Jay-Z at Frank Erwin Center
Lots of love in the heart of the city
For all his diamond-encrusted swagger, for all his exhortations that he’s not a businessman but a business, man, and for all his straight-faced comparisons between himself and everyone from Julius Caesar to Frank Sinatra to God Almighty, Jay-Z has a surprising humble streak. It’s not evident in his music—and it’s certainly not evident in his massive stage show, a spectacle of sound and vision that found him playing in front of towering video screens arranged in a generic urban landscape (because Jigga runs every city, you see). But it’s clear from the way he interacts with his audience that he’s genuinely grateful for their support, no matter how much he may seem above it all. It’s a tricky balancing act between hubris and humility that few hip-hop artists know how to pull off—and it’s the reason that none of them is as successful as Jay-Z.
In the few moments of relative calm during his thundering Frank Erwin Center show, the man privately known as Shawn Carter bashfully pawed at the ground while talking about his humble origins, encouraging everyone to—although he acknowledged it was a cliché—learn from his example, chase their dreams, and ignore that ever-lingering spectral threat, “the haters.” By show’s end, he’d dropped his rock star façade, removed his trademark sunglasses to peer unguardedly into the packed house, and spent 10-plus minutes pointing out individual people to thank them personally. Maybe that display in itself is a façade—to make your fans feel like they’re your friends, even if they’re really just “homeboy in the Yankees jersey”—but within the context of a show where the audience response bordered on religious zeal, it was genuinely touching: the hand of the mighty reaching down to bless the meek.
Without further invoking blasphemous rumors, it’s safe to say that Jay-Z’s popularity has officially crossed over to idolatry; for proof, just look at those hand symbols. At one point, he thanked everyone for helping to make The Blueprint 3, his eleventh No. 1 album—a feat that officially supplants Elvis Presley as the most popular solo recording artist in history (“Elvis really has left the building,” he joked before adding, “I’m going to hell for that”)—and while it’s doubtful that we’ll be converting his Manhattan loft into a mausoleum in 50 years (unless he starts getting a whole lot weirder, like, immediately), or that Vegas will someday be crowded with Jay-Z impersonators, it’s certainly easy to draw parallels between Jay-Z’s recent return to recording and Elvis’ own legendary comeback in ’68. And stacking them decibel to decibel, the ear-shattering peals of applause still reverberating from last night might even give Jay the advantage. It’s also hard to imagine Elvis, even in his heyday, moving a crowd to that sort of starry-eyed genuflection: throwing up their “diamonds” unprompted, doing the “gangsta two-step” en masse, taking the shirts from their own back just to have something to whip around at his command… Jay-Z more than worked the crowd—he put it to work, and it thanked him for the opportunity.
The lyrics, too, were echoed back to him in a liturgical frenzy, including an entire tongue-twisting verse by the late Pimp C on the seminal “Big Pimpin’”—and how embarrassing would it have been if Texas had failed him on that one? But even while navigating a breathless, stream-of-consciousness medley of “On To The Next One,” “Excuse Me Miss,” “Venus Vs. Mars,” “’03 Bonnie And Clyde,” ”Lucifer,” “Swagga Like Us,” and “Can I Get A...,” it never once skipped a line, having already absorbed songs that are barely three months old into the Jigga catechism. And when Jay-Z specifically reached down and asked the crowd to help him out, to be his choir—to sing UT’s fight song before offering his own (“D.O.A.”), to divide themselves into vying forces of “Jigga what?” and “Jigga who?”, to take themselves to church on the chorus of “Heart Of The City”—the converted became the ordained, and things reached a fever pitch as intoxicating as any gospel service.
Absolute adoration has a tendency to corrupt—just ask the Catholics—but for his part, Jay-Z played the benevolent master, sticking to songs that presupposed his greatness and reveled in his own glories without worrying about the naysayers (no “Streets Is Watching” tonight), but also sharing the wealth. Longtime sidekick Memphis Bleek helped bring the house down with the first punishing beats of “U Don’t Know,” and while their doubling down rendered a lot of the lyrics less intelligible than when Jay-Z flew solo, the show took on a crackling feral energy whenever he was around. The far more impish Pharrell Williams (who got his own chance to shine earlier in N.E.R.D.) brought a considerably sexier, lighter touch to his duet on “So Ambitious,” bounding around stage and even playing guest conductor to Jay’s 10-piece backing band. (Though someone obviously forgot to introduce him to the confused security guard, who ambled over to remove him when Pharrell popped back through for an impromptu encore.) And Jay gave extra-special attention to protégé opener J. Cole—whose 10-minute warm-up shortly after doors opened was laughably called an “opening slot”—turning his guest verse on “A Star Is Born” into a virtual coronation. He did the same again for Bridget Kelly, a tiny lady handed the unenviable task of recreating Alicia Keys’ soaring “Empire State Of Mind” hook, rightfully pointing out that she’d “put some extra barbecue sauce on it for Texas.”
Those searching for Icarus-like stumbles will have to content themselves with the usual complaints against latter-day Jay, which is that when the dude gets sentimental, he’s downright corny. “Already Home,” for example, may be a well-intentioned acknowledgment of the love he receives from all corners of the globe, but that didn’t save it from being the drizzle that doused the fire sparked by “Heart Of The City”—and it felt lumpy and leaden next to the ode to Jay’s actual home in “Empire State Of Mind.” And after the energetic pop-off of an all-too-brief sing-along of “Hard Knock Life” and the rousing “Encore”—and especially after the cruel tease of thanking his band as the “Roc boys in the building tonight” without launching into that song—“Young Forever” was a relatively sappy note to go out on. But these are just minor complaints, spurred by only by their comparison to the unstoppable energy of everything that came barreling down before it. And as we saw, Jay-Z can’t help getting sentimental; deep down, he’s just a great big softie with lots of love to give, and it’s why so many love him back.
Set list:
“Run This Town”
“D.O.A. (Death Of Auto-Tune)”
“U Don’t Know”
“99 Problems”
“Show Me What You Got”
“I Just Wanna Love U (Give It 2 Me)”
“Diamond Is Forever”
“Jigga My Nigga”
“Izzo (H.O.V.A.)”
“Jigga What, Jigga Who”
“Public Service Announcement”
“Heart Of The City
“Already Home”
“Empire State Of Mind”
“A Star Is Born”
“So Ambitious”
“Dirt Off Your Shoulder”
ENCORE:
“Thank You”
Medley: “On To the Next One,” “Excuse Me Miss,” “Venus Vs. Mars,” “‘03 Bonnie And Clyde,” “Lucifer,” Swagga Like Us,” “Can I Get A…?”
“Big Pimpin’”
“Hard Knock Life (Ghetto Anthem)”
“Numb/Encore”
“Young Forever”
