Clipse returns in fighting form at YS Firehouse

Virginia Beach-raised brothers Malice and Pusha T, collectively known as Clipse, struck subtly different postures while stalking the stage at YS Firehouse in nearby Yellow Springs on Sunday. 

Pusha T carried himself almost universally with a playful menace that bled into his carefully targeted delivery, while big brother Malice took a more observational stance, often scanning the crowd with security detail intensity as he rapped. Both, however, were clearly enjoying the moment, their frequent between-song smiles betraying the sense of joy each must have felt once again being in the other’s company, the duo’s return to the stage arriving in the wake of a nearly 15-year stretch in which the two traversed individual paths. (Released in mid-July, the new Clipse LP, Let God Sort Em Out, is the pair’s fourth studio album but its first since 2009.)

And yet, the rappers emerged in Yellow Springs as if almost no time at all had eclipsed, kicking things off with a tone-setting one-two punch. Opener “Popular Demand (Popeyes)” hinted at the group’s extended absence – “You miss me don’t you?” the two rapped – while “What Happened to That Boy” established the themes that permeated the remainder of the intense but abbreviated 40-minute set, namely the pair’s ability to deal out cocaine and/or revenge, Pusha T rhyming “quit yer yappin’” with an explicit threat to leave “your body parts mix and matchin’.”

There might have been a point in time that Clipse’s reunion would have been unimaginable to some, the brothers first parting ways when Malice, born Gene Thornton, left the group to immerse himself more deeply in religion, eventually releasing a pair of Christian-leaning albums under the name No Malice. (“Came back for the money, that’s the devil in me,” he rapped here on Let God Sort Em Out track “P.O.V.,” offering at least one means of explanation for his return.) In this absence, Pusha T, or Terrence Thornton, joined forces with Ye (formerly Kanye West), becoming president of his G.O.O.D. Music label and releasing a series of mostly excellent solo LPs that exist comfortably within the Clipse universe.

The duo’s return has been embraced by audiences, with its well-reviewed new album debuting at No. 4 on the Billboard 200 and nationwide tour set to kick off on Aug. 3 in Boston – Clipse’s first cross-country jaunt in 16 years. Expectedly, tickets to the Yellow Springs gig were a hot commodity, attributable to a combination of factors but primarily to the intimate nature of the revamped former firehouse, which has capacity of maybe 200 people. “I don’t know how you did it,” comedian and venue owner Dave Chappelle said in introduction on Sunday. “I don’t know how you got tickets to this concert.”

At least part of Clipse’s long-held appeal is rooted in its unwillingness to chase trends, adhering to both a subject (the drug trade, which it recounts with the evocative detail of a Don Winslow cartel novel) and a sound, rapping almost exclusively over minimalist, diamond-hard beats. With Let God Sort Em Out, though, the two allow more personal dimensions to emerge, beginning the album with “The Birds Don’t Sing,” an emotionally resonant track on which the brothers confront losing both of their parents in quick succession, Pusha’s recollection of his final phone call with his mother only eclipsed in its devastation by Malice’s follow-up verse, on which the rapper recounts the morning he discovered his father’s body.

At YS Firehouse, at least, the two refrained from letting these cracks show, instead leaning into comparatively venomous new tracks such as “Chains & Whips,” a punishing tune on which Pusha T pledged to “close your heaven for the hell of it,” and the equally brutal “Ace Trumpets,” on which Malice updated his growing cocaine thesaurus, rapping of the fortune he amassed slinging “Lady Gaga.” These songs aligned well with a series of resurfaced classics, including the deeply unapologetic “Momma I’m So Sorry” and the Novocain-numbed “Mr. Me Too,” which found the pair editing a line from the recorded version to remove a reference to one former associate turned pariah. (“Me and Push hoppin’ off the plane,” the duo rapped, subtly swapping in Push for Puff, aka Sean “Diddy” Combs.)

Don’t confuse a willingness to cut lyrical ties for pulling punches, however, with Malice and especially Pusha T consistently appearing eager and willing to mix it up in their long-overdue return to the stage. Witness the pugnacious, clip-unpacking “So Be It,” which the pair delivered two consecutive times to close the set, Pusha locking in on his final verse with the concentrated intensity of an MMA fighter pouncing atop a floored opponent to deliver a flurry of match-finishing blows.