Iggy Azalea

fabric, London | July 9th

Since the releases of her Glory and Trap Gold EPs, the peroxide persona of Grand Hustle’s first lady Iggy Azalea has not only infiltrated the radars of the hip-hop underground, but it’s also propelled her to prime time radio play and onto A-list populated red carpets. Pretty admirable for a girl who once found herself with ‘No money/ no family/sixteen in the middle of Miami’, huh?

Tonight’s Fabric show is in conjunction with media giants HP, and there’s a mood resembling something of an almost-residency, as Iggy has kept her name prominent in fine capital city throughout her rise. West Coast certified and now a staple opener across the plethora of Iggy’s recent live shows, DJ Whizz Kiddprovides the incipient teasings and ignites commotion with vintage hip-hop treasures from Montell Jordan, that are admirably scratched into the likes of Ludacris, causing the already hyperactive crowd to spring like children on a sugar trip.

As illuminated circus-themed features sparkle across the miniature stage, Iggy dives right into the firing line with the snare-laden opener Beat Down, demanding attention thanks to her lightening delivery and pristine clarity in the midst of all the adrenaline. There is, however, one obvious flaw hanging overhead – the crude and seemingly unnecessary employment ofa full-blown backing track -vocals and all- which overshadows from the start.

As a vivacious quartet of metallic hotpant-clad dancers twist and twerk around Iggy, an impressive acapella freestyle of D.R.U.G.S. is distributed, before her self-assured snarl comes into play for MurdaBizness, which is helped along with just the right slice of attitude, before Drop That sees Iggy take a seat centre stage so that her troupe can be thrusted into the limelight.

As the performance progresses on however, it becomes obvious that her craft isn’t as tightly perfected as first thought, as Backseat is half-heartedly paraded, the craftily nabbed DJ Fresh sample upon Golddust presents itself as disjointed and straight-up peculiar to those not in the know, and Pu$$y spins speeches of “If you like pussy, you gotta like cheeks” that are followed by a brazen exhibit of gluteal slapping.

Obviously we all know that women are totally entitled to flaunt their sexuality as and when they choose, however tonight it feels like Iggy Azalea’s undeniable talent becomes totally overshadowed, and this show doesn’t see her sitting comfortably, but neither does it indicate a definitive direction for a fresh artist tipped so highly in such a fast-paced industry.

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Words: Roya Farrokhian