#assassinationvacation

From the beginning of queuing, to the tiring taxi journey home, the atmosphere around Resorts World was electric. Even from turning up to the surprisingly short line at midday, the weather-battered, homeless-looking groups of fans seemed to still be full of energy, despite clearly looking like they’ve been there since the early hours of the morning. However, as exciting as this day panned out to be, it slowly got less and less exciting as the wait grew more and more. Keeping us outside for an extra 1 and half hours wasn’t the best decision on the staff’s behalf. Nonetheless, as soon as my ticket was scanned and I was in, the excitement I reminisced at the beginning of waiting instantly came flooding back, and the buzz was back in the air. After grabbing food, drinks and any merchandise that took my fancy, then came probably the strangest way of moving to the standing area I’ve ever encountered. The first 100-or-so people in the queue were stamped and given a number on the way in, and these numbered people had to stand in another queue in numerical order. We were then told to walk towards the standing area, in a single file line without pushing, shoving or trying to run to the front. To be honest, I’m surprised we weren’t asked to sit in our rows with our legs crossed and our finger over our lips. It was as if I was back in first school. It also doesn’t do them any favours as we were given a safety brief before the acts came out. I couldn’t help but laugh to myself and ask ‘When has this ever happened at a concert before?’. Despite all of this, I secured my place at the barrier, trying my hardest not to let the girl behind me elbow her way in front of me. It was only then, at this moment in time, that it hit me, at the same time it hit everyone else. The main reason all 15,000 people were there, for one reason and one reason only: to wait a further 3 hours for the supporting act and Tory to finish and go mad when Drake comes out.

Baka was the only supporting act; and despite it wasn’t the largest, he drew in quite the crowd and was the perfect act to hype everyone up for the remaining artists to appear later on in the night. I couldn’t help but feel bad for Baka though. Even though his set was strong and consistent, it didn’t quite have that ‘wow’ factor as any other performer would. And the worst thing? There isn’t anything that he can do as of now that will help that. Because, in terms of concerts, the only way to impress a large audience from the get-go is to be well cemented into the industry, so to speak. As I was looking around the arena, I noticed that almost 3 quarters of the seats weren’t even filled, and simply because nobody cares about who’s on stage at this time. Especially if it is someone that they haven't even heard of, as I could hear a few people from way back in the standing section question who Baka even was. Which goes to show, in hip-hop, the fans are reserved for those who are on top of the game and know how to finesse the business. Which I think, is extremely unfair, but that point is for another time.

After an hour of Baka’s set, then came Tory Lanez. And with him, came along a lot more hype and anticipation. This point in the night is where the butterflies in your belly begin to shake violently with excitement, as a 5 foot 7 inch Canadian darts around the stage screaming into a microphone, dressed in a varsity jacket, skinny jeans and high top vans. Lanez’s music never fails to get you into that high-school-party, drunk-and-high-at-the-same-time, I-think-I-can-sing-esque mood, and this mood only heightens when you see him perform live. Girls were going crazy for him singing about the birds that he’s slept with on songs like LUV, Say it and recently released Freaky, and the lads were waiting for the mosh-pit bangers to come such as Shooters, Litty and Ferris Wheel. So his performance was unsurprisingly diverse, and could appeal to any listener. And with the addition of Baka before hand, it was strategic placing them together as Tory supported the hype that Baka had created perfectly. The best thing however, was the fact the security has to literally pick him up and throw him back on the stage after he’d been for a spot of crowd surfing. I was creasing at the fact that he could've probably jumped back up, but it was as if they threw him back up just to take the mick. His set then came to a close, and then came the final interval of the evening, with nobody else to perform other than the man of the hour, or 7 hours in this instance.

After about 30 minutes of standing around, the interval music came to a stop and the lights began to dim. This alone was enough to send the audience into hysterics, as they screamed at the top of their lungs recording nothing but an empty stage. But the stage wasn’t empty for long, however it wasn’t filled with a bearded rapper from Toronto, it was filled with a square curtain covering the entire stage floor being lowered from the ceiling. When it hit the floor, images of palm trees, coconuts and hula girls were vibrantly projected onto the curtain and the theme music to Austin Powers was played. At this moment, I wondered whether or not I was at the show. I was looking around to see if people were as confused as I was, but they all seemed to be hypnotised by the silhouettes of a horny spy. But as the projections disappeared, there happened to be somebody behind the curtain. Somebody tall, in a Louis Vuitton assault vest, holding a microphone. Seeing this outline made the crowd even more hysterical. It was at this moment that the introduction of 8 out of 10 began playing, and then the figure came to life, rapping along to it. Because I was stood at the barrier, I could see slightly through the curtain and could easily tell that the figure was Drake, if it wasn’t obvious enough. After the first verse ended, the curtain was raised to reveal the 6 God himself, live in the flesh. A part of me couldn’t believe it. That was the real Drake, stood a couple of meters in front of me. And as his performance went on, it wasn’t settling in any more.

Drake’s live performances are a priceless experience. From the clever use of pyrotechnics to the talented back up dancers that accompanied him on stage, you can clearly tell that Drake is at his best when he is on stage. Despite this, it pains me to admit that I felt his show was rushed and disorganised. Some songs were left unfinished, which was a shame because the older Drake songs on the set list (arguably his best era) were played for about 10 seconds each. To rub salt in the wound, they were all played with no breaks or intermission between each other. So in a sense, there was no real point in playing them at all. It was almost as if he had somewhere much better to be than there. Because of this, I found it hard at times to engage with him and with what he was doing, even though I desperately wanted to. Nevertheless, he still managed to put out an exceptional performance of his recent music. The transitions between certain tracks were executed smoothly, and his delivery of them were executed even more so. I really managed to notice the diversity of Drake as an artist whilst watching him, which is a skill I see many other rappers attempt but fail. He can easily perform a song such as Jumpman with the expected energy and charisma, and then manage to calm himself and the arena down with a soft and soppy performance of Peak. He can have any audience on strings and is in complete control of how they act and feel throughout his performance. To obtain this skill to such a degree is something that no other musician has, which is one of the many reasons that Drake is the best performer out of today’s generation of rappers; and probably the best rapper out of them too. But again, that’s for another time.