Erykah Badu @ MGM 11.18.2025

In mid November, Erykah Badu made her much awaited return to Boston’s stage for the 25th Anniversary Tour for Mama’s Gun, an album that has only grown in popularity since its release during Thanksgiving week back in the year 2000. The album is one of Badu’s favorites that she's ever worked on and it makes sense when you see that every song is a story Badu cares to tell and make her listeners feel. For fans seated in MGM, these stories were expanded upon in acoustic sets and short monologues where Badu exemplified her love for her fans and the music she created all those years ago.

As seats began to fill up with fans ranging in age and style, we all waited passively under the dim lights and soft RnB background music for the queen of soul to grace us with her presence. Without an opener, MGM’s din crackled with relentless exuberance. Once the lights began to fade and a sea of fog poured out from backstage, lit by red and orange lights, the two-hour wait was immediately forgotten. Walking with a commanding gate from stage left, Erykah stepped out onto the central cylindrical platform, taking her time as she breathed in the Boston crowd. Dressed in baggy grey sweatpants, an oversized cropped grey hoodie, and 4 inch knee high white heeled boots, Eyrkah wore clothes that accentuated coziness but required help up and off the stage. This embodied the Badu spirit, stylish comfort in a land of discomfort and pedestals. Almost at once, a crescendo of drums introduced Erykah’s booming vocals beginning the first track on the album, “Penitentiary Philosophy.” The crowd was electrified, her warm tones melting away Boston’s wintery frost at last.

Erykah’s music isn’t the type that gets yelled along to, rather, each song develops a long rhythmic intro, encouraging the beat to seep into every part of your mind, body, and soul. This was how “Didn’t Cha Know” kicked off, accompanied by a hungry roar of cheers. With Badu on stage commanding not just the room but the air we all breathed, the first three notes had us hooked. Demonstrating the maturity and depth of her voice, the first verse bellowed throughout MGM in a way no recorded track ever could. With vocal runs and whole notes lasting longer than usual, we could all feel the emotion that backed Badu’s lyrics; in no time her siren song captured us all and she was just getting started. 

Erykah’s infectious love for her music stretched into the audience as her band cut out and she performed the acoustic track “A.D. 2000”. The song recounts the story of 22-year-old Guinean immigrant Amadou Diallo who was shot 42 times for holding up his wallet. The heartbreaking story as retold by Badu was met with a resolute applause. Erykah has always been able to combine real world events and tragedies with her music, since the two inspire one another. Mama’s Gun and the tracks that make it, are all vestiges for conversations with the one purpose of connection and compassion. Anyone who is fortunate enough to see Erykah live will hopefully be inspired by these themes for another 25 years to come.

But Badu’s talent isn’t just found in music, she’s also a performance artist. A little under halfway through her set, two beams of white light dropped from the ceiling. Parting at two twenty-five degree angles, a triangle of light was shaped. Badu creeped down from her platform and stood just behind the mirage. Curious, she reached out to it and a punishing “zap” boomed throughout the hall. Determined to reach her audience, she pushed her way through the wall of light, flashing into existence – at last one with her crowd. Standing 4 inches taller than normal and much closer, the concert began to feel like a poetry reading; it became just us and her. Moved to share, she explained that “Mama’s Gun was named after [her] grandmother’s gun,” that she was always told to never touch Mama’s Gun – just like how this album is untouchable, with each song acting as bullets against hate and pain. An untouchable album paired with untouchable stories, Badu gave us a night to remember by taking care of her audience. She called out to her “sisters” and her “brothers,” because “they never get asked,” and we all felt that funny feeling where strangers bonded can feel like family.