‘Stardust’ Danny Brown kept the rave pumping at Marquee Theatre show

As I handed my ticket to the Marquee Theater security to see Danny Brown on Dec. 2, a strange moment of reflection washed over me. I’ve been a fan of the Detroit-born emcee for over 15 years.

It’s not that the length of time is outlandish, especially compared to other musicians, bands, or rappers. I’ve been listening to De La Soul for over 30 years. Hell, I still look forward to new music from Nas, who has been at it since the early ’90s. What made Danny’s staying power so remarkable?

Then it hit me: I’ve grown together with Danny Brown. From lucid late-night raving to early 40s sobriety, Danny Brown’s story was a loose facsimile of my own life. For over 15 years, our lives were almost parallel in their respective growth.

Standing on the Marquee’s sloped concrete show floor — a venue element seemingly designed to obliterate knee cartilage in anyone older than 30 — I remembered the many prior shows I’d seen Danny perform. I remember inciting the mosh pit at Crescent Ballroom on the Atrocity Exhibition tour and screaming the lyrics to “Smokin and Drinkin,” middle fingers raised high, at the now-defunct Lost Lake Festival. And now here Danny and I were, completely sober, still kicking. 

The venue was filled with 20-something-year-olds in rave attire, unaware of the knee pain that would define their rapidly approaching middle age, alongside older Danny Brown fans like myself leaning against the walls for relief, and dads in cross-trainers chaperoning teenagers, mostly excited for the openers. Toronto-based artist Femtanyl opened the show with an assault of jungle beat chest-punchers, followed by singer Underscores, who kept the room electrified with a bevy of nostalgia-laced hyperpop numbers. The mosh pits that formed for both performances forced me to cower against the walls for cover with the other cross-trainer-wearing oldies.

Stellar delivery

How was Danny Brown, now sober at 44 years old, able to keep up with this kind of energy? How was the “Adderall Admiral” able to command this audience without his Adderall? Questions that dominated my mind as I stretched on the outskirts of the crowd waiting for Danny to come out and deliver answers. And deliver he did.

Stardust Danny Brown strutted out to screams, shirtless with a hooded fur bomber into a cube of light as his stage design. Opening with “Starburst,” Brown rapped focused and precise for the following three songs from his latest release, barely acknowledging the sea of headbangers covered in sweat.

By this time, I had moved dangerously close to the mosh pit that seemed to be getting larger for each song. Danny launched into a melody of classics from the start of his career to the current day, including “Lie4” from his “XXX” album and “Dip” from his album “Old.” Regardless of his newfound sobriety and the juxtaposition of the drug-focused content of his older material, Danny delivered the crowd favorites with gusto, his arms windmilling as he marched from one side of the stage to the other.

This is where I realized the parallels between my life and Danny’s ended. Danny Brown was in prime form while I was busy doing the sore-feet dance. The fur coat that he walked out with had been tossed to the side and bathed in the green hues of his stage lighting. Danny looked inhuman for a man in his 40s. His rockstar frame, silhouetted in an emerald hue, made him look reptilian. I expected his jaws to unhinge as he rapped every bar of his hits without miss. He would go on to perform his entire set with no spotlight, delivering hit after hit as a silhouette.

After an hour of relentless breakbeat, drum and bass, and techno-pop, the karate chops did nothing to quell the reciprocal energy of the Marquee crowd. Danny was joined by tourmates Femtanyl and Underscores for their respective Stardust collaborations, “1L0v3myL1f3!” and “Copycats,” both of which received an explosion of fanfare. Danny went on to thank his tour buddies for reigniting his love for making music. Brown reminded the crowd of his hilarious charm, revealing that he almost didn’t make it to the show because he ate at Hot N Juicy Crawfish two times. “Unc can’t be eating like that,” he quipped, punctuated by his signature high-pitched laugh.

‘Uncs’ at the rave

Danny and I defying age together. Danny doing so with much more stamina than myself, but together nonetheless. As I plotted an ice pack for my knees, Danny launched into his final number, “All4U,” after thanking Phoenix for riding with him his entire 15-plus-year career. A fitting tribute for a city that seems to only show up for the most mainstream of acts.

I couldn’t help but smile, leaving the Marquee Theater, jubilant that Danny Brown and I were growing old together. The ever-evolving saga of Danny Brown: from the trenches of Detroit rap into the stardust of pop culture infamy.