The rap-theorists of Das Racist

Backstage, Victor Vazquez and Himanshu Suri act like two goofy teenagers. Right now, they're joking about reforming their hip-hop group, Das Racist, into a classic rock band in the vein of Cream.

"Fuck the influences, let's become those bands," Suri proposed.

"I just really want to live in Eric Clapton's house," Vazquez responded.

The back-and-forth absurdities between the effortlessly funny duo set the tone for the rest of their show at the Highline Ballroom. Clad in coordinated ensembles with thick-rimmed glasses and beanies, Das Racist, joined by hype man and part-time member Ashok Kondabolu — aka Dap — bounded onto the stage with the energy of a hyperactive child.

As layers of electronic, Indian and hip-hop beats emerged from the speakers, the threesome looked a bit like tribal dancers, leisurely hopping around from one foot to the other while holding cans of PBR.

Though they didn't team up until after graduation, Suri met Vazquez as his resident advisor at Wesleyan University.

"We hit it off right away," Suri said. "There was just a lot of positive energy. In a non-sexual way I felt drawn to him as an artist."

"I felt drawn to you sexually," Vazquez chimed in.

That close-knit bond is easily observed onstage as they play off each other's vibes, bouncing into each other while laughing like old buddies throughout the show. Their songs are littered with hyper-literate verses — "I shoplifted Tao Lin's 'Shoplifting from American Apparel' but I didn't get caught like Perry Farrell" — and references ranging from Maya Angelou to Lil' Bow Wow.

The Brooklyn-based group appears equally concerned with getting high and crafting wit. Marijuana seems to have become a prerequisite for their shows and jams sessions.

"My dad told me not to say this anymore, but we get most of our stuff from smoking weed," Vazquez confirmed.

It's easy to write them off as joke-rappers, unless you've been reading The New Yorker or the Village Voice. They're politically conscious intellectuals who rap about what irks them and works them in contemporary culture, including the immigrant experience, fashion, race, politics and fast food. They've created a movement all their own; they're rap-theorists.

In a recent article by the boys of Das Racist for The Village Voice, they reveal their hang-ups on capitalist monopolies, their affinity for the 11th-century Chinese poet Su Shi and the meme-history of their incredible "Combination Pizza Hut and Taco Bell."

In The New Yorker, Vazquez engaged in a cartoon-off with one of the magazine's established cartoonists and wrote a rebuttal, complete with several haikus, to an article by Sasha Frere-Jones about the alleged death of hip-hop.

"Rap (nor anything else) need not necessarily be viewed in terms of origins or boundaries, births or deaths," wrote Vazquez and Suri for Flavorwire.

It's clear that their charming, ludicrous demeanor masks an invigorated intellectualism. As they made their way through the set and reached "Don Dada," the duo seemed to be asking the question that's plaguing all of us about their music:
"Is it parody, comedy, novelty or scholarly?"

Their answer: "A little bit of comedy, nay a little bit of Common 'Be,' a little common projects, a little bit of wallabies, probably you can always find me with a collabee."

No one seems to have the answer, including Das Racist. But it's precisely that indefinable quality that puts them at the top of their game. Their work is witty, ridiculous, kitschy and catchy. It defies expectation and categorization.

Of course, when they're performing — high, most likely, or not — the rappers are keenly aware of who they are and what they're doing. In the words of Suri:

"We're just two dudes getting paid to hang out on stage."