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If you’re at an Earl Sweatshirt concert in 2025, it’s probably time to accept the fact that you’re getting old.
I had to reckon with this truth as I surveyed the scene at the House of Blues on November 11, before the LA-based alternative rapper took the stage on the latest leg of his 3L World Tour. The crowd looked like they shopped exclusively at Zumiez and Hot Topic as teenagers, which was quite a humbling revelation. It’s very possible that some of us even used to be cool before they invented TikTok.
But if the latter half of Earl’s career has told us anything, there’s something to be said of age and the wisdom it brings. He is no longer the angsty teenage rap prodigy who rose to stardom under a microscope as a member of the hip-hop collective Odd Future more than a decade ago. While former bandmates Tyler, The Creator and Frank Ocean went on to become industry titans, Earl’s progression after dropping his critically acclaimed 2015 album, I Don’t Like S**t, I Don’t Go Outside, has decidedly taken a mellower, more introspective trajectory.
It’s obvious he’s come to terms with himself in a way that his early fans—including myself—probably couldn’t have imagined 10 years ago. His aptly titled fifth studio album, Live Laugh Love, which came out in August, traces his journey into his new identity as a husband and father. For many fans, this relatively recent shift towards a more positive outlook couldn’t have come at a better time. At some point, we’ve all got to stop holding our own happiness hostage and let the good things in life come to us. And if Earl can do that, surely, we can, too.
This new ethos was obvious throughout his 26-song set, which notably didn’t feature a single track from I Don’t Like Sh**, I Don’t Go Outside. At one point, a fan requested “Grief” off that project, but Earl laughed it off in an obvious acknowledgement of the fact that he no longer wishes to perform his older, darker, grittier stuff.
Instead, he favored later releases like 2018’s Some Rap Songs, or his 2023 collaboration with The Alchemist, VOIR DIRE. The former was the point at which Earl began to emerge from his potent sense of youthful melancholy to explore the world beyond his closed shades, and standout entries like “Azucar,” “The Mint,” “Ontheway” and “The Bends” really drove that point home. In total, he’d play roughly half of the songs from both of those albums.
There were admittedly very few certified bangers presented on this night, but occasional treats like “Molasses” from his 2013 debut, Doris, certainly resonated with fans. Many of us recited every word. Elsewhere, he performed a few unreleased tracks like “Nuclear War,” “Warrior (Namaste)” and “Word to the Truest.”
The crowd was smaller than many shows I’ve been to in Vegas thus far, but the appeal Earl has for those who do follow him lies in his ability to foster a connection with listeners over relatable struggles, insecurities and traumas. For well over a decade now, he’s consistently delivered some of the most meticulously penned bars in the game over self-crafted, experimental lo-fi beats, and his keen attention to detail is what keeps us coming back year after year to hear about the latest leg in his personal evolution.
In many ways, it’s a highly personal parasocial relationship, and Earl seems acutely aware of this now. Not once did he request more energy from the crowd or demand that they open up the pit. He’s not interested in that kind of aesthetic. For him, and indeed for many of us in attendance, the limelight isn’t worth pursuing if you have to compromise on your own artistic vision and beliefs.
He closed on a cover of “New Faces,” which was a collaboration between him and the late, great Mac Miller. It was a subtle nod to his past and a powerful way to honor both Mac’s legacy and the progress he’s made as an artist after his friend’s untimely death in 2018.
Since that tragic loss, Earl has gone on to become a bit of a scion in the underground, experimental rap scene. He’s inspired countless others, like openers Zelooperz and Cletus Strap, to follow his lead. That maturity is a far cry from the horror-core rapper many remember him as, and the fact that he seems to have finally found his zen is evident in his genuine interactions with the crowd.
“Las Vegas, take care of each other, for real,” he said late in the set. “And take care of yourselves, too.”
The younger, far more apathetic Earl would have avoided such earnestness, but it’s clear he means it here. Perhaps it's time for all of us to take a page out of his book by living, laughing and loving a bit more.
English (US) ·