It’s been nearly two years since Azealia Banks burst through with the all-conquering 212. In that time, Banks has been relatively unproductive in the age of rappers’ prolificacy. There has been the middling mixtape, Fantasea, and the solid yet perfunctory EP 1991. People also grew to dislike Azealia Banks. I tried not to, but I did. I like Azealia as an aesthete, heck, I don’t even mind the #seapunk bullshit (in effect tonight via slick onstage projections). I wasn’t offended when she called Perez Hilton a “messy faggot”. Some were. Maybe the same people that were offended by Eminem’s liberal use of the word “faggot”, and maybe the same that were offended by Tyler, The Creator’s similar affection for the word. Maybe not. But I sense a growing wilful, contradictory ignorance emerging on Banks’ Twitter feed (I feel dirty for writing that, but don’t act like it’s not a factor in fandom). One day, Banks questions the value of institutionalised education and the next she is perplexed at how the division of zero is undefined. She chastises the media for fixating on her unfiltered, beef-instigating tweets. It began to seem like Azealia Banks isn’t dangerous nor transgressive, but rather she is just an idiot. Tonight at The Palace, Azealia proved that she can walk the walk with a solid, if somewhat brief, performance.
The main motivation for heading to the show tonight was to have a social outing with my siblings, my older financial planner sister and my younger sports management (I think? He does some shit with Cricket Australia) brother. Banks is one of the rare acts that sits tidily in the centre of our Venn diagram. It was nice, this family outing. I try to explain what trap is to my sister during Nina Las Vegas’ opening set. I drink a bit too much.
Azealia hits the stage and she looks great. Great weave, great outfit, great dancers. She sounds great too. Straddling the line between rapper who sings and dance act who raps, she bookends her set with the Prodigy sampling Out Of Space and a 212 coda of Firestarter. She will join The Prodigy at Future Music Festival at the set for a performance of the latter on the following Saturday.
There isn’t much in the way of new album material tonight. As is the trend in rap at the moment, Banks’ commercial full-length debut has been beset by delays.
Tonight Banks managed to maintain her great sense of promise, despite all superfluities. Or is it that the promise has been delivered? Is the concept of a full-length, commercial LP a mere MacGuffin in this climate? Shit, is an interesting Twitter feed more tenable in this climate?
BY LACHLAN KANONIUK
Photo credit: Ben Clement
LOVED: Liquorice.
HATED: Regardless of label politicking, Banks’ Harlem Shake just isn’t any good.
DRANK: Beer.
