When Noname dropped Telefone a year ago, she proved herself a distinctive, thoughtful talent capable of balancing intellect and intimacy—two qualities I generally don’t associate with Lollapalooza. The mixtape’s quiet effervescence and limber, soul-influenced sound quickly made Noname one of the most sought-after artists in Chicago, though, so of course Lollapalooza’s bookers came calling. The festival has the pull to get almost anyone it wants, and there’s no question Noname is worthy—easily among the best acts on this year’s bill, as vital and relevant musically as Chance the Rapper or Lorde. She was one of the few bright spots in a dismal lineup dominated by forgettable festival-circuit regulars—given that it’s now asking more than $300 for a four-day pass, Lollapalooza ought to aim higher than reminding people that the Killers have songs besides “Mr. Brightside.” But going into her set on Sunday, I was worried about whether Noname’s low-key aesthetic could succeed at a sprawling, crowded festival bustling with distractions, where music often feels like the audience’s third priority—behind partying and, well, more partying.
That said, I doubt the message of “Casket Pretty”—which addresses the terrible rate at which Chicago’s young people of color die by violence—reached anyone new on Sunday. The audience members I could see were either rapt with attention (in which case I’m sure they already knew the words) or wrapped up in conversation. Behind me one teenager perched in a tree and chatted on his phone through the end of Noname’s set. But as thoroughly committed as he was to that conversation, Noname was just as invested in hers—and she was having it with all of us. She closed with the breezy “Yesterday,” with her band quieting down so that the fans in front could help her sing the hook. And for a minute, as those voices came together, it felt like we were in Noname’s world with her.
