I went to Cash Cobain's Slizzyfest and all I got was that classic New York vibe

Cash Cobain leads a procession of young New Yorkers down Irving Place to Union Square Park in Manhattan. It's a sea of ​​weed smoke and Hellstar hoods, a few hundred deep, marching like a parade. Cash, the 26-year-old music producer behind the increasingly inescapable hits “Fisherrr” and “Dunk Contest,” opens the scene calmly, even as New York City sirens blare and whale in the background. His hand reaches towards the sky as he streams the whole thing live on his Instagram. A beacon of return for the crowd that originally formed as a line outside Irving Plaza for Slizzyfest, a concert hosted by Cash Cobain in part to celebrate his birthday. Of course, the logistics of rap shows in New York are never straightforward, and those plans changed quickly. So we proceeded.

Dysfunctional rap shows are part of New York lore. Drake's debut in the city in 2010 shut down the entire harbor before it was eventually cancelled. But in a modern throwback to traditional tradition, Cash decided to march the crowd through Union Square for a few minutes of what amounted to Bluetooth Karaoke. He rapped along to fan favorites “Fisherrr,” “Wavy Lady,” “J Holiday” and “Dunk Contest,” before jetting off in a sprinter van for the show's afterparty. Somehow that alone was enough. The energy of the crowd was summoned at the same frequency, not bothered by the fact that the officially sanctioned show was closed, satisfied with the atmosphere in the park. It's hard to remember the last time an artist could invite this kind of worship to the city, and yet Cash still feels like an undeniably breakout star, even when he's linked to superstars like Drake.

Before the show finally closed, a woman handed out roses to people in line, and even with the presence of the NYPD, the atmosphere was buzzing with excitement and genuinely positive. A battle He made breaks out, but even that seemed isolated to a few people. All had come to see the city's liveliest crew up close, to join Cobain's Slizzy – perhaps a more sophisticated version of 'sleazy' – movement. I heard plenty of chatter early on, before the crowd had even reached its peak, questioning whether or not there would be a concert. When Cash arrived at the park, with the NYPD watching closely, everyone seemed to know exactly what to do. This would be a starter in town with Cash Cobain, but on a scale only possible for a few minutes. This became the tacit agreement between Cash and the crowd.

Earlier in the evening, the line for general admission had stretched around the block, and to the credit of Cash fans, everyone was mostly patient as they waited. something happen. By 8pm, when a few were scheduled to appear open, there was no traffic in line, and the mass of people just grew. It certainly didn't help that word of Drake's appearance quickly spread throughout the city, exacerbating the size of the crowd. However, no one seemed to have an explanation as to why hundreds of ticket holders couldn't even begin to enter the venue. At one point, a manager of one of the artists scheduled to perform found herself unable to enter soundcheck. As the hours passed, frustrations mounted and finally, near 9 p.m., a standoff broke out and a rush of people made for the doors hoping to take matters into their own hands. At one point, it became clear that the show would not go on and the crowd outside lingered for a few moments before Cash came on.

Heralded as the originator of the so-called “Sample Drill,” Cash is known for turning low-fidelity YouTube tracks by everyone from Whitney Houston to the Stone Temple Pilots into club hits laced with sly humor and panache . “And no, I ain't eating no pussy/I just came in here to look,” Vontee The Singer croons on the cash-producing single “For Us.” Sampling has always been at the core of hip-hop, and the charts have recently been littered with nostalgic hits — this week's number one song in the country, Metro Boomin and Future's “Like That,” relies heavily on the iconic opening riff of “Everlasting Bass” by Rodney O and Joe Cooley. Sexxy Red's latest earworm, “Get it Sexxy” flips a sample from Hurricane Chris' '09 hit “Halle Berry (She Fine).” But Cash's music always felt like it was in a universe of its own. Even when he samples Jai Paul, as on “Rump,” the reference is sublimated, consumed by the Slizzy aura, like bodies on a dimly lit dance floor.

Sampling may also explain how Cash's rise seems to be happening somewhat under the radar. His modest streaming numbers belie the wave of obscure underground hits and viral snippets he's delivered over the past few years. Cash's buzz has so far happened just outside the mainstream, and yet he's arguably responsible for the Jersey club sound that's taking over the pop charts. “I'm always trying to push my sound forward,” he said Rolling rock last year. “My sound is always changing. I've always been finding different sauces, trying to find different swag, trying to sound different than other types of shit.”

For all our modern angst about the supposed distortion of culture by algorithms, there has been a rise of artists subverting their allotted platforms and shaking things up in the process. Last night in Union Square, like Kai Cenat's takeover of the park last year (albeit without any of the physical damage), it felt like the next generation was starting to reshape the world around them.