“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today, to get through this thing called life,” a smooth voice echoed out over purple pools of light across the stage at 170 Russell on Friday night. For a second you’d be forgiven for forgetting what year it was.
But that confusion immediately became clarity as Paul Reid aka Jimmy Recard aka Drapht stormed the stage, hype man at his side and two piece band blasting behind him. Now in his mid thirties, and back after a five year hiatus, as the Syllabolix member and Perth legend hopped and pounced in front of his swarming fans, the opening three lines to Prince’s ‘Let’s Go Crazy’ formed a prologue for the evening. We had just entered a time machine.
It’s been five years since Drapht’s last album The Life of Riley lit up the ARIA charts with lead-single ‘Rapunzel’. Now only a few months after dropping his fifth album, new cut ‘Seven Mirrors’ has once again displayed the growth which allowed his fourth album in 2011 to carry him from underground lyricist to Triple J darling. To see Drapht blare his past catalogue alongside his new record to a sea of young and old fans tells the story of his seventeen year long career.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n8oMmmxEDc4
Debuting in 2003 with his first record Pale Rider, the Perth lyricist quickly developed a loyal following. Immediately recognisable for his high-pitched nasal twang, rapid fire cadence and multisyllabic rhyme schemes, the SBX stalwart’s friendship with Perth crew Downsyde and Hilltop Hoods lead to a string of show-stealing guest appearances on classic albums like When the Dust Settles and The Hard Road (in fact, his 16 bars on State Cypha from Mystro’s Diggi Down Under is still one of the best verses this country has ever seen).
His sophomore record Who Am I on Obese Records brought him national attention with popular singles ‘The Music’ and ‘Drink Drank Drunk’, followed by his strongly-anticipated Brothers Grimm featuring production from Trials of the Funkoars (and now A.B. Originals) and legendary producers M-Phazes, Simplex and Plutonic Lab. Before Drapht reached his current heights of fame with ‘Rapunzel’, he was very much considered a prodigy of the underground, an artist with ties to the establishing era of Australian hip-hop in Downsyde, Hilltop Hoods, Bliss n Eso and many more. To see an artist of his calibre evolve and mature but remain true to his identity was on full display during the Melbourne leg of his Seven Mirrors tour.
From the opening ‘Purple Rain’ sample Drapht very much presented himself as an ’80s baby who crashed through the space time continuum. Stomping across the stage in a baseball jersey, like Dennis the Menace with a microphone, both his energy and tenacity were of the same underground artist who would perform to humble crowds throughout Perth nearly two decades ago. The Gotham City architecture of 170 Russell spoke perfectly to the mood of the evening.
You’d have sworn you walked in on one of his shows during the Who Am I era. Drapht had travelled to 2016 from Australian hip-hop’s humble beginnings to a screaming crowd of young and old. Along with him for the ride was all walks of Australian hip-hop lore; slamming the drums was Downsyde founder and producer Dazastah, hype duties were flawlessly fulfilled by Perth heavyweight Bitter Belief and alternating between guitar, keys and vocals was Perth singer-songwriter Morgan Bain. This small tight-knit crew on stage perfectly answered the intimate but colossal atmosphere of the crowd.
Drapht and the boys immediately whipped the masses into frenzy with an assault of room-shaking cuts from both The Life of Riley and Seven Mirrors, not stopping for any banter in-between. Drapht and Bitter Belief led the barrage of waving limbs as Morgan Bain howled the chorus for Sing It (The Life of Riley) and the crowd roared back. It was then a constant back and forth between songs from the two albums; the only words spared were to thank everybody for copping Seven Mirrors.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OpbOfXzVEhI
There was perfect harmony as Drapht serenaded the crowd with the hauntingly bittersweet ‘Another Juliet’, dark and brooding but still boisterous, weaving comic book references with relationship insights before launching into the anthemic pounding tambourine and horns riddled ‘All Love’ followed by the shredding guitar and defiant hook on ‘Bad’ to a stamping and chanting audience. Matching the songs from each album side by side, you couldn’t hear a year wasted in his time off as the energy and spirit of new cut Mexico, despite the absence of Dune Rats, entranced the crowd with the same uplifting ambiance of crowd-favourite ‘Rapunzel’.
A man of few words between songs, whenever Drapht did pause to address his fans it was to express his gratitude to the city for the turnout especially since his hiatus. But towards the end of the evening the house lights flared up and the room was in silent awe as he told the story of a 17 year old Perth boy who saw a modest rap crew from Adelaide perform to a room of a few hundred in his home city, a duo who now perform to thousands in arenas across the country: The Hilltop Hoods.
Drapht thanked Suffa, Pressure and Debris with an earnest display of gratitude not just for his career but for what they have done for hip-hop in this country. This sentiment allowed Drapht to transform the crowd at 170 Russell into thousands in a Zion vision of people all coming together to celebrate their mortal fate. It was a humbling confessional which painted the night’s proceedings with the glow of nostalgia and optimism for the future as he launched into his verse for Don Quixote sans the Adelaide trio.
Drapht’s roots were never hidden especially when he was joined on stage by Trials (who hosted the evening behind the decks) for the back and forth routine of ‘The Paul The Dan’. Drapht’s comfort with his supporting cast members elevated the show above the usual proceedings of a solo act. Bitter Belief prioritised conducting and instigating the crowd at all times, never failing to launch into a back-up line or ad-lib. Dazastah’s head crashed down in rhythm with his sticks upon the cymbals and snare drum.
Nearly stealing the show with his honey-soaked but coarse voice was the powerhouse, Morgan Bain. His vocals so pitch-perfectly filled the room that at first I thought it was a backing track. The Perth singer reduced the room to silence for Drapht’s Like a Version of ‘Frank Sinatra’ by The Avalanches; the definition of what a cover should sound like. This was the first of two spine-tingling highlights, the other being the back-to-back offerings of ‘Jimmy Recard’ and ‘R.I.P J.R’.
The old school party braggadocio vibes of the Brothers Grimm’s lead-single paired next to the outpouring of sorrow on the answer to ‘Jimmy’ from The Life of Riley. Drapht’s voice sounded desperate to be heard amongst a warbling guitar which emanated from the underworld. On the two songs Drapht seamlessly weaved his jovial party going demeanour with his sensitive and pained side. This perfectly captured what Drapht did all night, and has managed his whole career.
Without much room to breathe between songs, the show seemed to finish just as soon as it had begun. Before the whole crew had snuck off stage the crowd had already soared into a deafening growl for more. Seconds passed and Drapht announced they normally only played one extra song but then proceeded to grace the crowd with two encores, capping off the evening with a speaker-shattering rendition of ‘Falling’, the promo single for Brothers Grimm, set to ‘Holding On’ by Flume. This was followed by 2015 single ‘Dancin’ John Doe’ which saw the supports, multi-talented Melbourne boy-wonder Dylan Joel and Perth bad-boy poet Marksmen Lloyd in a leather jacket (who I’ll be damned didn’t look like a young Drapht himself). Missing from the stage was Melbourne kid on the rise Dex (who opened the evening), but the newcomer was getting amongst it in the crowd as if he were on stage.
Seeing Drapht dance and laugh mid-chorus with his support acts on stage made the impression of his dedication to Hilltop Hoods ring true. There was once a time where hip-hop in this country was reserved to hotel band rooms like The Sentinel and now our country’s best and brightest hip-hop talent grace festivals to crowds of thousands. And there amongst the sea of people beneath Melbourne’s nightlife, you could see that same 17 year old boy from Perth on stage, beckoned forth from yesteryear through something as simple as a Prince tribute, saying sorry for being gone but thank you for opening the time capsule, so he can help us help each other get through this thing called life.
