The Alt Black

Chance the Rapper is a Chicago-born artist known for his energetic rap style, diverse lyrical topics, and independent status, and his signature “Ahhh!” ad-lib. Chance’s first project is titled 10 Day, a 14-track mixtape that was released in 2012 after he had been suspended from school, after being accused of having drugs on the school’s campus. Following 10 Day, he released Acid Rap in 2013, a mixtape that truly defined a generation. After the success of Acid Rap, Chance released Coloring Book, The Big Day, and, more recently, Starline. I’ve championed each of these projects, flown to concerts, purchased merchandise, and written about my experiences.

I recall hearing Chance for the first time in my cousin’s Honda Civic in 2013. Cocoa Butter Kisses, a nostalgic anthem featuring Vic Mensa and Twista, played throughout his speakers, and in that moment, I was hooked. This was only the beginning. As I began listening to Acid Rap, I heard masterful storytelling about the reality of Chicago in the song “Paranoia.” The addictive nature of love in Lost rapped by Chance and Chicago native, Noname, had me in a vice grip for weeks. The mixtape was available on music platforms such as Datpiff and Soundcloud. I’ve been an adamant supporter of Chance since. I’ve written several blogs about his music, captured a few of his liked messages on socials, purchased merchandise, and flown to Chicago to see him perform live.

In 2017, Chance was the first artist to win three Grammys for a streaming-only project. I recall watching the entire Grammys show that night. Chance performed “How Great,” a take on the contemporary Christian song “How Great Is Our God,” popularized by Chris Tomlin. Chance’s personal story, giving glory to God, while sharing his own testimony, was like electricity. That night, Chance won the Grammy for Best New Artist, Best Rap Album for Coloring Book, and Best Rap Performance for “No Problem.” I remembered jumping out of my seat each time he won a Grammy. Chance winning felt like all of us winning; he was the person everyone was rooting for.

On a more personal note, in 2017, it was announced that Soundcloud was struggling to stay afloat. According to Digital Music News, SoundCloud only had enough cash on hand to operate for 50 days, and the company had just laid off 40% of its staff. I had a friend who had passed away, and the last place I could hear their voice was through their Soundcloud songs. Once this news broke, Chance had tweeted, “I’m working on the Soundcloud thing.” Following this tweet, Chance broke the news that Soundcloud was here to stay. Instant relief washed over me during that time, and my admiration for Chance grew immensely.

You can imagine my joy when I saw that Chance’s team decided to host an intimate event of Chance’s tour for The Magnificent Coloring Book documentary. I didn’t think twice! I bought a ticket and immediately began planning my trip to New York City. Chance is known for curating intimate experiences for his supporters. In the past, his team curated an event titled “Writings on the Wall.” Writings on the Wall was an immersive experience where attendees were given headphones and journals and listened to unreleased music, with a Q&A session, all in the comfort of an oversized bean bag chair. The event cemented Chance’s commitment to going above and beyond for his fans.

Wednesday, May 20th, is the date set for the New York showing of the documentary, with a Q&A to follow the screening. The showing was scheduled for the Rooftop Cinema in Manhattan. My trip started at 4:00 AM as I headed to the train station for my scheduled departure at 5:44 AM. I packed light, a copy of the 10-year Acid Rap Anniversary vinyl I had purchased at the 10-year Acid Rap show in Chicago. A copy of Starline, which I had purchased at the 10-year anniversary show for Surf, an eclectic album that heavily features Chance. I also brought Taylor Bennet’s Broad Shoulders vinyl on the off chance that he may be at the showing. With those three items, I was ready to go.

As I arrived at the train station, I couldn’t help but feel my lack of sleep turn into excitement. In three hours, I’d be in New York to partake in an intimate experience curated by one of my favorite artists. My mind began to race with questions. “What lessons would I take away from the film?” “How will my body react when I see Chance?” “Am I ready for my blessing?”

To be honest, the train ride felt like forever and a day. Having once lived in New York, I am no stranger to traveling; this train seemed to stop everywhere. Three stops in Delaware, five stops in New Jersey, and six stops in Philadelphia. I’m exaggerating, but I couldn’t wait for the train to arrive at Moynihan train station so I could get on with my day. Finally, I heard the words, “Next stop Moynihan  train station.” My anticipation was through the roof.

As the day began to unfold, I met with an old friend who lives in New York. We had breakfast at a quaint buffet not too far from the train station. From there, we had our hair styled and enjoyed Korean fried chicken before arriving at the event. It is important to note that this particular weekend, the East Coast was experiencing an intense heat wave, followed by heavy rain showers. 

The atmosphere changed from blistering heat to gray, forlorn clouds heavy with rainwater. Now, everyone knows that after sitting in a chair for a number of hours, the last thing you want to be is caught in a torrential downpour. Luckily, I was able to buy a cheap umbrella and proceed to the venue. As we entered the hotel, we were directed to the second floor, where the rooftop cinema was located.

Exiting the elevator, I saw a cool setup: several lawn chairs arranged in a theatre style, a concessions stand, and a screen set up to display the documentary I had traveled to see. Once I checked in, I received a pair of headphones that directly played the audio into our ears. I found a seat and began waiting for the documentary to unfold. At this time, it was around 7:40 PM, and the film was scheduled to start at 8 PM. I estimate there were 30 people in attendance. In my typical loquacious manner, I began talking to the other attendees. Hearing other people’s stories unfold was an awesome experience, and it bolstered my enthusiasm to watch the film. 

At this time, I couldn’t help but notice that the intensity of the rain began to increase. Even so, the energy did not wane; the venue provided plastic ponchos, and everyone passed them around. During this time, I witnessed the screen changing, even reflecting a vertical, multicolored display, which reminded me of my childhood when the TV screen would malfunction. Despite this, I sat in my chair, poncho on, an umbrella erected, and sat in the rain until 9:30. 

A group of musically inclined folks in the front began reciting lyrics to Chance’s songs to keep the energy going. They started with Sunday Candy, the breakout hit from Surf, and then transitioned to Same Drugs, one of Chance’s poignant songs that details how things change over time. I opted to join in the impromptu choir and felt the joy in the space flow as we waited for an update. That’s when I heard a voice come through my headphones. “We’re trying to get the film to start in the next ten minutes.” ‘Finally, I thought to myself, we can witness the epicness of this film.

To my dismay, this wouldn’t happen. As the impromptu choir continued, the group’s leader noticed that Chance had arrived. Once she acknowledged him, everyone’s eyes shifted towards him on the upper deck. I was in awe. By this time, the rain had begun to stop, but it was around 10:30. I had seen Chance before in concert, but I had never been so close to him. There he was in one of his signature 3 hats. He shared that they couldn’t get the documentary to show, but he would take a group photo with us and would sing a song a cappella. He chose to perform Same Drugs while the crowd accompanied him. 

It was cool hearing Same Drugs a cappella, since Chance shared it was the first time he had done it. Once he was done, we all gathered around him for a group photo. This was also an opportunity for people to take individual pictures with Chance and to have a conversation with him. I was eager to have my moment with Chance. I waited patiently as everyone took their photos and had conversations. I thought to myself, those two hours sitting in the rain, the documentary not showing, were going to be worth it for this moment.

As Chance entered my space, we had a brief conversation, followed by my asking him to sign my Acid Rap Vinyl, Starline Vinyl, and a poster I had purchased that night for the documentary. My question was met with hesitation from Chance, “I can sign one.” My immediate reaction was disappointment, but I didn’t let it show. As Chance pulled out a Sharpie and signed my Starline vinyl, my admiration for him began to diminish. The artist whom I had been championing for over a decade, ironically, felt closer to me on stage and television than in real life.

Over a decade of support, purchases, concerts, and an unanswered request made me question my support for him. Each time I watched a Chance interview, he expressed his gratitude to his supporters. He has shared that being an independent artist isn’t easy because you don’t have the backing of a huge label, and that supporters are crucial to his success. In that moment, I didn’t feel those sentiments. I felt dismissed. We had all waited almost two hours before we got an update on the situation. Coming from all over to continue showing our support, not having my items signed was a sobering moment. 

I will never take away what Chance has done for me, the music industry, and the world at large, but at that moment, “Never meet your heroes, rang through my mind. I will continue to support Chance; he’s a phenomenal artist, father, creative, and businessman, but I will be taking a break from buying merchandise or going to tours after this one. 
In hindsight, I could’ve shared all of this with Chance in the moment, but I didn’t feel compelled to. The pause after I asked and his response were enough for me to feel disappointed. I know there are people who will read this and think, “You should’ve said something.” After waiting in the rain, traveling to New York, and buying more merchandise at the event, maybe I should have. But I’m different. I take people for who they are, and I move accordingly.