Lanre Bakare 

Chance the Rapper review – more like a rock concert than a hip-hop gig

The young Chicagoan's acid-washed rap act combines great showmanship with tight musicianship, writes Lanre Bakare
  
  

Chance the Rapper, Forum, London 2014
From jazz to juke … Chance the Rapper at the Forum in London. Photograph: C Brandon/Redferns via Getty Images Photograph: C Brandon/Redferns via Getty Images

When asked recently by US talk-show host Arsenio Hall to choose one thing he'd learned from his time spent opening for Eminem, Chance the Rapper simply answered, "showmanship". And as the Chicagoan MC – who made waves last year with his free mixtape Acid Rap (which was a fixture in nearly every end-of-year list, including ours) – begins his set in a sweltering and packed Forum, it's clear his answer wasn't hot air.

The violent imagery of drill (headed up by artists such as Lil Durk and Chief Keef) is the dominant sound in Chicagoan hip-hop at the moment, but Chance sidesteps that altogether in order to deliver acid-washed rap that's informed by Chicago's vast musical lineage instead.

Starting with the introspective Everybody's Something, he leads his band – made up of a drummer, guitarist, keyboard player and trumpeter – like a hyperactive conductor, throwing his arms up before bringing them down sharply when he wants the music to stop. He also leads the crowd through some call-and-response cooing: the band give new energy to Pusha Man, his Ice T-quoting ode to narcotics, with Acid Rap stand-out Favourite Song.

But it isn't only showmanship where Chance and the band excel: their musicianship is spot-on as well. From AC/DC-style guitar-wielding antics to searing trumpet solos, the set is peppered with moments that make it feel more like a rock concert than a hip-hop show. Lyrical references to his home town pop up in nearly all of his songs and there are touches of the bluesy exhibitionism of Muddy Waters, the jazz experimentalism of Herbie Hancock and the conscious hip-hop of Lupe Fiasco.

Towards the end, Chance drops into some juke and provides the customary rapid-fire top rock dancing himself.

The only time you'd guess this is a relatively inexperienced 21-year-old is when Chance talks to the audience. His speech is peppered with "erms" and "arghs" as he often loses his focus, then launches into another track. Yet despite the odd lapse into mumblecore, this is an artist confident enough to try to amalgamate soul, funk, R&B and rap, and one who is in control of that alchemy rather than in awe of it.

 

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