The internet is a funny place. Forget the political promotion of diversity in the real world setting, if mankind becomes culturally homogeneous, I can’t help but imagine that YouTube, Instagram, and Twitter would be collectively responsible for the majority of that transition. Ten years ago, there wouldn’t be as much of a basis for that thought. But let’s travel back ten years anyway, into a bizarre little corner of YouTube that I believe opened up the realm of UK drill music that has captivated listeners from various walks of life and served as the face of British urban youth gang culture in recent years.
Road rap – as it is most commonly called – was the British answer to American gangsta rap. I suppose grime music was more relevant on a cultural level, but people in the streets – those living lives in deprived and dangerous neighborhoods – still turned to American gangsta rap in order to find something to appropriately relate to their situation. Now, from the American perspective, UK gangsta rap in any capacity makes no sense. Many Americans seem to think that their nation has a monopoly on First World poverty and minority ghettos. Despite how wrong that belief is, American rap fans still seem to have a difficult time getting accustomed to the British accent. Long story short, road rap is just sonically and conceptually confusing for most Yanks.
In 2007, London rapper Giggs released a track called “Talkin’ da Hardest.” Is it the earliest example of road rap? Not quite. But it is the quintessential road rap anthem. The lyrics are gritty – discussing violence and drugs – yet the flow is calm and collected. Observing the music video, one would see a large group of men, pointing and swaying with the song alongside Giggs in an attempt to look intimidating for the duration of its runtime. If this looks familiar, that’s because it borrows heavily from the swagger of US gangsta rap from that era. East Coast gangsta rap pioneers (think 50 Cent and The Diplomats) and early Atlanta-area trap rappers (guys like T.I. or Young Jeezy) seemed to have a huge influence on the entire road rap scene. The styles of dress, the flows in the raps, and the instrumentals being used were unmistakably American. Big names in road rap would definitely be Giggs, Krept & Konan, and Blade Brown, but some of the biggest hits were from lesser known artists. A quick YouTube search of related keywords would reveal hood video after hood video, as seemingly every estate in the London area has at least one rap video of significance dating back to the 2000s or early 2010s. The influence of American street gang culture can be seen in many of these videos, as a number of gangs began to identify themselves as big-name American gangs. Groups of young men calling themselves the Bloods or the Crips were not uncommon throughout the road rap era. The video below should exemplify exactly what I’m talking about.
If the hoods of the UK appear to have been easily influenced and in search of an identity during the days of road rap, that’s because they were. Unlike the typical inner-city American ghetto, where a large cluster of people exist across a well-defined area, the UK has its population of urban poor dispersed throughout various areas of the city in question. Usually, these people live in what are known as “council estates,” akin to the American public housing project. Council estates tend to be placed among areas of varying income levels, sometimes in quite posh neighborhoods. Furthermore, there has been no one group that has encapsulated urban council estate culture. Sure, the street slang tends to lean Jamaican in London, but no two estates have the same cultural composition. White British, Black British, Jamaicans, Somalians, Nigerians, Ghanaians, Pakistanis, Bengalis – the list goes on. Although racism has undeniably existed, most prejudices in the UK are rooted in class above all else. People of poverty, no matter their background, tend to be the ones being ostracized within British society. Seeing as how urban poverty across the pond comprises a multitude of cultures, it would be hard for any one counter-cultural movement to seep into every UK hood as hip-hop did in the US starting with African-Americans and Hispanics. What happened instead was a slow cultural appropriation. Some people in council estates related more to American rap music than they could to the British hip-hop or grime scenes. And word of mouth through the internet is what would enable droves of impressionable Brits to adopt this culture and spread it among themselves.
Drill music (the term drill being Chicago slang meaning an action taking place, typically a violent one) had been bubbling in the gang-infested cauldron of Chicago’s south side, catching the eyes of outsiders in 2011 and hitting the mainstream in 2012. Chief Keef and his affiliates are responsible for opening up that door, but there have been countless artists to emerge from the scene ever since. Maybe it was the Kanye West cosign that truly propelled Chief Keef and the drill scene into the stratosphere, but there were many aspects of drill that captivated outsiders. Chicago was a city not typically known for having a well-established hip-hop scene, and hearing the voices and catchy slang of the Windy City for the first time (words such as opps, thots, goofy, and fufu are now commonplace informal language for even the most uptight suburban youth) became especially interesting. Around this time, Chicago was consistently relevant in the media due to the extreme levels of gun violence that still affect the city today. Drill music provided insight into the lives of those that were at the frontlines of the battlefield. Minimalist lyrics centered on threats of death and gun violence and nihilistic, ready-to-die attitudes over menacing trap-influenced instrumentals (Young Chop and DJ Kenn pioneered the sound) were what drill was all about. The artists themselves were quite brazen, brandishing guns and drugs in music videos that basically served as death threats to rival gang members. And fans ate it up. It became interesting for some people – often fans completely outside of the Chicago criminal underworld – to follow the dramatic events that the lives of drill artists often came into contact with. This person dissed this gang. This person allegedly killed this person. This person might be locked away for years. One can’t help but think that this was the hip-hop equivalent of professional wrestling, except the people involved were not fabricating the events in question to keep people watching; those were the lives they lived. Rather than being storytellers or commentators like other rap artists, drill artists were hood reporters, being overtly straightforward in their music.
As an American, I’m not sure of the precise time that drill music became the sound of choice for young gang members in the UK. I can guess that it was somewhere around the time of 2013. Many British hood videos from around that time period feature local artists having a go at the American drill instrumentals that were hot at that moment. Observing the state of the scene today, I guess it caught on. The track that I believe had the most impact came in 2014 – LD’s “Live Corn.”
Using Chicago artist L’A Capone’s instrumental for “Separate Myself,” “Live Corn” is an aggressive, hard-hitting UK drill anthem. LD speaks on gang beef and violence using London slang and a flow that melds seamlessly with the rolling horn of the instrumental. This perfection of the UK drill style is more than likely what influenced others to follow suit and further develop the scene. Drill music makes a lot of sense in the London gang landscape. With council estates being scattered across the city, the attitudes of those within their gang culture tend to be highly localized. It’s not quite the block by block warzone that certain areas of Chicago might be classified as, but there is a great pride that comes with being from a certain area in London. While American gangs might recruit members regardless of where they call home, London crews seem to be homogeneous in terms of geographic origin. The block you are from defines who you are within gang culture across north, south, east, and west London. Beef often comes based on the postcode that you claim.
As time has passed, the UK drill scene has evolved its sound tremendously. The instrumentals are recognizable as drill, but there is a gritty flare that makes them immediately distinguishable. The ominous bells and strings, punching basslines, faint choir vocals and a variety of other minor touches makes UK drill instrumentals significantly more menacing than their American counterparts. The true mastermind of this style of production is Carns Hill, who has provided his instrumentals to some of the bigger names in the drill movement. Also, the tempo and flow of the drill rappers have been slightly sped up during the subgenre’s transit across the Atlantic, providing an acrimonious touch that was previously absent. What does remain is the subject matter.
The music videos of UK drill artists have shown that although the people involved might have put their own spin on an American creation, they are being more true to who they in relation to the road rappers before them. If the road rap era was highlighted by cultural appropriation, then the drill music movement is more of a cultural transfusion. There are no more Blood and Crip colors being flown or American-sounding vocal adjustments; the artists are being themselves. Everything feels highly secretive and nocturnal. Faces are concealed with bandannas, hoodies, and balaclavas, people don messenger bags, gloves, and large coats, and videos are typically shot in grimy-looking back-blocks during the later hours of the day. In a country under heavy CCTV surveillance where the average citizen is not allowed to possess any sort of deadly weapon unless they crave some serious jail time, UK drill artists are not as erratically flagrant as the ones in the States. It’s not that there aren’t dangerous weapons or illegal happenings taking place in the UK’s socioeconomically deprived areas, it’s that the gang members simply realize that they have to be intelligent about the manner in which they conduct illicit activities.
For an American listener, the slang of UK drill might be a bit confusing. So I’m going to try my best to highlight a few words worthy of note that would allow listeners outside of the UK to grasp what is being discussed a bit better. Here’s what I’ve gathered based on my time spent listening to the music:
- Skeng – firearm; occasionally used to describe a knife
- Dotty, brukback – shotgun
- Corn – ammunition
- Rambo, dip-dip – knife (there are countless other words for this)
- Ching, poke, dip, chef, splash – to stab
- Fry, blow smoke, crash – to shoot
- Food – drugs
- Am – marijuana
- Bare – adjective used to describe a large quantity of something, similar to the words mad or hella in American slang
There are plenty of others worthy of note, but these are some of the most commonly used words in the UK drill lexicon. I also didn’t include words that originated from Chicago drill slang, so if you’re unfamiliar with any of that I would start with Chicago drill music before delving into the UK version.
The closeness and emphasis on local pride of gang members in the UK is represented through the manner in which drill rappers present themselves. They identify more as collectives than individuals. Sure, every crew has an artist that is more notable than the rest and all of the names are recognizable in some of the more popular groups. But the name of the collective, gang, group, block, or whatever they wish to call it is what comes first.
67 is a crew hailing from Brixton in south London, more specifically from the area of Brixton Hill. They are undeniably the most influential collective in UK drill music by far. Above is arguably their most popular track, “Let’s Lurk,” off of the project with the same name. The song features hard-hitting flows, an intimidating instrumental reminiscent of a war march, and a verse from road rap legend Giggs.
410 is another Brixton-based collective. However, the shining stars of the group are undoubtedly BT and Rendo. The chemistry between the two and their rapid-fire flows are reminiscent of the earlier tracks of G Herbo and Lil Bibby of Chicago drill fame. Above is a particularly hard-hitting 410 track called “Who’s in the Car.”
Harlem Spartans are a group hailing from Kennington in south London. TG Millian, MizOrMac, and Loski seem to be the fan favorites. Above is a solo track by Loski, filled with violent braggadocio, disrespect of rival gangs, and a seemingly nonstop flow over a frantic piano loop instrumental.
The aforementioned groups are arguably the most popular in the British drill scene, but there are plenty of names that have more of a local buzz. And just like the Chicago scene, one can watch the rivalries unfold. There are plenty of gang beefs and complicated politics that simultaneously plague and drive the UK drill scene. One of the more recent feuds that has become visible in the drill scene is between two west London groups – 12 from Shepherd’s Bush and 1011 from Ladbroke Grove.
Both of the above tracks are extremely menacing, laden with threats and disses that the two groups have for one another. If you take the time to find the news articles of violent crimes and social media disputes that are representative of the relationship between 12 and 1011, you would understand that the people involved are not kidding. They are probably exaggerating a bit, but a large part of drill music beefs seem to be the mind games; you don’t want to look scared. This is far from the only beef worthy of note (the drill music beef tracks created by Edmonton’s DA gang and Albany Park’s GMG gang have been featured in British news, as they were pointed to as what was perpetuating the tit-for-tat violence between the two groups), and after clicking around on YouTube a bit it would not take very long to discover another. And, just like it has happened in Chicago, lives of promising artists have been lost. The somber story of Showkey and MDot – two artists from the same London neighborhood that were murdered just months apart – has been highlighted all over the place when discussing the issue of youth gang violence in the UK.
Beyond London, drill music has spread to other British cities, most notably Liverpool, Manchester, Birmingham, and Nottingham. The scenes are thriving, but they do highlight the issue of youth gang violence. In the chicken-or-the-egg style argument that hinders drill music, I would argue that the violence and disputes would occur without all of the diss tracks. Gangs, gang violence, and the socioeconomic scenarios that feed those things predate drill music by a long shot. The music makes for an intensely satisfying listen and is undeniably interesting, especially as an American; it is fascinating to gain insight of a world that most people in my neck of the woods are entirely unfamiliar with the existence of. But it’s also saddening; how does the violence stop? Drill music certainly does not provide any answers or seek to solve the issues, it’s merely a reporting of those issues to whoever cares to listen. Does the world outside of drill music care enough to get to the root of those issues? I don’t know. But UK drill music has provided listeners with an ominously energetic portrayal of the dangerous elements that pervade the gang member lifestyle. Good things can arise from bad things, and that probably explains why UK drill is one of the most popular forms of hip-hop music in the UK at this moment in time.
nesdiscusses 