Take a self-described “Trap Lord,” his thumping beats and hard-hitting rhymes. Stick him in front of hundreds of VCU kids on the eve of Thanksgiving break. Sit back and watch the madness or get in the middle of it and jump up and down. It’s really that simple.
Take a self-described “Trap Lord,” his thumping beats and hard-hitting rhymes. Stick him in front of hundreds of VCU kids on the eve of Thanksgiving break. Sit back and watch the madness or get in the middle of it and jump up and down. It’s really that simple.
An energetic, laser-focused A$AP Ferg brought Atlanta’s Playboi Carti (using the moniker of Cash Carti) and their Turnt & Burnt tour to The National Tuesday. And the Supreme-wearing, every-lyric-knowing hip hop kids of Richmond went nuts.
Carti deserves a good deal of credit himself. The 20-year old has quickly built up a following without even a proper mixtape to his name. This concert-goer, at least, was surprised by the crowd’s familiarity with his work. He looks and sounds like fellow Atlantan 21 Savage but with the world-weary, extraterrestrial vibes of early-decade Future. It’s yet another testament to the breadth of energy and talent still flowing out of the ATL.
He admitted he was “high as fuck,” but brought an infectious intensity even to some of the lower-tempo numbers. His “Fetti” was a crowd favorite.
But it was Ferg’s show in title and performance. He largely stuck to his most recent album, April’s “Always Strive and Prosper,” with tracks like “Hungry Ham” and the Migos-featuring “Back Hurt,” moving around the stage bent over to demonstrate how all those racks do, in fact, make his back hurt.
But he also went back to 2013’s “Trap Lord” and his 2014 mixtape “Ferg Forever,” imploring his “day-ones” to prove it by rapping along. They did.
Whatever Ferg lacks in rhyme complexity he makes up with impeccable flow and a deep, booming voice. His raps land with force, a great example of this being his 2013 anthem “Fuck Out MY Face.” It’s a classic New York hardcore sound (and, some might say, attitude) with some of the city’s Caribbean influence creeping into his delivery. And who doesn’t want to jump up and down yelling “Get the fuck out my motherfucking face?”
His focus showed up in the smoothness of the set. He moved quickly from song to song, not in a rush to collect a check and take off, but rather to give the fans what they came for without long-winded intros and trangents. In other words, the show was all music, no bullshit.
He did, however, take a very brief break to address the election results.
“You hold the power,” he told the crowd. “Don’t be scared. … Fuck that racism shit. Our generation don’t give a fuck about that. The only colors we care about are green and pink, that’s money and pussy.”
The crowd seemed to agree.
And then, finally, came the hits, that Caribbean influence taking center stage on his 2013 smash “Shabba,” an ode to the Jamaican dancehall artist.
It and “Work” are almost perfect concert songs. With thunderous bass and choruses that are chanted more than they’re rapped, it’s hard to hear them live and not go nuts.
The whole theatre bounced and shook, Ferg signed off and the crowd thanked the Trap Lord for his blessings.
