The O2, London
“You might win some but you just lost one.”
After a litany of postponements, cancellations, deliberations and legal disputes; Ms. Lauryn Hill & The Fugees triumphantly reunite, to the delight of those old and young, on a brisk Monday evening at the capital.
For what seemed an interminable stretch of time, poised patiently as the clock struck 9pm, and beyond, the crowd awaited the arrival of tonight's elusive performer. In spite of the reassurance from DJ Reborn onstage (“She's here...they got the whole family up in here!”), this prescient omen was eventually realised; colliding the seismic worlds of 90’s R&B and hip-hop with the deified Ms. Lauryn Hill.
Before any realisation is fully addressed, the crowd are inundated with seismic R&B hits tied to Hill’s repertoire of almost 30 years ago (‘Everything is Everything’, ‘Final Ones’, ‘Lost Ones’, ‘To Zion’). Enveloped in a pristine sheen emanating from the extensive band onstage, scattered amongst a warm lighting arrangement, Hill nonchalantly personifies this in her very essence at this precipice: caked in an extravagant brown fur coat, gold neck chain and beaded braids.
Hill’s inimitable rapping and singing styles imminently burst into life, coalescing with ease as the crowd recites such bitingly indelible refrains (“You can get the money you can get the power you can rise up” / “You might win some but you just lost one”). A soulful rendition of the latter track completes an enticing start to tonight’s family affair, afflicted by remarkable vocal ranges, pertinent rapping abilities and a timeless R&B aura which swoons the crowd.
The arrival of Hill’s two sons, Zion and YG, digress from this emphatic start to tonight’s proceedings. Both respective leading tracks leave much to be desired (‘Why Won’t You Stay”, “Praise Jah in the Moonlight”) as a newly-curated trajectory leads us astray into dubious reggae-leaning territories. Salvaging this intermittent apathy from the crowd, Hill enforces one of the most beloved, and crucial, pop-R&B hits of the 90’s, ‘Doo Wop (That Thing)’, complete with sparkling keys and myriad name-checks from Hill for the greater influences in her musical tenure (Wonder, Gaye, Mayfield, Simone). Under this spell of unbound adoration, Hill imparts an impromptu poem for the city of London; consumed by self-revelation and retribution against naysayers, this chapter brings about another apt moment many had been long-awaiting.
Imminently, Wyclef Jean takes the stage to rapturous applause, initiating guitar-led duties alongside Hill’s noteworthy rapping. ‘Vocab’ and ‘How Many Mics’ regress into the popular-rap fray of the mid-late 90’s, convulsing with effervescent energy and effortless camaraderie between Hill and Jean, yet most notably it is Hill’s lyricism which has aged like a fine, if acute, wine to date (“Or Leviticus, God made this word / You can't get with this, sweet like liquorice, dangerous like syphilis”).
Whilst some areas of tonight’s reunion highlights the dissonant absence of member Pras, the presence of Jean seemingly over-compensates in lieu of this, complete with superfluous shouting and screaming in areas, as well as a half-hearted recital of Bob Marley’s ‘No Woman, No Cry’. Sufficed to say, the group’s most popular track to date, ‘Killing Me Softly With His Song’ undoubtedly re-invigorates the crowd’s fervour, at least for its shortened recital time; a consequential effect of their belated arrival which forces some of the crowd to make a premature exit.
Those willing to stay were ultimately rewarded for their due patience. Two timeless classics amongst rap's popular era, ‘Ready or Not’ and ‘Fu-Gee-La’, smotheringly intoxicate those engulfed by Hill’s interminably biting words (“So while you're imitating Al Capone, I'll be Nina Simone and defecating on your microphone”) which strike with devastating effect. The latter track breathes to life an instantly recognisable bassline which cues the crowd’s final undulation as Jean dives into the proposed scene (“We used to be number 10, now we’re permanent number 1”).
Caught in a frenzy of everlasting energy, as the house lighting arise, Hill is eventually dragged off-stage by Jean; marking an incendiary conclusion to tonight’s indelible performance for the ages. For it is Ms. Lauryn Hill who stands tallest as master-conductor and leader of the show, even amongst the equivocal family features and intermittent microphone issues which beset the first half of the performance. Little else can be retracted from such an inimitable voice, one whose reputation precedes itself, and contains an illustrious legacy for this once-in-a-lifetime artist. Similar to that of the revered Nina Simone, Hill holds herself with an unbridled grace and conviction, continuing to bolster her own repertoire as well as the Fugees in the act of solidifying true artistic greatness.
9/10
Photo is courtesy of Ravi Sidhu whose work can be found here.
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