Chad Batka for The New York Times The rapper Earl Sweatshirt performed Friday at Coachella.INDIO, Calif. â€" At Coachella, everything happens more or less on time, but 2 Chainz was late. His set on Saturday afternoon was meant to start at 4 p.m., but 4:05, 4:10 and 4:15 all passed without sight of him, his band reduced to playing a minute or so of “I’m Different,†which petered out, soon followed by boos.
That 2 Chainz, the most mainstream rap star on this festival’s bill by far, would bring a dose of traditional rap show protocol to this tightly choreographed festival was both refreshing and, to the spillover crowd awaiting him in the Mojave tent, an irritant.
The other rappers of the day played by the rules â€" somewhat. Action Bronson performed early, when the sun was still high in the sky, and spent most of the set shirtless. Someone in the crowd proffered him some food, the subject of many of his lyrics, and he ate it. Someone else handed him a joint, and he smoked it. At one point he ambled up to the barrier separating the photo pit from the crowd, considered it, then climbed it and walked through the crowd, which trailed him as he rapped.
Just afterward, on the same stage, came Danny Brown. Unlike Action Bronson, who effortlessly updates the structurally tight New York rap of the mid-1990s, Mr. Brown is a loose cannon with a nasal delivery, a deceptively melodic flow and a tongue that refuses to stay in his mouth. Both rappers are characters, and popular ones, which is what landed them at Coachella without the benefit of radio airplay or major-label deals.
The same is true, more or less, of Earl Sweatshirt, the Odd Future rapper who performed here Friday night. He was an Internet sensation, then a mystery, and is now one of the most anticipated artists in hip-hop â€" again, without the benefit of traditional outlets (though he is now signed to a major label). His set recalled the organic wordiness of the early-to-mid-1990s. Not surprisingly, when Action Bronson played on Saturday, Earl Sweatshirt was sitting on stage, happily rapping along.
Pusha T, with a couple of different turns early in his career, might have found himself on that stage, too. (As it was, Earl Sweatshirt and Tyler, the Creator, were in the photo pit during his Saturday night performance.)
As part of the rap duo the Clipse, Pusha T was part of the first wave of street-oriented rappers embraced by â€" and to some degree saved by â€" the Internet. It’s a familiar arc now, but when the Clipse was finding its new audience, it was still a novel path.
Now that’s closer to the norm, but Pusha T has been renewed: he is signed to Kanye West’s G.O.O.D. Music imprint, and frequently clothed in black leather. His performance was a blend of the darker, more brutalist drug-dealer rhymes that marked his early years, and some of the glossier but still raw material he’s making now.
All of which comes full circle to 2 Chainz, who is also affiliated with Mr West, and who has become one of hip-hop’s unlikeliest stars. He has a knack for oddball boasts that congeal into sticky hooks and verses. He’s excitable, which is a rarity. He is an outlier in the genre, and he was an outlier here. But his songs are indelible, and the tent was overflowing for his performance â€" he was a misfit, easily fitting in.
