by Andrea Rice
I’m going to be honest. I don’t know how to dance at a rap concert. Case and point: this past Monday evening I found myself at the O2 Academy Brixton, attempting earnestly to get down to Wiz Khalifa’s beats. Admittedly, I’m not a devoted fan of his work. My Wiz-repertoire is shamefully limited to his most popular tracks, including “Black and Yellow” and “No Sleep”. Thankfully, Wiz delivered a wildly energetic performance that made it impossible not to have fun. Khalifa had a tremendous theatrical presence and charisma that I instantly gravitated towards. Furthermore, Wiz’s lyrical talent is exceptional. After seeing a rapper become so deeply lost in the flow of his words and connect to his audience the way Wiz did, I have a newfound appreciation for the genre in general.
I’m going to be honest. I don’t know how to dance at a rap concert. Case and point: this past Monday evening I found myself at the O2 Academy Brixton, attempting earnestly to get down to Wiz Khalifa’s beats. Admittedly, I’m not a devoted fan of his work. My Wiz-repertoire is shamefully limited to his most popular tracks, including “Black and Yellow” and “No Sleep”. Thankfully, Wiz delivered a wildly energetic performance that made it impossible not to have fun. Khalifa had a tremendous theatrical presence and charisma that I instantly gravitated towards. Furthermore, Wiz’s lyrical talent is exceptional. After seeing a rapper become so deeply lost in the flow of his words and connect to his audience the way Wiz did, I have a newfound appreciation for the genre in general.
Khalifa’s theatricality stemmed from his ability to make the stage his playground. Decked out in a baggy flannel and sporting his signature blonde hairstreak, Wiz bounded to and fro across the stage with tremendous swagger despite his slender, smallish frame. His performance was highly physical and animated, with frequent leaps on and off speakers and enthusiastic pumping of the arms throughout. When not atop an amplifier, he’d often hunch over and rock to the beat, seemingly lost in the moment. He fearlessly (and sometimes ferociously) belted out his raps—even diverging on occasion from the original song to sing or shout a few lyrics.
No matter the moment, Wiz was a sight to be seen. Given the intensity of his movements, Khalifa eventually shed the heavy flannel and his undershirt, revealing a heavily tattooed and skinny torso that glistened with sweat under the lights. Wiz wasn’t the only one struggling with the heat—the venue was packed tight and grossly resembled a sauna. My friends and I were literally surrounded by a massive throng of moving bodies, and I had little choice but to get over my irrational fear of crowded spaces and focus instead on the performance and clever construction of space. Perhaps the most visually arresting aspect of the show was the stage’s backdrop, which consisted of four massive vertical panels hung at varying levels from the ceiling. Throughout the performance, each panel flashed bright and neon patterns. At one point, a rather iconic black and white image of Wiz blinking appeared on each of the four screens (see photo below). I immediately recognized the photo from an older cover of Rolling Stone magazine, which had named Khalifa “Hip-hop’s Rookie of the Year”. Also surreal was the DJ’s booth, which had been placed center stage. Like the four panels, it featured a similarly dazzling and changing display of images across its front. The presentation of lighting and imagery thus became a vital performer itself, as it created an unusual but captivating and psychedelic vibe that perfectly complimented Wiz’s wild theatricality.
As part of his theatrical performance, Khalifa remained intensely engaged with the audience. He tirelessly worked to amp up the crowd and make sure we had our hands up nice and high (cue my awkward attempts at being hardcore). Wiz also had a sidekick to help him out; throughout the entire performance a fellow artist—whom I didn’t recognize—rapped alongside Khalifa and contributed to most of the tracks. The two of them had great stage chemistry, which translated well to the audience and made the concert even more of a spectacle.
At one point, Wiz abruptly paused from his rapping/pelvic thrusts and plopped down on a speaker, looking rather haggard and worn. His sidekick, mildly concerned, approached Khalifa and asked how he was doing. Wiz, in a moment of sheer profoundness, replied: “I’m just too fucking high man” (see photo below). To this, the crowd went nuts, with plenty of enthusiastic hoots and hollering to show their collective support for the rapper's state of being. That hilarious moment will be forever ingrained in my mind. Although I should probably forgo any future attempts to “throw down” at a rap concert, Wiz Khalifa’s performance was truly unforgettable. Let’s be real, the kid has swag.
The hilarious encounter between Khalifa and his sidekick
(I am so pleased to have captured this moment on camera)
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