GREENSBORO — This wasn’t the same J. Cole.
Somewhere it struck me. Somewhere between the impromptu road trip, which that took me back to my college town with new acquaintances, following a three-hour thunderstorm delay that jeopardized the concert, and eventually seeing the masses that waited out the storm flock back to White Oak Amphitheatre, it struck me.
It struck me that J. Cole had ascended to a new plateau.
No, this wasn’t revealed to me because of the scantily clad 20-something woman nearby on the lawn, belting out every word as if it were written just for her, sporadically screaming, “I love you, baby.”
Saturday night in Greensboro, Cole put on one of those shows you tell people about as a moment. For me, it was when I realized he may be onto something for the long haul.
Putting Cole’s accolades aside, including this year’s Grammy nomination, the most striking thing about the brilliant performance he put on as the headliner was the polish it of it all.
This wasn’t the same rapper I saw in October in Charlotte, nor was he the same rapper that’s made the late-night television rounds since September’s release of “Cole World: The Sideline Story.” The rapper I saw Saturday seemed so far removed from the modest venues he’d cut his teeth in, because he was every bit the rock star his accolades would have you believe.
Throughout the show, Cole was the ringmaster of an extremely polished circus. He commanded the stage differently. He commanded the audience differently. He — along with an awesome live band and DJ Dummy — even sounded different. What was even more interesting was the wide net of fans that had been hauled in, clinging to his every bar.
This was the epitome of crossover, and it had never been so clear to me that Cole had achieved that. Sure, there’s Jay-Z, the big name behind him, but I had never seen the crowds and response that correlate with that clout until Saturday. The singles weren’t just doing gangbusters. It was the introspective mixtape cuts that resonated with people as well.
What was plainly obvious was the work he had put in. The time on international tours with artists like Rihanna was really paying off. If you can rock an arena in Berlin, why not crush an amphitheatre in familiar surroundings.
Some could argue he owed people that show for waiting it out, or he owed his home state that performance, but in the crowd, it felt like we owed it to him to rock so hard with him for not believing early on. For overlooking how hard he’d continuously put on for us in the national spotlight.
That strange, underlying, mutual appreciation permeated the show.
As Cole’s set wrapped up and he began his thank yous — in a fashion he clearly borrowed from Jay-Z’s Madison Square Garden performances — those around looked at each other silently hoping to validate that we’d witnessed the same thing. In the barrage of his band ending with a bang, you could sort of tell that Cole noticed something different, too.
Between thanking the two universities for hosting him and making a smooth one-handed catch of some women’s underwear launched on stage from the crowd, Cole began telling a story about some of his previous visits to Greensboro. He explained what it was like to be a new artist to have your CDs pressed up, only selling them for $1 just so people can hear you, but getting no response. He knew what we all knew: those days were over.
One thing hadn’t changed though. The last words he said before leaving stage in flurry of drums, keys, flashing lights and a crowd still caught up in the moment: “I’m J. Cole and I’m from Fayetteville, North Carolina.”
That will never change.
- Michael McCray, fayobserver.com
(Source: blogs.fayobserver.com)
