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Phill Roche, then a DePaul senior finishing his degree in marketing and business management, was sitting in class May 1, when he got a call from an unfamiliar number. Working as a press representative for rising Chicago rapper King Louie and affiliated video producer Duan Gaines, Roche had been trying for months to get major publications interested in his clients to no avail.
Upon calling the number back, he discovered it was MTV, suddenly curious about Louie after hearing him name-dropped by Kanye West on his latest star-studded remix. Chief Keef’s “I Don’t Like,” had been something of a local sensation since March, racking up views on YouTube thanks to a video shot and produced by Gaines. The 16-year-old Keef, whose sound is a more abrasive example of the burgeoning drill scene that Louie also represents, became heavily hyped by the music press at large, despite having been familiar to Chicago-focused hip-hop blogs for some time.
“The media missed them,” said Roche, when contacted by phone. “And the record companies played catch up.”
Thanks to West’s remix, singsong hooks and heavy social media presence, Chief Keef and associated Glory Boyz Entertainment (GBE) artists went from minor celebrities in their South Side neighborhoods to the next big thing in the eyes of recording industry executives. Keef now boasts a respectable six-figure record deal courtesy of Interscope, while GBE affiliates Lil’ Reese and Lil’ Durk have since been picked up by Def Jam, and King Louie by Sony/Epic.
The major labels’ delayed interest in these teenage stars, combined with their meteoric rise to fame based solely on YouTube videos, and lyrics riddled with references to drug use and gang violence, effectively captures the zeitgeist of the hip-hop recording industry today. But in an age when one’s “15 minutes of fame” is often more like 15 seconds, others see drill as a flash in the pan.