Review: Controversial rapper Kevin Gates packs the house at South Side Music Hall

At first listen, the fast-rising Kevin Gates seems like a garden variety rapper, filling his lyrics with he-man bravado and spewing hatred at women. The Baton Rouge native walks the walk, too, judging from multiple prison sentences and a recent video of him kicking a female fan in the stomach after she touched his leg during a show in Florida.

Yet Gates is a complex character. For starters, he's got a master's in psychology — never a bad thing for a lyricist — which he earned in prison.

He also possesses a sweet singing voice and an unabashedly tender side, a combination that had ladies swooning Thursday night at a packed South Side Music Hall. He performed on a stage lit up by 6-foot-tall letters spelling out Islah — the title of his upcoming major label debut album, named after his young daughter — and between songs, he talked about how fatherhood had inspired him to grow up.

Later, he spoke of struggling with depression, drugs and his inability to stop arguing with people: "I feel like nobody [expletive] understands what it's like to be me." For a moment, the tear drops tattooed beneath his left eye looked almost real.

He wasn't afraid to be vulnerable in his songs, either, like "Posed to Be In Love," the tale of a violent bully nursing a broken heart, or "Wish I Had It," his autobiographic hit about yearning for greater things in life: "I'm a good guy that could transform," he rapped.

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In an era when rappers are often on the prowl for endorsement deals, Gates wasn't afraid to burn potential bridges with Red Bull and Monster Energy. "Energy drinks got a real dangerous side effect," he said, preceding "I Don't Get Tired" with some unprintable detail about anatomical problems he attributed to energy drinks.

During his songs, Gates alternated between a lickety-split rap style and a strong tenor that accented the catchy melodies in songs like "Satellites." He acted out his lyrics with energy and pizzazz, leaping around the stage like a kindergartener storming the playground.

The only thing messing up the flow was DJ Ron's insistence on ending every song with machine-gun sound effects followed by the blast of an air-horn, as if he was trying to scare away a flock of grackles. Gates may be a relative newcomer, but at 29, he's old enough to know that these cheesy sound effects are beyond trite.

Thor Christensen is a Dallas freelance writer.