This article was written by Emerald contributor Hannah Steinkopf-Frank.
In the aftermath of police shootings and the deaths of unarmed black civilians, Chicago rapper Mick Jenkins has a simple method to cope: Drink more water.
It’s a message he first developed on his breakout 2014 mixtape, The Water[s], and that he has continued to emphasize on his debut album, The Healing Component, released on Sept. 23. During his Oct. 1 concert at the Doug Fir Lounge in Portland, the phrase was his rallying cry as he tried to find, and deliver, salvation through love.
The show was the second stop on his Red Bull Sound Select Presents: A Quest for Love Tour with St. Louis rapper Smino (aka Chris Smith Jr.). In a press release, Jenkins said the tour and its title came from “Just trying to see how much love is out there in the world in a time where we need it the most.”
While Jenkins said talking about love in this way is a bit cheesy, in a time when people have to argue that black lives matter, any sort of tenderness becomes radical. Despite the current sociopolitical climate, Smino and Jenkins focused on healing, be it through love, humor or even anger.
Wearing a jersey for Portland Trail Blazers point guard Damian Lillard, Smino fit right in, joking that because it was his birthday the next day, he was going to join the crowd to party after his set. The mood was light, particularly as he told a story about “being in a predicament” because he “put his stick in it” without a condom before jumping into “Raw,” a track about the aftermath of this misjudgment.
Smino didn’t hold back from diving into darker themes. Before performing “Oxygen,” he had all of the lights turned off and had the audience raise their phones, illuminating him in white light. It was an appropriately somber moment for the sparse song, which explores the racism he has experienced as well as his depression following his father’s death. In the chorus, he raps, “He just a thug/ Let ’em die in the streets/ Cigarette butts, glass and rocks in my teeth/And I’m choking out, I need oxygen please.”
Mick Jenkins at the Doug Fir Lounge. (Hannah Steinkopf-Frank/Emerald)
This push and pull through the highs and lows of life continued during Jenkins’ set. Starting with “Jazz,” he seemed to be judging his peers, calling them actors and accusing them of “talking all that jazz” without changing the reality they rap about.
It’s clear that Jenkins sees himself differently. It might be presumptuous to release an album claiming to have found the solution, the “healing component,” to continued oppression and hate. But at 6-foot-5, Jenkins is more of a gentle giant trying to share a simple gospel, as on The Healing Component standout song “Spread Love.” He raps, “And they be asking, ‘What do love got to do with the point?’ It’s the soothe in your water, it’s the truth in your joint.”
Most often, the love is romantic: Jenkins said that many of the songs were written about his girlfriend of the past two years. As a lover, Jenkins is smooth, specifically on “Communicate,” the album’s one true pop track. The live drums provided a thumping groove as he rapped, “Call you bae/ And I don’t mean the San Francisco type.”
Unlike Smino’s high-energy performance, Jenkins sauntered around the stage, with the audience as his congregation, screaming “Drink more water” with a level of fervor not normally seen in a city defined by its “chillness.” For the record, Jenkins was drinking Fiji Water. He was backed by his own choir: Singing trio American Foster Child brought some of the album’s soulful production to the basement venue.
The religious connections were more than musical. Along with fellow Chicagoan Chance the Rapper, Jenkins is part of the wave of rappers exploring spirituality through personal, confessional raps. On “Martyrs,” Jenkins describes the violence in his home city (“All the little niggas got guns now”) and how many current rappers think happiness can only be found through consumerism. Jenkins, on the other hand, searches for a purer love and admits, “I pray it’s never too preachy but I’m preaching.”
Mick Jenkins performs at the Doug Fir Lounge. (Hannah Steinkopf-Frank/Emerald)
At the same time, he doesn’t hold himself on a pedestal: He’s a relatable preacher when he confesses his faults. On “1000 Xans,” he admits he has turned to drugs to cope. (The acronym of “The Healing Component,” THC, carries a very different meaning.) Many in Portland could relate to the line “In some circles misconceptions make ‘em think my inspiration herbal, it’s not/ I mean sometimes it is.”
What Jenkins proves is you don’t have to be perfect to carry a message, to make change. In a rap landscape focused on image, he looked modest in a white T-shirt and jeans and said that he’s excited for when he can bring a larger crew of musicians on tour.
He ended his set jumping into the audience as his crew danced, abandoning their instruments and microphones for their phones to send Snapchats. Jenkins got lost in the crowd of converted followers before eventually making his way back to the stage.
He finished not with a song but with a request: For those who enjoyed the performance to shout “Drink more water” as loudly as they could.
The words echoed as Jenkins unceremoniously exited. The audience continued dancing, spreading the love.
