Live Review: Bryson Tiller, Mat Cant

Waiting in the ridiculously long queue, which stretches right around the block, is anything but boring. Security guards catch a few punters with cans of alcohol and pour them out, the contents fizzing all the way down Hosier Lane as amused onlookers watch. Mates huddle together shoving handfuls of hot Nandos chips into their mouths to "take the edge of the vodka", a couple of dudes discuss calling in sick to work tomorrow so they can attend the after-party tonight, another group discuss how munted they were on the weekend and yell, "ROUND TWOOOO!" every so often until they finally reach the door of Forum Theatre. 

After close to half an hour of listening to Mat Cant's R&B selection booming out through the theatre walls, we step into the foyer to be greeted by punters twerking near the door and another group literally legging it down the stairs toward the bar. It doesn't feel like a Wednesday at all, it's more like Friday night - peak party time - and the vibe in here is nuts.

If we took a shot for every time a group yelled, "FUCK IT UP, FUCK IT UP, FUCK IT UP!" to their mate, encouraging them to dance and drop it low for an Instagram story, we'd be completely wasted in less than ten minutes. The large space and many mirrors outside the ladies restroom make the perfect place for shenanigans such as this and, of course, photo shoots aplenty featuring some seriously killer outfits. Punters clutching cups head straight from the bar to the D-floor where Cant continues to play everything from SZA to Khalid to Kendrick Lamar. When it's time for him to jet off stage, a long playlist of D'Angelo's delicious tunes take over and play quietly over the buzzing crowd. 

The lights go down and the phones go up. That seems to be the protocol in recent times and we just can't get our heads around it. A few even quickly get Facebook live stream started and settle in, resting against a wall to watch the entire set through their phone screen. In a boom of thunder and flashing lights, Bryson Tiller appears on stage and Rain On Me opens with those gorgeous sampled vocals by '90s R&B group SWV. 

He energetically weaves in and out of his albums, Trapsoul and True To Self, giving us a taste of both old and new material. The stage set-up tonight is pretty bare, with just a drummer on one side and DJ on the other - but this empty space is filled up with some really gripping graphics that are projected on the stage's back wall during each song. It's an Instagram-friendly haven up in here and punters are living for it. There are visuals of endless icy mountain tops, burning cigarettes, swinging light bulbs and most engaging are the lyrics of No Longer Friends that appear perfectly timed with Tiller's vocals. He takes every pause between songs to thank the crowd for their support and, of course, this is always met with a roar of applause. 

"Ay shit, man, this song makes me want to text my ex!" a dude jokingly screams at his mate during Exchange. Tiller's tasty take on writing sad bangers is all part of his appeal. It's all about the angsty, emotional lyrics about an ex, or complicated lover, with a heavy bass line and a spicy hook that everyone can wail along to. Run Me Dry brings out the exotic dancer within for a lot of punters and this only escalates when it's time for one of the most popular tracks of the year - Wild Thoughts (Tiller's collab with DJ Khaled and Rihanna).

"THIS IS NOT A MUTHAFUCKING GAME!" the crowd yells in amazing, angry unison for Rambo as the flashing yellow screen illuminates the room. This is followed by an absolutely explosive drum solo that keeps the crowd stunned for the next few tracks before Don't - undoubtedly Tiller's biggest hit. Punters sing with eyes closed and fists punching the air. "Always, always, always be true to yourself," Tiller tells the crowd while the Set It Off intro gets us hyped. But, instead, he leaves the stage without another word. Abrupt?  Slightly. But there's no time to wait, because everyone's already finished their drinks, booked their Uber and now jump over one another to catch a glimpse of Tiller at the after-party.