It’s not often one gets to see a rapper that has mastered the art of live performance. A one-man-show has to be especially engaging to capture my attention, and Yelawolf hit the mark over and over.
The Alabama-raised MC, born Michael Wayne Atha, set the pace for his performance before he even stepped on stage. After Allday’s frankly ho-hum and stylistically mismatched show, the curtain lifted at the Corner Hotel to reveal a smoke enshrouded stage and mic stand, stock standard green and blue light piercing the mysterious fog. A pseudo-trap beat I was unfamiliar with started playing, and Yelawolf rushed onto the stage and jumped around hyping the crowd. His attire suggested a strange marriage twixt hillbilly, punk and hip hop, which is also a damn good way of describing his music. The self-dubbed Catfish Billy then stood still and silent, his outfit plus beard and sunglasses doing the talking for him. He crept over to the DJ desk, grabbed two VB bottles, walked to front centre stage and took a sip. He then sprayed both bottles into the crowd and launched into his verse from Hard White.
Yelawolf’s stage persona switches between hyper aggressive and offensively gregarious. During Pop Da Trunk he lifted the mic stand to allow the super pumped crowd to sing the hook and chorus, then sprayed the crowd again with Victoria’s finest and leapt into the crowd. After indulging the lost art of stagediving and forcing his unwilling stage manager to do the same, Yelawolf announced that the next track would be Billy Crystal, his ode to a meth head (possibly himself). The crowd went wild and he pulled a random punter onto the stage, after asking if anybody knew the words. After thrice-confirming that he did, the track began and he left the punter to it, while removing most of his own clothes. If the special stage guest was nervous, he barely showed it while a half-naked, heavily-tattooed hip hop hillbilly danced around and stagedived once more.
At some point during this routine, Yelawolf’s headgear went missing. He refused to continue until his “Dixie rag” was returned to him, even leaving the stage for five minutes until in turned up.
Yelawolf’s ultra-technical hillbilly-slang-laden style is an absolute pleasure to hear. It is complemented well by his excellent beat selection and pop-gangsta hooks and choruses. It’s an almost perfect juxtaposition of redneck, hip hop and punk, both stylistically and vibe-wise. His live show must be seen to be appreciated fully, and I truly believe that his gregarious persona and on-stage banter could win any crowd over.
BY REI BARKER
LOVED: Yelawolf.
HATED: The end of the set.
DRANK: A bottle of Jack Daniels. YOLO.
