Things were going great.
Support DJ Mafia set the mood with trap staples – cuts including Pop That, N***as In Paris, Bugatti, Mercy (RL Grime x Salva mix) – all approaching their trend expiration date, but they felt perfect preceding the Trap Lord’s arrival.
The sense of scope was immense, belying the relative confines of the venue as A$AP Ferg took centre stage, all-white outfit replete with gas mask. True spectacle, powerful showmanship, the call and response dynamic in overdrive, maintaining an awe-inducing performance that felt like it could carry throughout the entirety of the set. Each song felt like an event. We threw our praying hands up for Persian Wine. The karaoke versions of A$AP Rocky’s Wild For The Night and Goldie got a pass, only just.
The momentum hit an almost terminal lull with the invitation for stage invasion. The act is an intrinsic part to rap performances, but the timing (well before set close or encore) and demeanour didn’t sit right tonight. Shit, it was boring. About the time Ferg demanded all the white girls get off the stage, I took respite in the bathroom, where a backpacker geezer asked me if I had any “draw”, which I guess is British for weed?
He took affront that I didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about, so I hightailed in back into the fray. The second half of the set was a looser affair, losing a little bit of the overwhelming impact of the first portion. He toyed with Schoolboy Q’s Man Of The Year beat with minimal success. The crowd belted out the opening Biggie homage on Work.
A pair of young aspiring rappers were pulled from the crowd for a turn at freestyling, which didn’t go as horrible as it could have. Ferg then took his turn at freestyling, showing brief flashes of Migos flow towards the end, before setting us up for Shabba. It’s one of the most potent rap bangers of recent memory, and the crowd went suitably wild.
We got the Bone Thugs-invoking Cocaine Castle in the encore. It’s Ferg at his personal, but the hook isn’t as strong as the excellent, similarly crooned Hood Pope, which didn’t get an airing tonight for some indiscernible reason. Work received a seemingly spontaneous repeat performance, which was somewhat beguiling, but still managing to muster frenzy.
Fergie retreated backstage to await those who shelled out the extra clams for a meet and greet as the DJ turned on a set of EDM bangers, instigating a pretty intense mosh circle. Music is strange right now.
BY A$AP LACHY
Photo by Ben Clement
Loved: Ferg’s initial shock and awe stage presence.
Hated: No Hood Pope.
Drank: No Jesus juice.
