Lauryn Hill apparently knows what most people in the room are thinking. Punctuating an amped-up Final Hour, she cocks her head towards the front row and announces: “Lauryn Hill is in Cardiff, it’s real.”
As recently as a week ago, that didn’t seem like a sure thing. This tour was due to bring together Hill and Fugees, the megastar rap trio she co-founded with Wyclef Jean and Pras Michél in the early 90s, in a co-headlining blowout. But a US leg of the tour in August was cancelled, with Hill blaming “media outlets’ penchant for sensationalism and clickbait headlines” for low ticket sales. Then Michél sued Hill for fraud and breach of contract relating to the group’s cancelled 2023 comeback run, claims that Hill has described as “baseless”. So while Wyclef is here, Pras, unsurprisingly, is not in the building.
For fans, this was the latest twist in a narrative that goes back to 1998 and the release of Hill’s era-defining solo album. As the long wait for a follow-up to The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill has stretched on, some of the music’s power has perhaps become shrouded in beef and counter-beef, with tours pulled, reports of lateness at shows and a constant sense of uncertainty about who will show up, and when.
So as Hill strides on stage a few minutes after nine, decked out in an oversized pink-on-grey pinstripe suit and platform boots, it feels like seeing a mythical creature in the wild. She instantly lights up Everything Is Everything, the melody malleable in her mouth as its unmistakable chords land like precision jabs.
Throughout, Hill meticulously conducts each movement made by her dozen-strong band. She peels off pitch-perfect vocal runs with undimmed intensity while flicking her wrists in search of a minor adjustment towards a sound she’s chasing. The overall feeling is of seeing something come to life in real time, and it’s thrilling.
Ex-Factor is beefed up with muscular drums but Hill sells its vulnerability, nailing the falsetto and threading trills between a hook that’s held down in equal parts by her backing singers and the crowd. Conversely, she explodes into the verse of Lost Ones, delivering precise, pugnacious bars at high speed while the bass ducks and weaves.
There is a lull when the power goes out during a majestic To Zion, which is followed by her son, Zion Marley, performing an unnecessary solo track. Momentum is regained by the time a deconstructed Doo Wop (That Thing) rattles into the room, its iconic kick drum serving as the trigger for a euphoric drop into the chorus.
When Wyclef emerges from the wings for the Fugees segment of the set, things get enjoyably ragged. He and Hill spark off one another, sharing a small section of the stage that juts towards the crowd, and they rip through Ready or Not and Fu-Gee-La, suddenly kids again. Hill’s Killing Me Softly, though, is show-stopping while illustrating the differences between the night’s two halves – her vision for her solo work is ever-changing and exploratory, but she also delights in playing the hits. It’s real.
Source: theguardian.com
