A friend of mine told me the best Ice Cube story I’ve ever heard.

Back in the days, my friend went to see NWA and Too $hort at the Henry J. Kaiser Auditorium in Oakland. When time for the show came, all the other "boyz in the ‘hood" were present - Eazy, Ren, Dre, Yella, and Arabian Prince - except for Cube. His father, as it turned out, refused to let him go on tour because he didn’t think the whole rap group thing was gonna work out.

Twenty-three years into a still-evolving career, we now know that Cube’s dad was wrong. NWA became pioneers of West Coast gangsta rap and Cube - the group’s main writer, as well as the dude with one of the coolest rap names of all time - has become not only one of rap’s most successful, celebrated icons, but a bona fide film and TV star as well.

Still, this anecdote says a lot about the essential dichotomy of Ice Cube. Ostensibly a Jheri-curled gangsta from the mean streets of South Central Los Angeles, in actuality, O’Shea Jackson was a middle-class kid who grew up in a two-parent home. This seeming disconnect between the character Jackson created and who Jackson himself is, isn’t particularly new to pop culture in general, nor rap in particular - the Too $hort/Todd Shaw dichotomy comes to mind - but it does explain how Cube could be believable as the mean-muggin’ thug Doughboy in “Boyz ‘n the Hood” and the nerdy, affable Craig James in the “Friday” movies. Over his long career, he’s portrayed a bunch of different characters in his music as well as his movies.

Take, for instance, “Amerikkka’s Most Wanted,” the title track of Cube’s first solo record. Though he (and others) refer to himself in the first-person throughout the record, technically-speaking, the song isn’t strictly autobiographical. In actuality, Cube’s perspective is of a South Central resident, a petty criminal who finds himself on the TV show “America’s Most Wanted,” after committing some robberies in the suburbs. The song’s payoff lines come in the third verse, which shifts from an analysis of black-on-black crime to a larger denouement of the racial dynamic inherent in the criminal justice system and, ultimately, the prison-industrial complex: “I think back when I was robbin’ my own kind/ The police didn't pay it no mind/ But when I start robbin’ the white folks/ Now I'm in the pen wit the soap-on-a-rope.”

Such twists are what has always set Cube apart from generic gangstas; ever since the NWA days, he’s been a street reporter and occasional political commentator who understands the gangbanger/thug mentality as well as the media and law enforcement perspective. It’s one thing to sample P-Funk and quite another to reference Tom Brokaw.

This year marks the 20th anniversary of the “Amerikkka’s Most Wanted” album, one of the most notable releases in what may have been the best year ever for rap albums. A Tribe Called Quest, Brand Nubian, X-Clan, Public Enemy, Boogie Down Productions, Compton’s Most Wanted, Digital Underground and Poor Righteous Teachers also dropped classic LPs that year, yet of that impressive list, most of those groups either broke up long ago or have been resigned to the occasional reunion show.

Yet Cube still commands considerable industry stature as well as a loyal fan base. He’s been able to maintain his position as a gangsta rap icon amidst an influx of new jack thugs and a changing music-biz dynamic. He continues to amass respectable sales numbers long after most of his peers have fallen off, despite the fact that he’s no longer on a major label, having gone the independent route in 2006. His ninth solo album, “I Am the West,” may be his most inspired record in years, suggesting he’s not quite ready for the rap retirement home at age 41.

Saturday’s performance at the Uptown reinforced that notion. Flanked on-stage by his long-time associates WC and DJ Crazy Toons, Cube had the vitality and energy of someone just starting out in showbiz. Dressed plainly in an all-black ensemble - fedora, button down shirt, chinos - his only concession to bling were his shiny Converse Chuck Taylor sneakers. He looked as if he could have come right off the streets, directly onto the stage.

Anyone looking for a resurgence of political Cube would have been disappointed, however, he didn’t play anything off “Amerikkka’s Most Wanted" nor its equally-eyebrow-raising follow-up, “Death Certificate.” He likewise ignored the entire NWA catalog, with the exception of “Hello,” notable for its line, “I started this gangsta sh-- … .”

It would be nit-picking, though, to find fault with his performance, which broadly circled around the highlights of Cube’s canon - from classic party anthems like “It Was a Good Day” and “You Know How We Do It” to mid-period uptempo jams like “We Be Clubbin’” and “You Can Do It” to “I Rep That West,” a brand-new song off the recent album. He got a teensy bit gangsta with the West Coast anthem “Bow Down” and the slightly-psychopathic “Natural Born Killers,” but for the most part stayed away from overly-ominous or dark material. That most of the audience were die-hard Cube fans was evident from the way they repeated his lyrics line for line - when they weren’t raising lit blunts in tribute to the rap icon.

Cube gave Oakland props on several occasions, remarking that he was a committed Raider fan at one point; at another, he said, “Man, I need to come back here more often.” Near the end of the show, he announced that another hip-hop legend, Oakland’s Too $hort, was in the house, along with rapper/producer EA-Ski. He also made a point of complementing his cousin Del, who opened the show, noting, “he’s stayed true to himself.”

The same could be said about Cube himself. He’s eminently comfortable inhabiting the character he created all those years ago - I wouldn’t recommend challenging him to a mean-mugging contest - and the fact that he’s still rapping and releasing albums, though he clearly doesn’t need the money, speaks to his love for the hip-hop art form. It’s also clear that he’s proud of his well-deserved rep as a good stage performer, one who’s willing to show love to his audience ... and receive love in return.