As we weave through suburban neighborhoods blasting "Acid Rap," the mixtape that brought Chance the Rapper his much deserved attention and led to this Social Experiment Tour, I feel particularly connected with his lines in “Pusha Man/Paranoia” about the relative difficulty of finding parking spots compared to guns and moments later particularly disgusted that I would compare my “struggs” to the plight of the youth in Chiraq.

These feelings of connection and euphoria mixed with the mature depth and reflexive sadness that Chancellor Bennet possesses are the norm for a solid listening of his work, creating an overall melancholy atmosphere to his content. Walking by his bus in front of the El Rey Theater, Chance opens the door personally to welcome a female friend of his inside, and I am lucky enough to wish him the best before his performance. Without smiling, he gives a half nod and whispered a thank you before shutting the door.

Inside the venue, the crowd is mostly college-aged kids and younger, skewing towards the demographic that can hit the high notes of Chance’s signature “IGH!” ad-lib without even trying. My friend and I joke that were we are oldest people in the room at the ripe ages of 20 and 19 respectively.

After the DJ serves up the harder stuff like “Shabba Ranks” and “Work,” the teenage girls still in middle school twerked and sang along to Kanye West’s “Bound 2” before he transitioned into EDM laden with rap samples to raise the energy as the Chance’s live band set up on stage.

Bursting forth to the tune of "Acid Rap’s" intro, “Good Ass Intro,” Chance and his antics immediately show the polish that comes with watching the game tape of all-time great performers like Michael Jackson and Kanye West.

Crooning in all the right places and dancing spastically but rhythmically, he and his band move in unison as Chance the Rapper reassures himself that he has indeed done good work. The crowd on the other hand needs no such assurance as we frantically scream all the words back at him. 

After this song, the first set transitions into his bleeding songs like “Pusha Man/Paranoia,” the ones dealing with feelings of loneliness among a sea of connections, and he makes the most out of the trumpets, drums, snares, and piano to evoke these feelings often too hard to pin down with words. For the remaining time the band is on the stage, Chance is more subdued, holding onto the microphone tightly and often just wandering in circles as he sing-songs lines like “Damn I’m in so deep girl/Probably cause your empty.”

In front of me, the perpetuity of high school love is being cemented with over-wrought hook-ups and intense grinding. Chance also uses the projector exceptionally, cutting between passionate kisses and twerking asses during his ode to empty love “Lost.” The immature school-yard chant “NaNa,” sans Action Bronson unfortunately, brings the energy back up towards the band’s end, before he and the band abruptly exist leaving the crowd to murmur whether or not he was finished so early on.

In fact though, the silence is a reversed version of the gap in between “Pusha Man” and “Paranoia” that serves to work the crowd up into false anxiety before Chance returns without the instruments to perform bass-heavy bangers like “Smoke Again” and “Favorite Song” and “Juice” with more jumping and crumping. The whole set is a blur as the crowd is worked into a frenzied mob of waving hands before once again chance disappearing backstage.

And then the performer in Chancellor really shines, as he coaxes us to call him out for one more song with a speech about a dream in which Jay and Kanye advise their young protege only to return to the stage only if the crowd demands him. In a bit of subliminal advertising, the projector screen flashes between “CHANCE” and “CHANTS” as the crowd grows louder and louder.

As Chance puts it, “Before I could make a decision to go back out, my feet were already walking,” as he dives back on stage to perform the interlude “That’s Love.” Hands sway, the crowd explodes, and love is actually palpable. He follows that magical moment with performances of “Chain Smoker” and then brings out his Save Money Militiaman Vic Mensa, who almost loses his beanie in a crowd dive, for “Cocoa Butter Kisses” to end the show.

Leaving, the crowd is fully satisfied by the emotional experience of a Chance The Rapper concert. At times, we felt connected to the artist subtly pleading with us to chant his name, and  when he wandered and sang, we felt the rift between us created by the stage and metal fences and life circumstances.

What really struck me were the times that Chancellor took out of the concert to address the crowd. Before playing his submission to Lil Wayne’s "Dedication 5," “You Song,” Chance addressed the crowd and remaked that we were good listeners and that this was the only time he could talk to us fans, a somewhat contradictory comment for a person who is now making a living by giving his words out to people.

The concert had clearly been warmly calculated to elicit the full emotional range that Chance puts into all of his work. His sing-song style, obvious attention to detail, knack for unique and infectious beats make him a strong candidate to become the pop smash he predicts he will be in “Juice” without sacrificing the depth of his work. His performance was another more example of Chance making the terrifying complexities and challenges of life sound easy and navigable and at times very fun.

Reach Staff Reporter Danny Galvin here; follow him on Twitter.