Why It’s a Big Deal for New York’s Brightest Young Rappers to Play a Hometown Show

On Sunday night, veteran radio DJ Funkmaster Flex delivered a speech to a crowd of 3,000 excited New Yorkers, like a principal holding an assembly. “I haven’t seen music like this Brooklyn scene in a long time. We can’t fuck it up,” he pleaded, talking about the local drill rappers everyone had come to witness. “You see all those cops outside? They’re here for your safety, but they’re also the eyes. Let’s not do what they expect us to do when we leave here tonight. If these artists can’t have a safe show in their own hood, the out-of-state calls won’t come. It’s on us right now.”

Billed as BK Drip, the concert was the first-ever major showcase of Brooklyn drill rap—the subgenre adopted from Chicago—within the borough. It took place at Kings Theatre, a palace-like venue that has previously hosted an Elizabeth Warren rally, along with shows by Bon Iver, Gladys Knight, and the Brooklyn Youth Chorus. Headlined by three of the scene’s most established names—Pop Smoke, Fivio Foreign, and Sheff G—the show felt like a pipe dream when it was announced because of how the NYPD has targeted events like this before.

Last summer, the traveling hip-hop festival Rolling Loud landed at Queens’ Citi Field, bringing with it the rare promise of Brooklyn drill being performed in New York City. But hours before the festival began, the NYPD requested that Rolling Loud pull five names from the lineup, four of whom were affiliated with Brooklyn’s drill scene: Sheff G, Pop Smoke, 22Gz, and Casanova. The NYPD feared the scene because of its alleged affiliation with Brooklyn’s gang culture, but intertwined with that was an unspoken fear of black kids gathering in one space, something the police department has often attempted to prevent. The founder and owner of Rolling Loud, Tariq Cherif, obliged and cut the acts from Rolling Loud’s bill, stating that the festival would not be allowed to return to New York if he didn’t. It was beginning to look like Brooklyn drill may never get the chance to have its hometown moment.

Sunday night’s show came together because of promoter Adam Torres—who has booked shows in some of New York’s most storied venues, including Radio City Music Hall—and Kings Theatre’s commitment to being a cultural hub in Brooklyn. “There was some trepidation about working with these guys because of what happened at Rolling Loud,” admitted Kings Theatre general manager Stefanie Tomlin a day before the show. “But I couldn’t wrap my head around how they’re from New York and they can’t get booked here. If they can’t play in Brooklyn, where can they play?” Tomlin not only saw the BK Drip show as a business opportunity to serve a culture desperate to see their scene onstage, but also as a way to be a positive advocate for a subgenre that nobody else seemed willing to take a chance on. “If we do our jobs right, we can help change the trajectory of these kids’ careers,” Tomlin added.

Before the concert began, a feeling of unease was in the air. A note posted on the venue’s doors read, “Due to unforeseen circumstances, Pop Smoke will not perform at tonight’s show.” For fans, the cancellation felt like déjà vu. “This happens every time I try to see him,” said a 23-year-old Brooklynite in a denim jacket named Mike. “They don’t want to see him prosper. Nothing negative has ever happened. They’re haters.” But the show went on, with local drill rappers Fivio Foreign and Sheff G still on the bill alongside non-Brooklyn drill artists like Polo G, Melii, and PnB Rock.

Inside, Kings Theatre transformed into an NYC hip-hop prom. Palm Angels and True Religion tracksuits were everywhere; Balenciaga runners and fresh-out-the-box Timberland boots were a must; Brooklyn hoodies purchased at local streetwear destination Vinnie’s Styles were worn with pride; and the outwear stretched from Moncler puffer coats to Canada Goose parkas. Parents snapped pictures of their kids, who marveled at the theater’s lavish architecture, while teenagers gave their Snapchat followers MTV Cribs-like tours.

As fans ignored the assigned seating, crowding the aisles and switching spots freely, Sheff G took the stage. The moment his breakout track “No Suburban” began, Kings Theatre turned into a Brooklyn high-school lunchroom. Fans Wooo Walked on chairs as security tried unsuccessfully to stop them from rushing the stage. During one of Sheff’s slow piano tracks, couples made out behind the massive baroque pillars and slow-danced.

Fivio Foreign’s set had a similar reckless energy. Screams erupted from the balcony as the rapper appeared on stage; some kids around me were nearly in tears as they FaceTimed their friends who couldn’t make it. Fivio rattled through his small catalog, and the crowd recited every word to street hits like “WAKA,” “Jumpin,” and “Critical.” He ended his set with “Big Drip,” arguably Brooklyn drill’s most essential song, and the crowd yelled, “Bitch I’m on demon time” with him. By the end of his set, even some parents were stepping on their chairs alongside their children.

In the last few years, Brooklyn drill has meant everything to homegrown New York kids, and BK Drip offered a rare, overdue outlet for that enthusiasm. And clearly, it doesn’t have to be the last time: All night, police cars sat outside the venue, and security was heavy, as they all waited for something to go down. But it never did.

Originally Appeared on Pitchfork