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News October 27, 2015

Live Review: Azealia Banks, Sydney

When a 20-year-old Azealia Banks released 212, the foul-mouthed Harlem rapper preempted her multiple Twitter beefs and ensuing diss-tracks with young female rappers vying for the crown. And when an artist like Miss Bank$ (self-awarded moniker, not ours) holds hip hop over a barrel of glow sticks and fuzzy leg warmers, it’s bound turn up noses. But judging by the sold-out crowd of twerkers at Sydney’s Enmore Theatre last night, her genre-mixing and extolling of profanity is something the more ‘safe’ female rappers have been missing.

Taking the stage half an hour late in a flashing light-up bra and cut-off denim shorts – opened low enough to form a downward ‘V’ pointed at the namesake which first shocked our mothers – Banks and her touring DJ Cosmo Baker opened with the Fantasea Mixtape’s lead track Out of Space.

Unlike her last Australian performance with Splendour In The Grass, where she performed a lackluster 25-minute set, the crowd weren’t contemplating their navel during any track other than 212. This predominantly white, predominantly left-footed and out-of-time crowd, were familiar with her scattered discography.

:: VIEW OUR LIVE GALLERY FROM THE NIGHT

In tracks like her teenage opus Jumanji and Van Vogue from her EP1991, Banks may not have been as enticing as her music videos convey – her diminutive figure opted for foot-stamps over whine gyrations – but her two backup dancers, Elayna aka EMoney and Matthew Pasterisa, were distracting enough.

What was lovely, and genuine, and contradictory to the character who spits rhymes like “open your face and let a bitch squat” and “I supply what your girlfriend can’t provide that tight grip twat I got that slip and slide,” was Banks’ constant resolve to pick up every gift that was thrown onstage to take home.

Closing with her breakout 212, Banks tipped her hat to fellow Future Music artist Prodigy with her own mix of Firestarter. Up against young women like Angel Haze, Iggy Azalea, Kreayshawn and yes, even Nicki Minaj, Banks holds her own, but not because of her live performance, she’ll conquer that in time, it’s her undeniable ability to make her dirty thoughts delightful. Perhaps it’s her size, or the wide smile she offers when rapping the word ‘cunt’ for the 60th time; the reason is irrelevant when even the most feminist prude is beguiled.

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