With one statement, Coolio seemed to recognize why most people had purchased a ticket to his sold-out Vega show.
“If she’s too young to know who loves orange soda, she’s too fucking young,” he growled into the microphone. Crude, yes, and a little uncomfortable, but coupled with the Kenan and Kel theme song, neatly summed up the night, and maybe this tour.
He actually asked “Who loves orange soda?” the way Kel Kimbel used to ask Kenan Rockmore, himself, and their studio audience. Coolio also answered himself the same way: “Kel loves orange soda!” You couldn’t help but laugh, if you remembered.
And that might have been the time in the night, more than halfway through his set, where we got some truth out of Coolio, whether intentional or not.
But first, Lincoln DJ SharkWeek spun an hour-and-15 minute set to open. She smoothly worked her way from what she called “weirdo bass music” tracks, a couple of her own originals (over which she rapped), all the way to a few classic ‘90s hip-hop tunes from the likes of Biggie, Jay-Z, and A Tribe Called Quest. There was a smattering of hip-shaking as the room filled up towards the end of her set. A couple of dancers joined her mid-way through the set, flanking her on either side, encouraging the crowd to move, as well.
The anticipation for Coolio mounted to the point of bursting between sets as a presumed 15-30 minute wait for the headliner turned into an hour-long layover. “Go Big Red” call-response shouts broke out, indicative of an atypical Lincoln concert-going audience. A couple of chants for “Coolio! Coolio!” failed to get off the ground. One fan jumped onstage and sound-checked the microphone before being dragged offstage.
Coolio’s set truly was a spectacle. He took the stage wearing a literal chain and a Haystak hat out of which his antennae protruded. He was so intense for parts of the first 25 minutes that it felt like he was back in the ‘90s and battle-rapping with himself.
He was sharp, though, showing little rust and really engaging the crowd in his performance. He’d hold brief Q&As before songs (“What is the first thing you’re supposed to do before touching your woman in an intimate way?”). He teased each of his well-known songs before doing them, tantalizing an audience clearly thirsting for them.
After “1,2,3,4” — which found the 25 to 35 year-old crowd losing its collective mind — Coolio and his DJ/multi-instrumentalist darted off stage amid the sound of gunshots cracking from the PA. Smoke filled the stage as he re-emerged sans jacket and hat, which had covered his balding head. “Gangsta’s Paradise” began to a roar from the crowd, warm saxophone filling in the background vocal harmonies.
That was the end of a quick 45-minute set, frontloaded with newer tracks and topped off with what were predictably the main attractions. It was also definitely engineered that way. It seemed as though most people were there to see Coolio do the songs they remembered from youth, and he knew this. It didn’t matter how long the show went on as long as those three songs closed things out.
When he ran offstage once more, leaving his saxophonist to play an extended solo, nobody was sure if it was over or not until the DJ set his sax aside to spin a few records.
Sure, he captained a trip through time, back to our Nickelodeon and MTV-filled youth. In a way, he also acknowledged the silliness of doing so with little else to supplement it, from the construction of the setlist to his hamming it up for the heavy-hitters. Even a shell of the Coolio from yesteryear would have been more than enough to sate the hunger for nostalgia; his energy and self-awareness made it surprisingly enjoyable, if only for a fleeting hour.
