My arrival to the Barrymore Theatre was met with a scene almost comical in its adherence to how Fox News and your grandmother imagine hip-hop. Jarring bass and trap-style hi-hats filled the hazy auditorium, which was rife with the smell of that sweet, sweet chronic.
Bay Area rapper Jay Ant led the raucous group of teenagers in front of him in a unifying chant of “FUCK BITCHES GET MONEY.” The youth repeated his words to the probable dismay of their grandparents. Jay Ant’s stage was illuminated by orange spotlights which throbbed in rhythm to his beats as he strode across the stage. He extended an open hand to the front row, who eagerly grasped his outstretched limb as though he was a faith healer. Jay Ant did well with getting the crowd well-energized for his HBK gang label-mate, IAMSU!. He ended with a shoutout to Lil B, infusing the rest of the show with BasedGod’s blessing. No wrong could be done now.
Several Lil B tracks later, IAMSU! stepped onstage to signal a 40-minute block of pure flame. Heavy Bay-style bass beats were slapped as the audience twisted and bobbed to IAMSU!’s flow. He tossed banger after banger to the ravenous mob before him, who devoured his tracks with unfaltering enthusiasm. IAMSU! is clearly sticking to his tried-and-true guns of bass-heavy turn-up tracks, and his strategy worked. Red spotlights cut through the hazy Barrymore air like a robotic eye in an apocalyptic future where icy beats are the new currency. IAMSU! performed his verse from his “Gas Pedal” remix and ended with his hit “Only That Real,” leaving the audience properly riled up.
After another brief down period it was time for Bay Area legend E-40. His presence onstage was preceded by an unidentified hype man, whose overzealous ad-libbing and demands for chants from the audience detracted from E-40’s performance. Despite being an arguably larger name in hip-hop, the audience was noticeably less hyped. Not only was the detracting emcee an issue, but E-40’s DJ relied far too often on the “cut-the-beat-to-make-the-audience-sing-the-track” card, which was more distracting than it was beneficial.
E-40 opted out of elaborate stage light displays like IAMSU! did, and slower tracks with more staggered verses failed to excite the audience in the way IAMSU! could. E-40’s golden era of the early 2000s was perhaps too early to have reached the largely adolescent audience, and this lack of familiarity and dated style also contributed to the surprising lack of enthusiasm for such a famous artist.
E-40 left the stage and 20 minutes passed as stagehands set up a drum set, staircase and new turntable. Clearly, G-Eazy had big plans in store for his set. As chants of “G EAZY” and restlessness grew, a 60-second countdown timer appeared on an otherwise black stage.
The clock hit zero and the crowd cheered as spotlights flared on, fog pouring from offstage, and a G-Eazy beat began to play. Suddenly, a 10-by-10-feet LED screen blasted on with the beat, revealing the lanky silhouette of G-Eazy himself. The audience shrieked with excitement as G-Eazy hit his first track. The Barrymore was packed at this point, with all hands bouncing in rhythm. G-Eazy’s voice overwhelmed the beat, but the sheer bravado of his entrance and the unbridled enthusiasm of his audience made up for it. The track ended and lights went on as G-Eazy appeared to greet the crowd in his all-black uniform and signature pompadour.
He greeted us with a “What the fuck is up, Madison?” and praised the city for its venues and willingness to get drunk at a moment’s notice. His set continued with more recent tracks like “Monica Lewinsky” as several bras were thrown on stage.
G-Eazy collected the undergarments on his mic stand. “Where my single ladies tonight?” brought furious shrieks. G-Eazy was aware of his appeal for many members of the audience, and at many points it felt like his intentions to bang several undergrads overruled his intention of delivering a quality performance.
Eazy’s live set unfortunately lost the cool, monotone flow for which he is known. As a live performer, he shouts into the mic, forfeiting the laid-back, “joe cool” vibe that distinguishes his rhymes in the studio. Many of his chosen tracks were hard to justify as hyped-up, banger-style songs, yet it felt like he was attempting to deliver them as such. Still, the effect was underwhelming – it’s clear he tried to maintain his monotone delivery, yet the necessity of delivering lyrics at a high volume instead made him sound like an angry Brick Tamland (Steve Carell’s character in “Anchorman”). He spat loudly, but trying to maintain the laid-back sound simply eliminated emotion from the lyrics.
Undeniably, G-Eazy does have louder, house-party-style tracks, and those worked well. But attempting to turn what are naturally mellower songs into the same degree of hype only created a disturbing incongruity between the mood of the beat and lyrics.
While plagued by this vocal predicament, an unbalanced sound system and the occasional microphone feedback screech, G-Eazy’s character and showmanship kept the audience from really noticing. In many ways, it was a lesson in confidence – if you pretend like nothing’s wrong, hardly anybody will notice.
