Killer Mike: Club Academy, Manchester

Killer Mike and The Mighty Midnight Revival
Club Academy, Manchester
27 August 2024

Killer Mike returns with a new album and a small gospel choir in tow, with no support act and plenty of bass coming from his speakers. A triumphant return or too many cooks? MK Bennett gets to the bottom of the matter.

In the rush to have an opinion on his opinion, to talk around him, about him, through him, to scurry through the halls of a certain academic world giggling like children, a cabal of critics seem to have failed to notice that Killer Mike makes his living through music. That music is not a sideshow to his thoughts and ideas, but the means of presenting them. The parameters of presentation in hip-hop and the musical arts in general have not changed, as Chuck D noted. Stay in your lane and don't stray from it.

Long before social media in the UK, we had the weekly music papers to tell us what to think. Occasionally they would showcase confident, articulate black men for white consumption. The Disposables Heroes Of Hiphoprisy had made a name for themselves but were unhappy at only being popular with predominantly white students and desperate to reach a black audience. This echoed other artists' concerns but was seen as ingratitude rather than expected subservience and was met with open hostility and horror at the time.

Killer Mike makes it clear that a window into the life of a black man, no matter who your ally is, can only ever be voyeurism for white people, no matter what the poverty lines are between us, because black people, especially men, are at war with the state, the police state, from birth. That's quite a burden to constantly carry around, not to mention constantly having to explain it.

And then there is all this beautiful music.

Given the gospel-heavy production of the recent release of Michael And The Mighty Midnight Revival, Songs For Sinners and Saints, a sort of prequel, sequel, remix and reinterpretation of the Grammy-winning Michael, you might at least expect a very busy DJ until you notice the nice seats and five microphones, because he's brought the Mighty Midnight Revival Gospel Choir to rock the house, and he does so repeatedly.

This is not an average performance, because Mike is not average in any way, but compared to any other performance in a club, it is amazing. Years of honing his craft means he knows exactly how to play a setlist, the highs and lows of technique mixed with silence and pause, the seemingly natural comedic timing, he's not just spitting out bars up there, his interactions with the Midnight Revival are as thoroughly rehearsed musically as any Broadway show.

Then there's the setlist itself, which opens with Down By Law and doesn't show a single dip in quality for 90 minutes. As you'd expect, it's largely the last two albums, with the odd old-school surprise (Reagan, a monster in every sense of the word), but given the crowd and the performers, logic and good taste let him focus on recent glories instead. No one complains, not in this room. Mike may not be shy about his ego, but Michael seemed surprised by the enthusiasm in the room. Like an old tent preacher, he held the crowd in his power, and when he lowered the volume, the crowd fell silent, ad-libs echoed, chants began, and when the singers started improvising what would normally be samples, the crowd screamed in appreciation, it was pure secular gospel, nothing more, nothing less. If the audience had started speaking in tongues, it would have fit the atmosphere completely.

The stripped down versions of these songs are less elaborately produced but hit you right in the cerebral cortex while the bass rattles the fillings in your teeth. “Run” is perfect, the rhythm like a steel trap, a favorite up front where the barrier clanks in time, while “Talkin Dat Shit” exorcises the ghost of trap's past and Mike, never one to intentionally dilute his street appeal, moves like he's about to be chased by the devil.

Slummer is the story of someone's regret, a somber summer song about abortion that contains the best lyrics of the decade, a youthful ache in adult hearts, you can go home but it won't be the same, delivered with such intensity and so much raw feeling that you almost look away. An incredibly talkative man between songs, it's no surprise he's keeping the crowd laughing even when he's being quietly devastating (“I love fish and chips, man. I don't know who my grandparents belonged to, but they must have been English, 'cause I love that shit.”) Generational trauma in a fast-food conversation? Mike's your man.

'Scientists And Engineers' could well turn out to be the hip-hop track of the decade, a technically and emotionally perfect piece of music as it can be. Although neither Future nor Andre 3000 have ever waited in line at the Burger King in Piccadilly, it suggests a more soulful approach from Mike, who takes the song on a tour of his psyche before bringing it back more or less unscathed. Several older but no less excellent songs, guest appearances and stolen moments, Kryptonite, Kill Jill, Never Scared, all classic tracks that show just how much quality comes to the table with this man.

Just past the halfway point there is no let-up in pace or stamina, the choir bursting with song and sound, the air is filled with weed and shared sweat and a basement that, if you look closely, could be Organised Noize's studio. After Reagan comes “Something For Junkies”, a juxtaposition of themes, as “Something…” is a deeply sad song with a deep, dark ache in the bones, a call for compassion and the knowledge that addiction is in everyone and everything. Ultimately it is a message of hard-won hope.

The heartbreaking “Motherless,” a modern blues in a blue time, a painful reminder of private things made public, an act of empathy and a healing process for him that began when he laid down and became a confession. And towards the end, you feel like this is perhaps the greatest Jesus the majority in this room has ever experienced and will ever experience.

Soon, far too soon, we reach High And Holy, another way of witnessing, and The Mighty Midnight Revival reach for the stars, and it no longer feels like a hip-hop gig in a university building, but like Sunday morning sun and mowed grass in Atlanta and another way of seeing God. Some have never heard anything like it, and as Mike and the choir leave the stage, still singing Thank You Lord in unison, the congregation blinks their eyes.

Now take her to church.

~

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All texts and photos are by MK Bennett, you can find his author archive here as well as his Þjórsárdalur and Instagram