Kanye West embarks on space odyssey

Kanye West

At G.M. Place on Monday, June 2

Kanye West’s current Glow in the Dark tour feels like rap’s Dark Side of the Moon moment, marking a genre’s break from its roots to the cosmic grandeur of science fiction. The Chicago rapper may have presented Monday’s G.M. Place crowd with virtually the same set that he performed there in 2007, but the context was altogether transformed: the show played like a sci-fi odyssey with the scope and theatricality of the glitziest Broadway musicals.

On a stage designed to mimic the rolling hills of an unknown planet, West cast himself as a lonely outer space traveller, an artist-as-astronaut exploring the universe for what he called “new sources of inspiration”. The premise may have been flimsy and the acting verging on cornball, but the show was utterly compelling, with West injecting even his oldest hits with a newfound vitality.

Part of the show’s fun was trying to figure out how the MC would shoehorn his songs into the story line. “All Falls Down”, for instance, soundtracked his crash landing in outer space, while “Homecoming” heralded, not surprisingly, his eventual return to Earth. More interesting than how the tracks fit into the plot was how fiercely they were delivered, as if the plight of West’s hapless astronaut depended on the intensity and perfection of their execution.

Looking like a cross between the heroes of Tron and Solaris in his grey sweatshirt and flimsy shoulder pads, the rapper gave a fierce and nuanced performance, at times using digital enhancements to pitch his voice up (on the vocoded “Good Life”) and down (the chopped-and-screwed “Get Em High”).

West’s many vocal shadings and the songs’ arrangements teased out the Glow in the Dark theme, as starry lines of synthesized melody rose from the martial pulse of an electric bassist and two Batucada drummers. “Heard ”˜Em Say”, an uplifting, almost dainty piano-led number in recorded form, was turned into something altogether different on-stage, the band’s stripped-down attack spurring a marooned and seemingly hopeless West to clench his jaw and deliver the lines “The devil is alive, I feel him breathin’,” with palpable spite.

At show’s end, West showed he wasn’t so angry after all, breaking character to offer a sermon to the faithful assembled, lashing out at the critics who’ve called him egomaniacal, positing himself as nothing more and nothing less than a serious artist, telling his fans that he loves them, and having that sentiment feverishly reciprocated.

Before the headliner blew their wigs, the mostly teenaged concertgoers put their cellphones away long enough to enjoy an energetic opening set from Lupe Fiasco, who’s clever and polished enough to dethrone the likes of Common and Mos Def. N.E.R.D., a band fronted by the Neptunes’ Pharrell Williams, was just fucking terrible, offering a take on the Beastie Boys’ rap-rock fusion with 10 times the goofball factor and none of the charm. Then came Rihanna, a gorgeous deer trapped in the arena lights, offering a nervous chirp where only a resonant belt will suffice.

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