I like to consider myself a fan of rap music.
I keep up with the XXL Freshman Classes and their annual freestyle drops, and I was unreasonably upset when Cardi B won Best Rap Album for Invasion of Privacy in 2018. Before this concert, I liked to think of myself as a casual Denzel Curry listener—by “casual,” I mean murmuring, “Oh, that’s that Denzel Curry song,” whenever a bass-boosted version of “Ultimate” blasted over some Vine compilation from 2017.
That was until I saw him live at the Bomb Factory for his Mischievous South Tour.
While waiting outside with the rest of the crowd, we were approached by a man hustling $50 Denzel Curry shirts—clearly bootlegs. The way he was shouting about his offer, he might as well have been holding a stack of newspapers. If he had yelled, “Extra, extra!” he could’ve passed as a main character in Newsies.
Eventually, I made my way inside, standing around until pink fluorescent lights overloaded my senses. CLIP, Curry’s first opener, sauntered onstage and immediately hyped up the crowd.
I’ll be honest—I had never heard of her before that night. But I’m glad I have now. She’s fun.
She rapped over a hyperpop beat; it was infectious. CLIP, in a way, reminds me of Coco & Clair Clair fused into one singular person—playful, feminine lyrics layered over high-energy production. Midway through her set, she catapulted herself off the stage and danced with the audience at the barricade, taking selfies on borrowed phones. I was thoroughly entertained. It’s always nice to see women carve out their own space in rap.
Before I knew it, CLIP was off the stage, and 454 stepped into the spotlight. I’ll be honest again: I had never heard of him either. Clearly, I’m not as big of a rap fan as I originally thought.
454’s style reminded me of early Lil Tecca—lowkey, but far from forgettable. If CLIP delivered hyperpop-fueled chaos, 454 brought things back to earth while still keeping the tempo high. His sped-up instrumentals had my head bopping like a marionette, and he was the puppeteer pulling every string. It wasn’t flashy, but it was undeniably effective.
The final opener, Kenny Mason, came up next. I do, in fact, know who Kenny Mason is—thankfully, I was starting to earn my rap fan cred back.
In a way, Mason was the perfect fusion of the two artists before him. He had grounded, thoughtful lyrics like 454, paired with the unfiltered energy of CLIP. The crowd and I were fully locked in; believe it or not, I even knew some of the lyrics this time. His set ran longer, which gave enough time for a makeshift moshpit to erupt in the middle of the floor. For the tracks I didn’t recognize, I made a mental note to look them up on Spotify later.
Denzel Curry emerged from the shadows, brimming with energy from the moment he stepped on stage. Every song he performed hit with force, and it felt almost surreal to hear “Ultimate” live. The crowd met his intensity with equal ferocity. At one point, he asked us to clear out the middle of the floor—and we parted like the Red Sea. I’m pretty sure if he had told us to jump, we’d have asked, “How high?” without hesitation.
The set winded down naturally with “CLOUT COBAIN” off his 2018 album TA13OO, a staple closer in his live shows.
The lights came back on, and people began filing toward the exits.
I was pulling out my phone to call an Uber when—
“Y’all thought I was done?”
Curry grinned like he knew he was that guy, and honestly, he was.
The crowd exploded. Phones shot up like a digital forest of arms. The lights dimmed again, and we circled back in for one last moment: Curry’s encore performance of “JPEGULTRA!”—a track from JPEGMAFIA’s 2024 album I LAY DOWN MY LIFE FOR YOU, featuring Curry himself.
By the time the concert actually ended, we were sweaty, exhausted, and borderline euphoric. But we’d just witnessed something special.
I left that night not just a bigger rap fan but a bigger Denzel Curry fan—and armed with a discography I’m ready to explore.
