Adjust font size Save for Later Email to Friends Print Mode Submit your own content on this or any topic. Get started . Lights go up onstage at the Steppenwolf Theatre, revealing one man.
The bass drum lays down the initial beat. The snare adds a layer of back beats. A boom, chick, boom-boom, chick, punctuated by an explosive blow to the crash cymbal.
It's an orgy of percussion, and it's all coming from a single mouth. Yuri Lane's face is animated as he rattles air in and out of his mouth. His checks inflate and deflate.
His lips pucker, purse, and ripple. His head moves up and down to the sound of his own beat. He leans forward and sticks his left hand out as if he's bracing himself to start breakdancing.
He remains upright, though, as his feet sync up to the music in coordinated dance moves. Although his feet may be crip-walking, it's hard for audiences to take their eyes off his mouth. His right hand reaches for his pocket, pulling out a harmonica and raising the instrument to his lips.
It sounds like a drum machine spitting beats through the holes of the harmonica as the one-man oral percussion section finds its melody. In a cross-generational, genre-blending art form, Yuri Lane combines impressive beatboxing skills with versatile harmonica playing to produce a sound unlike any other. Dropping old school beats all over Chicago, Lane's got the hip-hop blues, and he's got it bad.
A 5'7" white guy with blue eyes and a receding hairline, Lane does not look like hip-hop. The moment he opens his mouth, though, preconceived notions quickly evaporate. "White boy's got rhythm!
" is the response Lane frequently receives when he performs in hip-hop clubs across the country.
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