Written by Sam Cove

Every time I find myself in a new city, I can’t help but notice my stomach doing flips as my mind kicks its fight-or-flight instincts into overdrive. It’s bothered me in every city I visit, Chicago was no different—until I found myself at the doors of Thalia Hall in the city’s Pilsen neighborhood, anxiously anticipating my very own Artist of the Century tour experience.

I’d been waiting years to see MIKE live, and longer to visit a dear friend who moved to Chicago. I wanted to visit her, and to see my newly crowned favorite rapper in the flesh. So I packed up my bags and hopped on the cheapest flight I could find.

I spent my first couple days in the city exploring, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was a stranger in this city. Despite having a friend by my side, I felt very much alone in this unfamiliar land.

To cope, I filled my thoughts with what I imagined to be a life-changing show: seeing MIKE belting “Real Love” along with the crowd like I’d seen on Instagram a hundred times.

Once I found myself in the crowd, with a belly full of local tacos and anxiety, I felt my expectations crumbling away as I came to the realization that the Artist of the Century tour was not just about the artist I’d been longing to see. It was about the community he’s put his life’s work into fostering—a community of artists and fans who care, so, so much.

When the lights dimmed, I was still enjoying my high from the joint I smoked behind the venue, observing every detail I could take in. The Palestinian and Tigray flags hung above the stage and cast a feeling of collective solidarity, reminding me of just how big the world is before I was plunged into regional Chicago hip hop that I had never come close to experiencing.

That was the city’s very own Semiratruth, opening the show up in a homecoming performance marking their first return to Chicago since they moved to Brooklyn.

I had never heard Semiratruth’s music before, much less seen them live, and I have to say: they were fucking phenomenal. Semiratruth emerged in a full-body camo moss suit. An outfit I did not expect to see at a MIKE show, but it was the first hint that I was going to witness something pretty damn mind-blowing.

Before any music started, they were joined by another figure—holding, of all things, a flute. The figure—Washington D.C. native BSA Gold—broke out into an ethereal performance which entranced me to the point that it was impossible to tear my eyes away.

“I’m home, baby—make some motherfucking noise,” were the first words they spoke. There’s something really special about witnessing an artist perform in their home city, and Semiratruth quickly went from being someone I only knew by name to somebody who gave me one of my favorite opening act performances I’ve had the pleasure of participating in, as I fed off the enthusiasm from their hometown crowd.

The rest of Semiratruth’s set was emotional, passionate, and full of appreciation. Their outfit bounced with them as they navigated the stage, transitioning between great lyricism and electronic music that had each one of us in the crowd bouncing along with them.

As their set finished, I found myself surrounded by local fans who became talkative after being loosened up by a top-tier opener. The few closest to me raved about how they’d never seen Semiratruth perform quite like that. I could’ve talked with them forever, but that’s when Navy Blue walked on stage.

I’ve wanted to see Navy Blue perform live forever. He’s an artist I would’ve bought a headlining ticket to see, so the one-two punch of him and MIKE had me all-in from the start.

Navy’s music to me really reflects a man who carries a tremendous amount of grief, appreciation, and acceptance. It’s music that’s gotten me through hard times, and made good times better. When he walked out on stage, he seemed to stare directly into my soul—and the soul of everybody in the crowd—calmly looking over us with the solemn smile of a man more than double his age.

I couldn’t look away. He performed “Red Roses,” one of my favorite tracks off of his newest album, but the experience of seeing it live hardly felt the same. There was a directness and clarity that truly allowed me to do nothing else but listen to what he was saying.

The rest of his set carried out in similar fashion. Him, with that smile, performing these songs as if directly talking to us, weaving his experiences with own. The communal energy persisted as I found myself shouting lyrics that I knew so well. The entire crowd chanted “Fuck Christopher Columbus” as one, for his live rendition of “1941.” As a Columbus hater myself, I was ecstatic to say the words collectively.

I’d say Navy Blue’s live performance could be best encapsulated by one of my favorite lyrics of his: “My goal is to inspire every person to be their best selves and find their purpose,” from “Time Slips.” It felt like that was really what he was trying to do. He was tapping into a part of us that allowed us to be our most authentic selves, and nothing less.

Navy had a slow and controlled stage presence, which felt like the perfect way to deliver his music. I felt the intense presence that he can bring just by standing in front of you, grasping the mic in both hands and looking out at the crowd—past us, to something we can’t see or even imagine.

He ended his set with “La Noche,” encouraging the crowd to sing it along with him—and everyone did. Through the communal singing, I felt that feeling of being a stranger wash away, and I was just a voice that was part of this beautiful collective, witnessing truly important people in the hip hop renaissance of the 2020s. With a final farewell and a shoutout to the late and great Ka, Navy Blue was gone as soon as he appeared. But I couldn’t have been set up with better energy for the best part of the night: Big MIKE himself.

MIKE is a lot of things—a great rapper, producer, and human being—but what I learned from seeing him in person is that he’s truly a vessel of straight-up love. By that I mean: love for his partners, his fans, the cities he goes to, his art form, and the culture that he’s become so prominent in. I felt that love the moment he walked on stage, softly yelling “Chicago!” in his raspy one-of-one voice. You could tell he was so happy to be there.

It only took me a couple songs into his set to realize that MIKE might be the best performer I’d ever witnessed. It wasn’t just how he rapped or how he carried himself on stage—he really just felt welcoming.

About halfway into his set, MIKE stopped the show to accept a painting passed to him through the crowd. It was a beautiful collage of images of MIKE’s album cover and performing stills, painted by a local Chicago artist named Justin Heard (@repentyosins). You could see the pure joy beaming from MIKE’s face as he held up the painting, parading it for the whole of Thalia Hall to see.

The love was continuously dished out, as MIKE thanked his openers, DJ, and crew over eight times for the rest of the show. I was witnessing someone who was truly grateful to be living his dream—and knew that he was only as important to that reality as the people he surrounded himself with.

The performance itself was a masterclass, with MIKE asking the crowd repeatedly to “make the most noise in the world”—and we did. I shouted along to “Burning Desire,” “Man in the Mirror,” “Zap!,” and finally “Real Love,” which I’d been waiting to do forever.

Suddenly I wasn’t a stranger in Chicago. I was more than welcomed—I was a part of something special. MIKE’s ability to craft perfect tickets over seventy-one shows is nothing short of miraculous. It’s a statement to his commitment to building community—one that I couldn’t help but feel familiar with after just an hour-long set.

Whether it was vibing with the crowd for his impromptu dance competition or getting to speak with a talented painter who shared my love for this movement, I can only really thank MIKE for this experience, for making me feel at home in a city I barely knew.

You can tell—just by listening—that he cares. His people care. His fans care. In 2025, it’s not cool to be indifferent. It’s cool to be passionate about something. I think MIKE’s music will always remind me of that—and will always give me something to care about.