One Thursday evening last month, the rapper Central Cee performed in New York City for the first time in his young and rapidly ascendant career. Central Cee-or Cench, as his fans affectionately call him-is British, and a Manhattan stage can sometimes feel like a proving ground for a newcomer. Instead, thanks to the familiarizing power of the Internet, the frenzied, sold-out show, which was at Irving Plaza, felt like a homecoming. Cench once rapped that he's "not performin' if I can't come with all of the guys," but in a gesture of confidence he began the show alone, backed only by an impassioned d.j., who queued up tracks behind his laptop, shouting lyrics into a microphone at key moments. This tactic, usually deployed to drum up excitement, was, by and large, unnecessary; the audience had come prepared to sing along to every word. "How many of you lot I have ever been to London before?" Cench asked the crowd, eliciting a wave of screams. "I'm all the way in New York," he said, and added, “I hope I can paint a picture for you to understand where I come from."
Onstage, Cench wore an oversized chain and a classic Yankees cap. The latter might have simply been a topical accessory, but it also brought to mind the shared DNA of contemporary New York rap and Cench's music. In the past three years, Cench has become one of the most prominent ambassadors of the U.K.'s thriving drill scene. Drill, originally inspired by a brutalist wave of hip-hop from Chicago, has become a dominant strain of British rap in the past decade. The signature drill sound-characterized by cold, off-kilter 808s and swaggering gruffness was eventually exported back to the States by way of Brooklyn rappers. Their sound has, in recent years, crept into the mainstream, adding a truly international chapter to the history of street rap. Across the pond, Cench is a home-town hero, but to a New York crowd he offered an intoxicating mix of the exotic and the familiar.
この記事は The New Yorker の March 20, 2023 版に掲載されています。
7 日間の Magzter GOLD 無料トライアルを開始して、何千もの厳選されたプレミアム ストーリー、9,000 以上の雑誌や新聞にアクセスしてください。
すでに購読者です ? サインイン
この記事は The New Yorker の March 20, 2023 版に掲載されています。
7 日間の Magzter GOLD 無料トライアルを開始して、何千もの厳選されたプレミアム ストーリー、9,000 以上の雑誌や新聞にアクセスしてください。
すでに購読者です? サインイン
YULE RULES
“Christmas Eve in Miller’s Point.”
COLLISION COURSE
In Devika Rege’ first novel, India enters a troubling new era.
NEW CHAPTER
Is the twentieth-century novel a genre unto itself?
STUCK ON YOU
Pain and pleasure at a tattoo convention.
HEAVY SNOW HAN KANG
Kyungha-ya. That was the entirety of Inseon’s message: my name.
REPRISE
Reckoning with Donald Trump's return to power.
WHAT'S YOUR PARENTING-FAILURE STYLE?
Whether you’re horrifying your teen with nauseating sex-ed analogies or watching TikToks while your toddler eats a bagel from the subway floor, face it: you’re flailing in the vast chasm of your child’s relentless needs.
COLOR INSTINCT
Jadé Fadojutimi, a British painter, sees the world through a prism.
THE FAMILY PLAN
The pro-life movement’ new playbook.
President for Sale - A survey of today's political ads.
On a mid-October Sunday not long ago sun high, wind cool-I was in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, for a book festival, and I took a stroll. There were few people on the streets-like the population of a lot of capital cities, Harrisburg's swells on weekdays with lawyers and lobbyists and legislative staffers, and dwindles on the weekends. But, on the façades of small businesses and in the doorways of private homes, I could see evidence of political activity. Across from the sparkling Susquehanna River, there was a row of Democratic lawn signs: Malcolm Kenyatta for auditor general, Bob Casey for U.S. Senate, and, most important, in white letters atop a periwinkle not unlike that of the sky, Kamala Harris for President.