De La Soul, Royal Albert Hall, review: a bittersweet tribute to absent friends
De La Soul’s appearance in London was always intended as a celebration – initially to coincide with an anniversary reissue of the group’s 1989 debut, hip-hop classic Three Feet High And Rising, and, having fought through an acrimonious, years-long battle with their former label over sample clearances, the arrival of their first six albums to streaming services. “We are here to celebrate our music being let out of prison,” announced Kelvin “Posdnuos” Mercer at the show’s opening. This would be a night for time-capsule rap fans.
But the sweet was soon bittered, because, since the passing of founder member David “Trugoy the Dove” Jolicoeur, aged 54, in February, this show was only ever going to be about one thing. And it wouldn’t be legal wranglings. “We are here to celebrate the life of David Jolicoeur,” Mercer continued. The tributes went on throughout the rest of the evening, offered up by everyone from the group’s unofficial fourth member, Prince Paul, to cameo arrivals Yasiin Bey (formerly known as Mos Def), Dres of 1990s hip-hop duo Black Sheep (fellow members of the Native Tongues collective alongside Mercer et al), and a homage-offering Damon Albarn, who joined for a scratchy, rousing run-through of Gorillaz collab Feel Good Inc.
The loss proved a heavy burden for Mercer to carry, both emotionally and practically. He was at his best with others onstage to bounce off: for Black Sheep’s raucous The Choice Is Yours, with its iconic “Engine engine number nine” sending knees creaking; or taking an assist from Bey on the smooth-slinking Oodles of Os. Things would liven a notch each time DJ/producer Vincent “Maseo” Mason shuffled from behind the decks to gee things up.
These dashes of organic creative chemistry harked back to the mixing pot rap sessions that first put De La Soul out in front at the turn of the 1990s. That all this was happening within the staid, stately confines of the Royal Albert Hall only contributed to the sense of edge. But a tight programme is required when slotting a three-plus-decade career into 90 minutes, and this was a jumble. Albarn’s surprise appearance was fluffed, and the backing band’s traipses on and off stage were disrupted by apparently off-the-cuff set changes.
At close, the crowd was left waiting for an encore, and to hear absent hits like The Magic Number – but neither arrived. The former perhaps due to time constraints after overflowing cameos, the latter almost certainly intentional: the group, no longer operating as a trio, offering a reminder of the space – and legacy – Trugoy has left behind.
For further dates, see wearedelasoul.com/tour/
