Big K.R.I.T., Joey Badass + Action Bronson at The Trocadero Theatre
Thurs., June 20. the troc.com
Overall vibe: The last bastion of authentic hip-hop and lyrical wizardry, albeit amidst a sea of scrawny white kids and snapback hats. Two unique, rising stars from New York prepped the stage for Big K.R.I.T., who is singlehandedly saving Southern rap from an overly simplified, ironic trap culture.
Most memorable moment: Bronson requesting “weed … immediately!” as the crowd assailed him with a barrage of blunts, joints and spliffs. He went on to bless the audience with esoteric ‘90s-era boombap flows and a comedic, larger-than-life stage presence.
Scene stealer: K.R.I.T., who energized the crowd with clever rhymes and rapid-fire delivery. Thankfully, he eschewed introspective material, opting instead to deliver his refreshing take on candy paint cars and Southern living. Though he may have stolen the show, the presentation of three particularly diverse styles was equally rewarding. (Drew O’Meara)
Rancid at Electric Factory
Sat., June 22. electricfactory.info
Overall vibe: Like a great band in its twilight, Rancid’s live show was a mix of 21 years of their singles, cult favorites and on-stage silence as the crowd at the sold-out Factory took lead vocals.
Most memorable moment: Just a single new song (which was awesome—it’s called “Fuck You”) and a mix of the best of their past eight albums. It, like a horde of punk shows I’ve been to over the last couple years, was sardine can-packed with die-hard fans reliving the glory of our youth, not the green-haired high school punks that used to circulate from NOFX to Lagwagon to Rancid on any given weekend.
Scene stealer: Ten years ago, punk shows made me feel old. Now, I fit right in. Today’s teens aren’t about to start listening to a bunch of old dudes singing shit from the ‘90s, but a bunch of 20- and 30-somethings who grew up on Radio Radio Radio are. Halfway through, I realized it wasn’t just one of the last times Rancid would play in Philadelphia, but one of the last punk shows I’d probably ever attend. So, when the obese dude with a shaved skull interlocked his fingers and bent down in front of me—the universal sign to boost one overhead for crowd surfing— during “Olympia, Washington,” I raised a leg and let destiny take over. (Randy LoBasso)
You heard wrong: Stars aren’t blind