I’ve been listening to Chance since I first discovered “Acid Rap” in high school. While I was, unquestionably, a young white girl growing up in a wealthy Chicago suburb and Chance was a gritty, black boy from the city, “10 Day” and “Acid Rap” still spoke volumes to me. There was nobody putting out rap music like Chance—it was catchy, it was clever, and it was free. Not Limewire free, either. I loved it, and I played my burned CD while I drove around in my Dad’s Honda Accord until it was too scratched to be comprehensible.
My wildest dreams were made reality when I watched him headline Lollapallooza in 2014, which was a miracle in itself (at least, in the eyes of the music industry). He drew an insanely massive crowd, all because of that Chicago pride, baby. He brought out R Kelly, sang his classic theme song from Arthur, and introduced The Social Experiment, the alias under which he produced the hit “Sunday Candy”, which arguably is what launched him to his current critical-acclamation status. It was amazing. I cried.
The absolute best part of the show that sold me on Chance forever was when a large screen descended behind him and began to play what looked like “Dance Dance Revloution”, you know, that game from 2005? It was the most unconventional thing that I have ever seen an artist do at a show, and it worked. It worked because Chance didn’t let anybody tell him what to do. He was just having fun with it then, and he still is now.
While Chance’s latest project, “Coloring Book”, has received hoards of media attention and is quickly turning him into a household name outside of his home city, many young thugs that have been bumping “Acid Rap” since they first decided they liked girls have been grieving over what once was. But here’s the thing: what once was still is, because Chance has not compromised his artistry in the slightest, and it doesn’t seem like he’s planning on it anytime soon.
Seriously, “Coloring Book” is full of classic Chance behavior: the strategically placed screechy “good GODs”, the almost three-minute gospel choir worship hymn intro on “How Great”, and the two completely different tracks both titled “Blessings”. Over and over again, Chance proves himself to be completely unapologetic, original, and true to who he is as an artist. He may have transitioned from trippy druggy lyrics to unabashedly proclaiming the gospel, but the spirit and fervor behind his verses have remained constant from the beginning, and the people love him for it.
Chance 3 has been out for five weeks and I’ve been listening to it nonstop since the day it dropped, and I know I’m not the only one that can’t get enough. I’m no conspiracy theorist, but I’m serious when I say that the fact that the Grammy’s rules for eligibility just changed is no coincidence—people are raving about Chance 3. Kanye may have said that he had to sell it to snatch the Grammy, but those days are long gone. Chance is here to stay, and he’s here to sing—and there ain’t one gosh darn part we can’t tweet.
