I had just robbed a bank and was on a high-speed chase through the city. I know this is my last night of freedom, but man, I’m going out on a high note before I get grounded for the rest of my childhood.
Next up, the arena goes black, and the crowd prepares for the last performance of the night… it’s time for Puff Daddy.
Without a moment’s notice, topless women are plastered all over the giant screens. Then, in preparation for the main event, they played a video clip of women dancing with absolutely nothing on.
It felt like Mike and I stumbled into a strip club, ready to lose our minds, except we walked in with our moms, and I was a literal child. Do you think watching movie sex scenes with your parents is bad? Imagine that cringe level on steroids.
Puff hits the stage and almost immediately demands the crowd chant, “F** you! F*** you!” I’m sitting there like 50 Cent thinking, “What did he say f*** me for?” Even now, it seems weird for an artist to request his audience to yell at each other, but this man had 15,000 people screaming it right back at him.
The whole set was crazy. Dancers galore, energy through the roof. We’ve made it through Jay-Z, Busta Rhymes, The Lox, and Lil’ Kim, and I am blown away that we are still there, ready for the home stretch.
Outwardly, I was showing no emotion, afraid to get caught up in the moment and let out a giant “F*** you, too, Puff!” and be sent to boarding school for the rest of my life. Internally, Mike and I look at each other again, thinking, “We’re about to be legends back in Queensbury once we get back to school on Monday!”
But then Puff had to take it too far…
I forget what song he was playing, but at some point, Puff grabs a female dancer, and they end up on the ground. Did they fall? Is everyone okay? I don’t know but all I know is Puff lays on his stomach, pulls her close, and immediately puts his head up her skirt.
The crowd lost it. Cheering the act as if Patrick Ewing just hit the game-winning shot to send the Knicks to the finals. Everyone around us loved it. My mom did not. I take one look at her, and she says, “We’re leaving!”
I think my guy Chris left after seeing Jay-Z’s bulletproof vest.
We get up and fight our way through the crowd. I felt like Squints in The Sandlot after he kissed the lifeguard and got carted out of the pool.
Puff started to perform “Victory,” which was my favorite song at the time. As we left the arena, Busta Rhymes was out on the stage, again screaming at the top of his lungs, “F*** THESE N****S! F*** THESE B*****S!” Honestly, those comments felt directed at us somehow.
The ride home was silent. I don’t remember the radio being turned on. I don’t remember a lesson being taught. I don’t remember talking about the concert. Nothing.
Was I in trouble? It felt like I was, but at the same time, my mom wasn’t saying anything. I don’t know what was worse. I knew she was livid, but at who?
From that moment on, whenever someone mentioned Puff Daddy, Diddy, Sean Combs, etc., my mom would get furious as if she had a vendetta against this man that would never go away. Given the recent and disgusting allegations against Mr. Combs, I’d say my mom’s vendetta was well warranted.
Though when Monday morning came around, and I walked into Mrs. Ramsey’s homeroom class, everyone around me asked, “So, how was the concert?”
I summoned the words I could have never told my mom that night; “It was amazing!”
Fifteen years later, as I was getting married, during rehearsal dinner, my soon-to-be mother-in-law asked my mom to share a story about me that they didn’t know. I moved from New York to California when I was 14, so they were largely unaware of my childhood stories.
My mom looks at me, smirks, and says, “Oh, I’ve got a story for you,” and proceeds to tell her side of the No Way Out Tour story.
As an adult, reliving this memory with my mom was significantly less awkward than being by her side as a kid while watching Lil’ Kim have sex with a man in handcuffs.
My mom told the story, leaving everyone to laugh at the absurdity of the entire evening. But towards the end of the story, my mom added one small detail about the aftermath that I never knew.
Apparently, after the concert, my mom wrote a lengthy and unpleasant letter to the Pepsi Arena about the show. In it, she noted that the arena should put some explicit advisory message on the tickets, informing parents that this would be an event with a lot of foul language and sexual imagery. In addition, she told them that they should really do a better job of informing parents about the show before they take their kids inside.
We all cracked up, even her, at the thought of a white mom in Queensbury, NY, writing a letter to Lord knows who at Pepsi Arena, complaining about Puff Daddy’s language and actions during a concert almost guaranteed to be the wildest night in Albany’s history.
I asked, “Did anybody ever respond to your letter?”
While laughing, she said, “Of course not! I’m sure whoever opened that letter is still laughing at me today.”