Mac Miller’s not a frat rapper anymore. His last two albums —2013’s Watching Movies With The Sound Off and this year’s GO:OD AM — are far more introspective and serious than the unambitious party raps he’s still best-known for. But the material from these records relies heavily on his lyricism, whereas his older work, epitomized by his hugely successful debut Blue Slide Park, relies more on his flow and anthemic choruses.
With Miller’s lyrics usually drowned out by either a hype man or the venue’s titanic bass, there wasn’t much to focus on at his McDonald Theater show this last Friday, Nov. 6.
The McDonald sound system is far more suited for the bangers the in-house DJ queued up between sets than for the sort of subtle, low-key lyrical rap Miller’s been peddling lately. Throughout the night, Miller’s beats sounded fantastic, but his voice was consistently drowned out by the bass. Someone unfamiliar with Miller might walk in and have an experience not terribly different from most other rap shows without learning anything about Miller himself. His greatest strengths — his way with words, his relentlessly eager voice — were barely audible.
There wasn’t much to watch onstage either. Though he didn’t seem disinterested, Miller isn’t anything special as a performer, and he mostly paced a small area of maybe ten square feet throughout the night as his hype men burned hundreds of calories running from one end of the stage to the others.
His decision not to use a prerecorded vocal track was admirable, but it ultimately didn’t contribute anything to the performance. More interesting than Miller himself was the creative light show, aided by a few pyramidal props adorned with pictures of Miller’s face.
Perhaps the most disheartening part of Miller’s performance was just how alienating it was.
The best hip hop shows foster a communal spirit, to the point that the experience of being in the crowd is often more exciting than actually watching the performer, and much of this stems from artist-audience interactions. Miller did little of this aside from occasional entreaties for the audience to put their hands in the air. For the most part, this was just a guy standing on a stage rapping.
More interesting was opener Domo Genesis. A lesser-known Odd Future member, he brought everything that made his old group great to the stage: gorgeous beats, a likable persona, a random sense of humor (he sang “Smells Like Teen Spirit” at one point for some reason).
He even showed some impressive singing chops, cutting through the fuzzy sound system with a dancehall-inflected vocal style that puts him in league with contemporary rappa-turnt-sangas Fetty Wap and Young Thug. Genesis’s strengths were clear during his set. With Miller, it was difficult to tell what his strengths even were.