Danny Brown
3Olympia Theatre, Dublin
★★★★★
The most tormented people I knew as a teenager worshipped Danny Brown. He felt like an artist who had gone into the depths of hell and come back with something wild and unique.
His technical brilliance was obvious from the first listen, but, more than that, it was the way he approached familiar rap tropes – addiction, sex – in a way that was urgent, bleak and acidly funny. Listening to him was exhilarating but also troubling. This was the music of someone close to the edge.
If my teenage self could have been at his show at the 3Olympia on Thursday night I wouldn’t have believed it. Not only is he still with us, but he’s making hyperpop. Starburst may be his first entirely sober album, but there’s nothing subdued about it.
When he opens on to the title track, the energy is immediate. Shirtless, in skinny white jeans, he darts across the stage with a wiry momentum. The new material dominates early on – Flowers, Green Light, Lift You Up – their choruses instantly sung back.
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The sound is maximalist, euphoric, sugar-rush intense, but the performance never loses its core. What’s most striking is how immaculately he raps over some of the strangest, most abstract beats without backing vocals. He’s pushing himself into difficult territory, but the speed and precision remain astonishing.
Tracks from XXX and Old slot in seamlessly: the gleefully deranged, pure pornography of I Will is a high point; Smokin & Drinkin turns the room into a chant; Dip tips into a mosh. The older songs sit surprisingly well alongside the newer material; it doesn’t feel like a departure so much as a continuation of instincts he has always had, mainly an instinct for fun. Even the darkest, most corrosive tracks, such as Ain’t It Funny, reveal themselves to be danceable.
[ Danny Brown: uknowhatimsayin¿ review – A stylistic switcherooOpens in new window ]
What has really changed is the crowd. It’s surprisingly young, about the age I was when I first found him, but the atmosphere feels completely different. The teenagers here seem queer and fun, whereas I remember the mood being repressed-slash-depressed. That shift feels significant. It suggests something rare: an artist able to reinvent himself without alienating his audience, pulling in a new one while keeping the old in orbit.
Outside, in the smoking area, I talk to a couple of guys from Belfast in their early 30s, long-time fans. They’re less convinced by the new direction. It’s not what they’re into sonically. But their admiration remains at the forefront. He can still surprise them, still push into new territory.
By the time he closes with All4U, the mood turns emotional. You can feel the weight behind it, the sense that none of this came easily. “Y’all ain’t no fans, y’all made me a man,” he says, pointing into the crowd, repeating “Now I do it all for you”. There’s no need for cloying, rehearsed speeches. The gratitude is apparent.
And that, ultimately, is what you want from any performer: the sense that they’re having fun doing what they do, that they find it meaningful and that they’re thankful to the audience for allowing them to keep doing what they’re so good at.
