“Them niggas who get the wrong impression of expression

Then the question is, "Big Boi what's up with Andre?

Is he in a cult? Is he on drugs? Is he gay?

When y'all gon' break up? When y'all gon' wake up?"

Nigga, I'm feelin' better than ever

What's wrong with you, you?

Get down”

- OutKast’s “Return of the ‘G’” (1998)

When you’ve done just about everything, what more is there to do? André 3000 has won six Grammys, sold 20 million records, and has been famous longer than I’ve been alive. In one of the most notable left turns in music history, he decided to continue his legacy by playing the flute. 

Last year, André 3000 released New Blue Sun, an album of ambient, abstract soundscapes that showcase his fascination with the flute and all its variations. It’s a stunning work; simultaneously  dreamlike, confrontational, and meditative. The album was critically lauded, receiving an 8.3 review score from Pitchfork and landing on numerous end-of-year best-of lists. Now, André 3000 is bringing his new ethos to live audiences. However, he is not playing songs from the album. He’s not really even playing songs. He’s just playing.

On Saturday night in Minneapolis, André brought the experience to the Fillmore. Originally booked for the Northrop Auditorium on the University of Minnesota campus, the show’s venue change was unexplained and last-minute. The floor of the Fillmore was filled with foldable chairs instead of the usual standing room only. 

The night began with opener serpentwithfeet. Fresh off of releasing his album Grip earlier this year, he set the tone for the night’s experimentation. Donning a bomber jacket gown that gave him two extra arms, he sang beautifully and even read a passage of Toni Morrison’s Jazz during his performance.

A mature crowd filled the seats of the venue. Preshow conversations overheard around me considered the direction Andre 3000 would take. A group in front of me – who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the Fillmore’s signature strawberry lemonade margarita shaker – wished out loud for a flute cover of “Int’l Players Anthem.”

If you’ve had a pulse for the last century, you have undoubtedly felt André 3000’s effect on music and pop culture. This is the man who made us all shake it like a Polaroid picture. He let all of us know that the South has something to say. A progenitor to rap’s current class of eccentrics like Young Thug and Playboi Carti, André 3000’s work as an artist has made it easier for all of us to be ourselves. 

With that being said, his current direction isn’t so much of a left turn as it is logical progression. A sense of play and whimsy has permeated all of his work — he made a show for Cartoon Network, after all. Letting his artistic spirit guide him, he invited all of us to go along with him on the journey. He understands that many will be disappointed with the new direction, but marches on nevertheless.

It’s a brave move.

But that’s about it. Saturday night’s show wasn’t a show that was meant to be enjoyed, much less understood. Take for example this highlight of the night: In the middle of performing, André began a spirited monologue. The language he spoke was unclear, but he spoke with so much fervor that the audience gleaned that there must be a profound revelation being shared. Directly after finishing his diatribe, he revealed that it was all gibberish and jokes that we probably thought were deep. It was pretty funny, but I can’t help but wonder if this sentiment is the guiding principle of his latest work: Just playing around with the audience and what we expect from him, seeing how far we are willing to follow along.

From what I saw on Saturday night, many people are willing to go on that journey. People scatteredly clapped and exalted during the show. Some people fell asleep. A few people looked kind of pissed.

The New Blue Sun tour is meant to be experienced and seen. Instead of playing tracks from the album, André and his band improvised an extended jam. There were movements and swells, wistful oases to catch a breath, charming dialogues with the audience. But there were no songs. There was only a bath of sound. Pounding pulses from the drum kits; huffs, howls, and breaths from André; swirling arpeggios and drones from the keys. The crisp, powerful sound in the venue added to the experience, as did creative choices of lighting.

I didn’t enjoy Saturday’s show. Mostly because I don’t believe that this is a work meant to be enjoyed. This was a work meant to be experienced. At times I really did feel it — the drones and pulses paired with André’s abstract playing sounded directly from a sci-fi movie soundtrack. Other moments, I began to feel the length of the show, wished there was some sort of structure to the evening, and considered the merit of paying to watch a bunch of men play with themselves. This was a creative statement from a man hellbent on shirking audience expectations throughout his storied career. I appreciate it for that reason, but your mileage may vary.