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The Working Class Hero
Chance the Rapper closed this year’s Pitchfork Fest with a spectacular homecoming performance that was simultaneously #PeakChicago and #PeakBlackness. While his show appealed to the masses, at its heart, it was for Black Chicago.
Chicago is, inarguably, in the midst of a black arts renaissance, a coalescing across all mediums. Renowned artist Theaster Gates has set up an incubator for emerging visual artists. Organizations like Young Chicago Authors, Kuumba Lynx, and YOUmedia (which counts Chance as an alum and now major donor) have produced many of the city’s emerging writers and musical artists. While reductive conversations about Chicago’s gun violence cast a shadow on the city in the national imagination, the arts renaissance destroys the singular media narrative of the city.
The cultural and political realities of the city have functioned as a backdrop to Chance’s post-Acid Rap ascent: he’s the prodigal son, often posited as the foil to fellow Southside native and the media’s go-to strawman Chief Keef. The hackneyed media juxtapositions of Chance and Keef are lazy and take the focus off addressing the root causes of gun violence, and the city’s long history of institutional racism and systemic disenfranchisement.
Amid this, Black Chicago having a moment of indelible shine is a necessary and logical response, one of pride and resistance.
This past Sunday, during his headlining closing set at Pitchfork, Chance’s performance cut through all of the noise and gave the city a set that was irreverent, loyal, and powerful. I’ve never felt more proud to be a Chicagoan than I did watching Chance that night.
Chance opened up with "Home Studio (Back Up in This bytch)", fitting for this homecoming show and what he says will be his only Chicago performance in 2015. Over the course of an hour, he gave constant shoutouts to Chicago, as "the crib" and the place that informed every aspect of his approach, and then underscored it all by speaking in the lingua franca of Summertime Chi (juke beats) and a movement borne of the Southside—footwork. With his choice of featured guests, the show was unapologetically Black and, above all, crafted for those of us who have called Chicago home all of our lives.
Chance’s highly curated set covered hits from 10 Day, Acid Rap, Surf, and his various features. The set was a major team effort with a nearly 50-person team. No stone was left unturned for this show. There were dazzling lights, an awe-inspiring visual aesthetic, top-notch choreography, musical accompaniment from Donnie Trumpet, Peter Cottontale, and Nate Fox and vocals from Jamila Woods and Eryn Allen Kane.
For his version of "Wonderful Everyday", Chance welcomed Chicago’s Bucket Boys to the stage; it signified Chance’s history of lifting up Chicago talent and culture that often goes unrecognized in national discussions of the city. The Bucket Boys started in the mid-'90s in one of Chicago’s toughest public housing complexes, the Robert Taylor Homes. Many of them live below the poverty line in underserved neighborhoods and depend on the cash they receive from performances. To see them on stage at one of the city's largest musical festivals affirmed the vitality and resiliency of these young men.
Other highlights include his performance of "Hey Ma" with a tweaked beat that included Kanye’s "Hey Mama" and Chance’s mother in the wings of the stage taking it all in. His performance of "Everybody’s Somebody" brought the crowd together waving their hands in unison. Other crowd favorites were "Acid Rap" and the encore performance of "Chain Smoker".
The big surprise cameo of Chance’s set was not a much-rumored Kanye, it was gospel superstar Kirk Franklin—which Chance mentioned was a surprise for his grandmother. While not a Chicago native, his music can be heard as one drives through the city’s West and South Sides on any given Sunday. Franklin’s appearance was the blackest moment of the night, the performance of "Sunday Candy", the jewel of the evening. With its gospel feel and juke break, it's a song that could’ve only been created by a Chicago native. Franklin stuck around to add vocals as the Social Experiment crew did a beautiful rendition of the song. The performance was meticulously planned with a gospel choir cloaked in white robes, and Jamila Woods owned the crowd with her silvery voice during the hook.
Chance’s set felt as though the audience had been given an exclusive invitation to a personal celebration. This homecoming performance comes after the success of Surf, which was one of the most anticipated albums of the year. With three major projects under his belt, Chance is at the apex of his career and the only way for him to go is up. What better way to celebrate than a next-leveling homecoming show?
Throughout the set, Chance assured his audience, "This is your performance." For black Chicagoans, it was more than a performance, it was a triumph cloaked as a love letter. It’s paradigm was entirely black, and Southside, at a time where that identity is constantly under attack, and while it appealed to all the fans at Pitchfork, Chance’s writ-large aim was to give for Black Chicago. For everyone who grew up listening to the juke mixes on WGCI; bought a fruit bag from the guy at the intersection; walked down Madison & Pulaski, licked the dusty red film of Vitner’s hot curls from their fingers; learned to footwork at a roller rink in Markham; debated whether Harold’s or Uncle Remus is better and go crazy when old-school house comes on. It was for those who see Chicago’s "broken nose", who survive in this broken city and still find it beautiful. What Chance did was for us.
Chance the Rapper's Set at Pitchfork was #PeakBlackness and #PeakChicago
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