“Don’t be scared, New York. We from Atlanta. Turn up with us, please.”
I almost feel as though New York City didn’t deserve what it was handed on Tuesday. Or at least that’s what I was thinking as I wiped champagne out of my eyes, watching the crowd implode as iLOVEMAKONNEN’s assailant was disposed of.
“Shouts out to y’all who’s rocking with me, and fuck that bitch ass nigga,” declared the stoic OVO signee. Thankfully, he was graceful enough to brush it off and continue the rest of the song. The club resumed its trajectory up on a Tuesday.
Rewind a few hours. I get to S.O.B.'s and there is an iPhone 6-level mob outside that has bottlenecked at the front door while the inside remained a thoroughly uncongested small gathering. As the thirst slowly filtered in, the performances began. The attendants became drunker, the sets became wilder, and the turn manifested itself up in Atlantan glory. The show in its entirety can be decomposed into three parts: 1. not Atlanta, 2. young Atlanta, and 3. younger Atlanta. Let's walk through them.
"Look At Wrist" sent the crowd into a hysteria from which it didn't quite recover until the end of the show. Father's glasses had to be found.
1. Not Atlanta: The show opened with Dreezy, who rapped as though her life depended on it, as is typical of Chicago artists. Her set certainly had the energy to fuck up the crowd, but aside from a few real ones, people didn't seem quite ready to wild out with her just yet. Such is the plight and often uncredited function of the opener though, to start a snowball of energy that rolls over into the next act. She was followed by California's Audio Push, one of the members of which had a jersey on that I believe read "BRO." Most people seemed to be getting their drinks or locating their friends.
2. Young Atlanta: Sonny Digital then came out to preside over his royal domain. He has so many hits under his belt that his set could have been all his productions for the entire night, and we still wouldn't have heard "Covered N Money." In Atlanta, producers are king. They rule over the rappers, and create a network of artists whom they choose to give a platform. Sonny's network includes Key! and iLOVEMAKONNEN, who, with Father, form the wrist triumvirate. Father performed a set of his songs, each of which pushed the limits of the venue's speakers. The place was finally turning up as it was meant to, and the stage was now populated with what appeared to be every rapper's friends and extended family. It would have been hard to tell who was actually rapping had you not been familiar. "Look at Wrist" sent the crowd into a hysteria from which it didn't quite recover until the end of the show. Father's glasses had to be found.
3. Younger Atlanta: Rae Sremmurd, the headliners, were handed the drunk, manic crowd on a silver platter. I recall an audience member adjacent to me asking "Who's that?" My friend replied, "Mike WiLL." Then after a pause, "He made it." When he brought Rae Sremmurd out, it looked like Take Your Kid to Work day. He did a call-and-response with the words "Sremm" and "Life" (which to the untrained ear may have sounded like "shrimp life") with the audience, then distributed Hennessy liberally between the two rappers. Most people at this point were probably wondering how long their set was going to be, or if they had more than the two monster songs "No Flex Zone" and "No Type." They led with neither.
What became evident immediately is that these kids have so much more in the chamber. Mike WiLL is clearly giving them gold bricks in the studio to rap over, and they're going to continue churning out accessible party anthems. Everyone will know the words to the new songs they played as soon as they drop. In spite of the cumbersome name, Rae Sremmurd won't leave people's vocabulary anytime soon.
Makonnen and company continued the song from where it left off with a staunch contempt for the hater, wherever he had gone.
The duo (I'm still experiencing dyslexic symptoms attempting to remember which one is Swae Lee and which one is Slim Jimmy. I keep thinking their names are each other's mirror like Kris Kross.) then brought out their special guest, iLOVEMAKONNEN, which wasn't much of a surprise since he had been on stage for hours already. Naturally, they had him do "Tuesday," which by now he must be more tired of than we all are of hearing remixes to it. Halfway through the track, someone apparently tried to get on stage to attack him. Within seconds, the crowd had burst open at the front to form a circle. I was still recovering from the champagne that had somehow gotten in my eye (I knew it was champagne because I also tasted it) at that moment. When I looked up, one of the Lucid twins was standing in front of the empty circle and the assailant was nowhere to be found. At any rate, Mike WiLL looked ready to have this dude executed but instead made the show go on. iLOVEMAKONNEN and company continued the song from where it left off in staunch contempt for the hater, wherever he had gone.
Finally, the Sremmurd boys closed with their colossuses, starting with "No Type" and following with "No Flex Zone." I asked myself if iLOVEMAKONNEN's unnamed hater knew that he was entering a sanctioned no flex zone. Perhaps had they played it earlier in the set, he would have been aware and the problem would have thus dissolved. I asked myself whether the names of all of their forthcoming hits would also begin with the word "no" or not. I asked myself if they were contradicting themselves by claiming to have no type, then saying that bad bitches were the only thing that they like. I asked myself if bad bitches were not, indeed, a type. With these fundamental questions of great philosophical significance in my mind, I went home.
Alex Russell does have a type. He's on Twitter @alexrussellglo.
