Fourth of July arrived early this year at Wrigley Field. A third of the way into his Big Ass Stadium Tour, Post Malone punctuated his blowout affair Thursday at the ballpark with a recurring blitz of pyrotechnics.
Mushroom-cloud fireballs. Shooting flames. Spark showers. Massive aerial fireworks on the level of Navy Pier’s summertime displays. No matter that they interfered with the music, they just seemed another way for Malone, whose birthday falls on Independence Day, to express appreciation on a night when gratitude and charisma made the man.
It’s doubtful any performer who passed through town in recent memory said thanks, referred to the crowd as “ladies and gentlemen,” or bowed more often in two hours than Malone. Usually, listening to someone repeat themselves and hurt for original banter quickly grows stale. The same rule applies for hearing bromides about chasing dreams and believing in yourself.
Yet Malone’s deep sincerity and charming, profanity-laden politeness won out. His finest strengths are personality and cordiality, and both were amplified on the stage. Ditto his distinctive appearance, trumped only by a persuasive smile that conveyed an innocence and friendliness somewhat at odds with his braggadocio tales and hedonistic tendencies. It wasn’t the only contradiction that fed into Malone’s ambiguous presence.
‘With his heavily tattooed face, neck and hands, frizzy beard and flashy dental grill, the vocalist cut a highly visible figure who didn’t need mobile cameras broadcasting his every move on four screens. Seldom staying on the main platform with his band, Malone maximized the layout of ramps and runways that allowed him to get close to the audience.
He strolled and crouched as if hobnobbing with family and friends at a neighborhood barbeque, his casual and unhurried pace conveying a desire to hang out awhile. At one point, he leaped down onto the field to greet a woman celebrating her 70th birthday and wrapped his arms around her in a giant hug.
A divide between triumphant celebration and heartbreaking anguish, between party-hard bravado and despondent loneliness, emerged as the most interesting aspect of a concert where Malone negotiated the spaces between his identities as rapper and pickup-driving country boy. He fared best when embracing personal issues rather than pursuing generic constructs and tropes, with the cartoonish “Rockstar” ranking high among the latter violations.
Born Austin Richard Post, the Texas-reared multi-hyphenate emerged during the past decade as one of the mainstream’s premier draws. Among the 10 best-selling digital artists in history, he counts 18 Grammy nominations, the first-ever Double Diamond-certified single (“Sunflower”) and a 2024 pre-Super Bowl “America the Beautiful” performance among his list of commercial feats.
One reason for his success? Few contemporaries negotiate the art of the crossover with as much visibility and frequency as the 29-year-old New York State native. Keeping tabs on his collaborations requires a ledger. In addition to pairing with fellow hip hop millennials such as Young Thug, Doja Cat and 21 Savage, Malone received invites to sing on the newest records by Taylor Swift and Beyoncé. Akin to the latter, he became one of the latest pop celebrities to enter into the country-music sweepstakes.
He’s received plenty of help. Malone’s cadre of friends in low places includes Morgan Wallen, Luke Combs, Chris Stapleton, Dolly Parton and Tim McGraw. All guests on his recent “F-1 Trillion,” Malone’s fifth original LP in six years — a stretch that also witnessed him lead a Nirvana tribute that resulted in him joining the Seattle-based group’s surviving members at the “SNL 50: The Homecoming Concert” special.
Any plans for Malone to revisit ’90s rock at a live show will wait for another tour. Dressed in a long-sleeve Western shirt, cowboy boots and jeans, and wearing a mix of trucker hats, Malone went all-in on his transition to country on a chilly night where a majority of his body art remained concealed by clothing. Not that he missed a beat in conjuring the sights and sounds of a saloon-style dive bar.
Evoking a bygone era when most musicians smoked, Malone puffed on cigarettes between and during songs. He went as far as clutching them between his fingers as he picked the strings of a guitar. The downside? At times, Malone sounded winded. And though he maneuvered around a long stage, watching a dude still in his 20s sit for spells looked out of place.
His vices extended to liquor. Drinking from plastic red cups that seemed to him as much of a necessary accessory as his big belt buckle, he toasted the audience and sampled beer handed to him by fans. Recreations of railroad crossings and road signs and a guardrail prop added to the Texas-by-way-of-Hollywood vibe.
Malone had mixed results with his forays into Nashville territory. His passable ensemble wisely included a pedal-steel guitarist and violinist, yet the mix muddled their contributions on an abundance of mid- and high-tempo material. The pick-and-grin skedaddle of “M-E-X-I-C-O” and subdued grit on “Wrong Ones” stood as exceptions. So did the boot-scootin’ boogie of “Finer Things,” whose refrain went down as easily as the song’s polished outlaw twang.
Several attempts at retaining hillbilly accents (“Pour Me a Drink” and a duet with opener Jelly Roll, “Losers”) suffered from formulaic approaches that impacted a handful of Malone’s hip hop and pop hybrids. While the instrumentalists played on Malone’s older fare, they failed to reconceptualize or rearrange it in the manner Beyoncé’s country-learned band did for her early work last week at Soldier Field.
Indeed, Malone might consider further paring back and letting his voice — less hazy and warbled than on record, particularly on rhythmic rap songs such as “Psycho” — and words carry the weight. A rendition of the ballad “Yours” and a solo stab at the dark “Feeling Whitney” quietly howled with naked emotion, autobiographical elements and Malone’s simple guitar lines. Malone found space and smarts on the breezy, hip-swiveling “I Had Some Help” and neon stomp of “Dead at the Honky Tonk,” both of which addressed heartache.
Other instances, such as the faint insistence of “I Ain’t Comin’ Back” and diluted plainness on “Wow.,” showed how some of Malone’s songs have a ways to go before they equal his magnetism. Introducing his breakout hit “White Iverson,” Malone referenced his awareness that some consider it his lone “good song.” Tellingly, he used the same phrase to describe the setlist, implying that material he bypassed wasn’t up to snuff. At least he’s honest.
Credit Malone, too, for utilizing the Wrigley environment in an imaginative, notable way. With his band buying time with an extended coda, Malone exited the building before resurfacing across Sheffield Avenue atop one of the rooftops for “Congratulations.” In a meta moment, the singer simultaneously observed his own concert as a spectator while still shaping its outcome.
Descending the stairs, a huge grin washing over on his face and excitement bursting from his voice as he shouted about proving naysayers wrong, an overjoyed Malone transformed into the equivalent of a little kid tearing into gifts on Christmas. Only here, he functioned as both recipient and giver.
Bob Gendron is a freelance critic.
Setlist at Wrigley Field on May 22:
“Texas Tea”
“Wow.”
“Better Now”
“Wrong Ones”
“Go Flex”
“Hollywood’s Bleeding”
“I Fall Apart”
“Losers”
“Goodbyes”
“M-E-X-I-C-O”
“What Don’t Belong to Me”
“I Ain’t Comin’ Back” (Morgan Wallen cover)
“Feeling Whitney”
“Yours”
“Circles”
“White Iverson”
“Psycho”
“Candy Paint”
“Finer Things”
“Pour Me a Drink”
“Dead at the Honky Tonk”
“Rockstar”
“I Had Some Help”
“Sunflower”
“Congratulations”
