Clipse 013 Poppodium Tilburg – Let God Sort ’Em Out Tour Review.

When the lights dimmed inside 013 Poppodium, the energy in the room shifted like it knew what was coming. Two towering screens flickered to life: “There comes a time when we must answer to the truth,” before the warning from their new record looped through the PA: “This is culturally inappropriate.” Then came the crack of “Chains & Whips.” Fifteen years after their split, Clipse walked out of the shadows like time had learned to wait for them.

Pusha T took the first verse, his delivery cool and clipped, every syllable landing clean. Malice followed moments later, and the crowd’s chants rolled through the hall. There was no need for introductions. Just two brothers, two microphones, and a chemistry that still burns through any generation gap.

Earlier, Jev had set the tone: a sharp and confident warm-up that turned 013 into one giant grin. His mix of rhythm, bounce, and precision loosened the crowd perfectly. By the time Clipse arrived, the room was ready to take it up a notch.

From there, the setlist ran like a timeline. The new album Let God Sort ‘Em Out dominated the first half: “P.O.V.”, “Popular Demand (Popeyes)”, and “What Happened to That Boy” (Birdman cover) appeared early before the brothers dug into deeper cuts like “M.T.B.T.T.F.”, “Inglorious Bastards”, “Momma I’m So Sorry”, “Keys Open Doors”, and “Mr. Me Too.” When “Grindin'” hit, you could feel the floor move. Fans didn’t just rap along; they slapped the rhythm on their chests, lunch-table style, like muscle memory.

The production framed it all: quick-cut footage of courtroom scenes, soldiers, luxury ads, and home videos looping behind them. Equal parts menace and nostalgia. “F.I.C.O.” and “So Be It” carried the weight of their new material, tight and deliberate, before “Ace Trumpets” turned the venue gold with its brass-heavy pulse. They downshifted into “The Birds Don’t Sing,” a quiet, emotional center point that drew the room still.

That last song froze the hall. Family photos filled both screens, the crowd fell silent, and the Thornton brothers rapped their way through loss, memory, and gratitude. No theatrics, just truth. They closed with “So Far Ahead,” fading into darkness while their logo lit the walls.

The last time Dutch fans saw Clipse live was February 2010 at Bitterzoet in Amsterdam, a sweat-slicked 350-capacity club where Kempi opened the night. Bitterzoet’s intimacy, elbows on stage and condensation on the ceiling, is a world away from 013’s 3,000-capacity main hall, a precision-engineered beast built for scale. But Clipse managed to shrink the distance. Even in the big room, it felt eye-level.

No guests tonight, just command. Every word enunciated, no lip-sync safety net, pure craft. Malice beamed through verses that felt both peaceful and razor-sharp. Pusha controlled the pacing like a conductor, turning nostalgia into motion.

There is a lot of talk about legacy in hip-hop. Clipse do not talk, they embody it. Fifteen years later, the brothers from Virginia Beach perform like they never left in 60 minutes.

With their European run now in full swing, Clipse continue the Let God Sort ‘Em Out Tour with shows in Paris, London, and Manchester before heading back to the United States for festival dates in Los Angeles, Virginia Beach, and Brooklyn. The tour then resumes in 2026 with major appearances at Coachella and All Points East in London. Fans looking for Clipse tour dates, tickets, or setlists across Europe, the UK, or the U.S. can find them on the group’s official site. The brothers have hinted that 2026 may bring another leg.