“Nah, I heard his first tape and I thought it was kind of odd, I don’t really dig his sound.”

“Trust me, this’ll change your mind.”

That was the exchange that led to my reluctantly downloading Acid Rap, and the start of a yearlong infatuation with Chance the Rapper that capped off with an unforgettable Lollapalooza performance, perhaps the best live show that I’ve ever seen.

As I watched Chance hold court in front of what he claimed to be 60,000 people this past Sunday, reeling off supercharged, impeccably arranged versions of Acid Rap and 10 Day cuts with the Social Experiment, I couldn’t help but think about the first time I saw him on stage.

It was a little over a year ago, June 15^th, 2013 to be precise, at Europa, a small club in Brooklyn. In fact, it was Chano’s first ever show in New York (#hipstercred).

After listening to Acid Rap incessantly for six weeks I couldn’t wait to catch him live, but as I muscled my way into an ideal spot on the standing room floor I glanced up at the small stage and was troubled.

What made Chance’s music resonate with me almost as much as his uncanny knack for wordplay was the lush instrumentation and expansiveness of his beats, which were unparalleled for a young MC.

So when I saw just a basic turntable setup and a single microphone stand I was somewhat disappointed, worried even.

Some 30 minutes later, Chance came out and juked his ass off through the first two minutes of “Good Ass Intro” before cutting suddenly to “Brain Cells.”

It felt surprisingly hollow. There was plenty of energy, but the blaring monitors cheapened up the instrumentals, and the truncated versions of the tracks sold some of Chance’s best verses short.

His set ended up being solid, but the lasting takeaways were that I watched a girl in front of me download and sign up for Vine so she could start sending Chance the Rapper Vines ostensibly to no one and the belief that Chance’s show just didn’t do his music a true service.

Fast-forward a year, and Chance’s star has risen higher than I could’ve imagined. He’s toured all over the world, turned down a deal with Top Dawg Ent., and become the en vogue rapper of today, all without compromising his creativity.

His penchant for vulnerability, and perhaps his closeness in age have always made me particularly protective of Chance as an artist. I vehemently defend him to anyone who says he’s overhyped, and race to hear any track or demo or verse of his that surfaces.

The one thing I still couldn’t really defend was his live show, at least not from personal experience.

I’d heard stories about his chemistry with his new band, made up largely of people involved with the production of Acid Rap or part of his Save Money crew, I’d watched videos of him murdering new tracks like “Paradise,” and even seen glimpses of it myself at Dillo Day, albeit that was in front of a lethargic crowd with me not in prime music-appreciating shape.

So the one compromise I would not make at Lollapalooza was missing Chance’s headlining set, I simply had to see for myself if it was true.

It was. And it wasn’t just the size of the crowd.

From the opening notes of “Good Ass Intro” the change was undeniable. The music sounded bigger, it sounded sharper, it sounded right.

Even somber tracks like “Everybody’s Something” and “Paranoia” shined and crackled with incredible life, every unexpected guitar lick and horn blare perfectly timed.

Gone was the need for constant, manic energy that I first saw in Brooklyn. Chance was controlling the stage, enunciating and expressing himself vocally in a way he simply did not do a year ago. He ripped through almost every song in its entirety, accompanied by a mesmerizing lightshow that took full advantage of Perry’s, Lollapalooza’s EDM stage.

The guest appearances from Vic Mensa and, of course, R. Kelly, only heightened the frenzy, but this was clearly Chance’s show, and he made every minute absolutely captivating.

New cuts like “Home Studio” and “Wonderful Everyday” that we have only heard in demo form sounded not only finished, but perfected, a product of the Social Experiment’s chemistry, the environment and mainly Chance’s maturation as an artist.

Sure there were a few moments that didn’t totally click, like Chance trying to get everyone to juke in a field so muddy we were practically cemented in place, but they were few and far between, doing little to denigrate the set’s quality.

It’s rare that we get to see behind the curtain with a rapper in a way that feels genuine and not contrived, and that’s what makes Chance’s connection with his fans so powerful.

Artists like Childish Gambino and Drake are all about vulnerability, but on their own terms. When you hear Chance talking about saving Chicago, as he did after “Paranoia,” or remarking that he went to school just a few blocks away from Grant Park, it seems completely earnest and real.

If you’ve followed Chance closely, even just over the last year like I have you’ve seen him grow up in a way unlike maybe any rap artist before him.

To me, a new chapter of his career started with that Lollapalooza performance, and it’s mind-blowing to think he’s the same performer who left me with a bitter taste just 13 months ago.