This is not the kind of mutability we associate with David Bowie or Prince, or even Andy Warhol and Madonna. His brand is no brand, a shrewd marketing of independence that often seems a lot like a brand. But that he's done it without appearing cloying - that he seems approachable, eager to be all things to all people, and not too insistent - is his greatest feat. All of this is funneled through a constant online presence that is complex, promotional yet nuanced, agreeable yet opinionated, blunt yet familial. He is a broad pop culture figure who also remains woven into a tight, Chicago-centered collaborative circle. He is a national act who also maintains an intimately Chicago footprint.
"Are there really this many Chance the Rapper fans in Greensboro?" he asks, and it sounds a lot like spontaneity, which in a 22,000-seat arena is practically the same thing.Ĭultural ubiquity in 2017 requires more than a popular record.Ĭhance the Rapper has become a cultural nesting doll, occupying many spaces simultaneously and seamlessly. He's a lot of different things at one time, reminding you over the course of a 90-minute performance he is from Chicago, and a friend of Kanye West, and a religious person, and a father, and an internet phenomenon, and a humble collaborator his band, the Social Experiment, are also his longtime Chicago friends. He asks audiences if they want to go to heaven, and he doesn't mean metaphorically. He introduces 4-year-old songs as being recorded "when we were broke kids." He sings about his grandmother, encourages friends to hug friends. He tells stories about growing up in Chatham as light piano trills in the background.
His earnestness wafts off the stage, but not annoyingly so. As Josephine Lee, artistic director of the Chicago Children's Choir (and Chance collaborator), later said: "I think everyone is looking for someone to lead our divided society, and Chance, he's got almost a Dalai Lama thing."Ĭhance's shows, said DJ Oreo, the Chicago DJ who served as ringleader on the spring tour, "are about giving you more than you came for." Chance, who in six years has graduated from open mics at the Harold Washington Library to nationwide headliner, is a self-deprecating, everyman presence. They regard him with a not-entirely secular reverence, noting the goodwill and hopefulness they draw from him.