If you say that yesterday's performance by 50 Cent in the Frankfurt Festhalle was far better than the half-time break of the Superbowl at the beginning of the year, that doesn't mean much.

In the gigantic, designed by Dr.

Dre, Eminem and Snoop Dogg, which was hailed by many as the latest proof of hip-hop's dominance in America's mainstream, 50 Cent came last and hung to the tune of his biggest hit, "In Da Club." , initially in a stage cube somewhat helplessly falling from the ceiling, as if he had just suffered a household accident.

The choreographic allusion to the video from back then was lost because there wasn't much to see from the earlier six-pack underneath the dark shirt.

Uwe Ebbinghaus

Editor in the Feuilleton.

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Finally landed on his feet, he padded between the dancers like a blind bear through the arena, the old lightness, the short swings of the hips, was no longer to be seen.

But he's already 46 years old, one thought, had cheated death several times and hadn't released a new album for years, he had almost completely disappeared from the stage.

Most recently he had turned out to be a businessman, he produces music, sometimes quite successful series and show formats, and sells his own cognac and champagne.

But after the half-time break, the passionate hobby boxer, who shaped the image of the muscle-bound rap singer like no other, may have had the idea of ​​showing it to everyone again - the primal dramaturgy in hip hop.

A little later a new tour was announced, Berlin was sold out immediately, dates in Cologne and Frankfurt were added.

More than 10,000 guests are now waiting in the tropically hot Festhalle for 50 Cent's first appearance in Germany in twelve years.

In the first row, a few well-known German rappers with and without jail experience take a seat next to a crowd of influencers or people who look like them, and off we go.

There's a bang, the music from "What Up Gangsta" sounds and 50 Cent jumps blithely onto the stage, wearing a thin hooded jacket over his orange T-shirt, which is probably just supposed to signal: I'm back, I was only gone for a short time.

In the sweltering heat, it flies onto the floor after a few seconds.

"Fitty", as the singer calls himself in his own pronunciation (grew up in the New York borough of Queens, fragment of a bullet in his tongue), has been training hard since February, shoulders and neck are reminiscent of those of a bull;

if you look around the audience, in which a surprising number of young people are teetering along, you come to the conclusion: he is probably the strongest man in the hall.

For a few seconds 50 Cent searches for his middle, waving and bouncing, then he's in the flow,

but initially cannot dispel the association with a sports trainer who tries to dominate the hectare surrounding him with pure physical presence.

The audience's arms stay up, but there's an occasional water shower from the master of ceremonies.