The Majestic Theatre’s vintage facade illuminated the darkness outside like a scene from a vintage noir film. The retro styling contrasted sharply with the atmosphere leaking from within – the Versace-branded fantasy world of Jody Highroller, aka Riff Raff, role model and rapper extraordinaire. The stage was lit with mellow aqua and purple spotlights. A colossal black light highlighted the bright neon garb of rap game Larry Bird himself. The scene was a perfect visualization of Riff Raff’s eccentric personality, as though he was projecting his very essence across the stage and into the audience. “How To Be a Man” blared as Riff threw fistfuls of dollar bills into the front row, making it the second most popular form of greenery among the audience.

His set progressed like a highlight reel as he performed only the finest and most popular tracks from his astoundingly prolific discography. He played tag team with his speakers, taking verses when it suited him and letting his tracks play unassisted when he took frequent breaks to sip water or whip his neon pink mane around. His spicy Texas twang reverberated through the audience as he delivered monologues on living the lifestyle of an “Icon” and how it feels to pick up women in drop-top foreign whips. His velvety Versace vocals washed over the eager ears of the audience before him as the deep bass of his tracks shook brains like Bond’s martinis. Riff Raff dropped his own verses mid-bar as his voice continued through the towering speakers stacked onstage. His icy Balmain blue eyes rolled upwards and his Vine-famous shark tooth grills gnashed as he appeared to continue dropping lyrics in sign language. Ciroc splashed among his ragtag squad assembled onstage, a tremendously diverse group ranging from baby-faced art students to hulking bodyguards with $50k pinky rings. The Neon Icon’s highlighter-hued silhouette was mirrored in hundreds of Snapchat screens for his final number of the night and recent hit, “Tip Toe Wing In My Jawwdinz.” The song faded out as Riff made a surprisingly abrupt exit. The show was over by 10:30 p.m., with Riff’’s set lasting only 40 minutes and giving every audience member a surprise souvenir case of tinnitus.

Some may have been left feeling understandably underwhelmed by the performance. Riff’s concert revolved around the spectacle of his eccentric, Hermés-fueled presence rather than the artistic and faithful delivery of his tracks, which were decidedly lacking. Yet this was oddly fitting and in many ways rather appropriate considering the artist. Riff Raff’s fame is largely built upon the absurdity of his character and his social media antics, with his music coming second to simply basking in the lavish and utterly irreplaceable character that is the Neon Icon. Sure, the set could have been longer and Riff could have focused more on artistic expression. But is that what we want from the Neon Icon, a man known just as much for his Versace lifestyle as he is for his tracks? In his own words, “iTS OK iF U DONT LiKE ME, BECUZ MY BANK ACCOUNT iS DOiNG GYMNASTICS.”