De La Soul review – bittersweet triumph honours lost bandmate Trugoy’s legacy | Music

Electrifying … DJ Strike.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. De La Soul’s prestigious Royal Albert Hall show was conceived to celebrate their beloved albums finally reaching streaming services after years in limbo. But in February, weeks before their rerelease, MC Dave “Trugoy” Jolicoeur died, and this intended victory lap would now double as a valedictory for the fallen rapper.

The night is, admits Jolicoeur’s partner-in-rhyme Kelvin “Posdnuos” Mercer, “a bittersweet blessing”. They are here “to celebrate our music being let out of prison”, he says, but there’s no escaping Jolicoeur’s absence. It’s an emotional night; Pos even climbs into the stalls to comfort an overcome fan. But the other purpose of the show, he emphasises, is “to celebrate Dave”. The best way to do that? “To party.”

While his surviving bandmate Maseo is absent tonight, Pos doesn’t have to get that party started on his own. Legendary guests sub for Jolicoeur, but rather than some all-star karaoke, the MCs – onetime De La Soul protege Yasiin Bey, and Dres from fellow Native Tongues posse Black Sheep – are family, and deliver his lines from the heart. Damon Albarn duets Gorillaz’ Feel Good Inc with Pos, while former producer and honorary fourth member Prince Paul is a constant, impish presence. The backing group bring his sampledelic productions to vivid life, though tunes featuring just the MCs and longtime touring turntablist DJ Strike are no less electrifying.

Electrifying … DJ Strike. Photograph: Burak Çıngı/Redferns

De La Soul’s infallible pop gift shines bright: delirious disco vamp A Roller Skating Jam Named “Saturdays”, Me, Myself and I’s irresistible neon funk. But there’s space, too, for the resonant philosophising of Stakes Is High, the meditative introspection of Breakadawn. Their ability to express that spectrum of the human experience, with such lightness of touch, such depth, is why the their words have carried further than just the parish of hip-hop, why this glorious wake is such a life-affirming moment.

“We wanted to be like the Rolling Stones, just keep on doin’ it and doin’ it,” Pos says, in a rare maudlin moment. That dream might have been stolen from them, but it’s clear Pos isn’t finished with De La Soul’s legacy yet. This party isn’t over.

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