A Very Cash Cobain Thanksgiving
On the scene as the sexy drill ambassador visited his Bronx elementary school to give some winter coats away.
This story first ran in Hell Gate, a worker-owned, subscriber-funded news outlet about New York City. As a fellow cooperative publication, we are excited to share this story about Cash Cobain’s coat giveaway in the Bronx, which we thought our readers would be interested in reading, too. Hell Gate is a great read even if you don't live in the city—check them out and consider subscribing if you love their work like we do!
If you don’t know about sexy drill, or sample drill, or any of the names given to the reigning style pioneered by Bronx producer, rapper, and singer Cash Cobain, listen to “All I Wanna Hear” from this year’s Play Cash Cobain for a crash course. There’s a nostalgic sample (in this case, Elephant Man’s “Pon De River”), and a brash rattle of kick drums, and then, before you know it: “That pussy the best, it ain’t even fair.” That’s Cash Cobain. On Tuesday, he was at his old elementary school, giving out coats.
Slizzy Summer having well and truly ended, it was a chilly, rainy day outside PS 146 in the Bronx, and the schoolyard was empty. But you could hear the kids thundering around inside the school’s auditorium. A smattering of media had gathered in a repurposed classroom where Play Cash Cobain was being played (just the instrumentals, of course, no words), with a Box O’ Joe on offer, and a whiteboard with “Professional Development” curriculum stowed to the side. (The kids I saw seemed a little young to be thinking about that, I thought.)
You could hear the sounds of the pep rally (Tommy Richman, “Kehlani”) echoing, as we waited—six minutes, then 30 minutes, then 10 minutes, then 10 more minutes—for Cash. By we, I mean myself, the one reporter who was there to witness him give a pep talk to his alma mater, plus representatives in red shirts from the I Will Graduate Youth Development Program nonprofit, who seem to have set the whole school visit and coat giveaway up (they had interviewed Cash before but “last time the kids were trampling him”), and two people in their early 20s here from a brand agency. There was also Will from the management team, and a guy in a black blazer with tattoos who was so businesslike I was sure he was a music industry guy, but he actually worked for the school. Eventually, I lost track of who everyone was, as the small crowd grew to include some young people who work for someone named “Daniel,” a kid and her dad in matching Pelle Pelle jackets, and someone wearing Tabis whose arrival I knew meant we were close to starting. The school’s principal walked in and, making a similar assessment, announced that he didn’t know who most of the people in the room were, but he thanked us, and Cash, for “making our school look big for one day.”
Then, finally: “Oh, there he is.” The man himself had arrived in the school hallway, entourage in tow, more Pelle Pelle jackets and smiles all around. Cash, a husky 26-year-old in a gray T-shirt that said “Pookie,” didn’t have to do or say much to command everyone’s attention, and his mom Priscilla, his constant companion, gave light directions to everyone, including caterers who arranged some cooked food and varieties of Entenmann’s pound cake. Cash, in previous interviews, has credited the music Priscilla plays in her house as often being the source of his samples. Wearing a green Moncler cape, I heard her tell school staff that she doesn’t listen to his music (it’s pretty explicit), but she can’t help but hear it everywhere (when I leave, there’s literally a car playing “Problem,” the album’s lead single, from its speakers) and she’ll always be a part of his team.
By the time his manager gave me a few moments to talk to Cash, he seemed tired, if friendly enough. He mumbled a few replies. What does his upcoming down time look like? “Food,” he replied, and spending time with family. What’s Thanksgiving like in your household? “It’s Thanksgiving! Soul food, if you want to call it that, but really Thanksgiving is its own genre of food.” They’re doing Thanksgiving at his house, for the first time—a new house in Queens he bought with the spoils of his sexy drill empire. Drill has really matured as a genre now, where do you see it going next? “There’s more stuff to do, there’s new stuff. The sauce never stopped. I came up with it, and I can come up with new stuff. There’s more to come, I’m gonna show y’all.” He shouted out artists on his label Slizzy Entertainment, and said he thinks sexy drill still has the potential to go global, to go everywhere.
An array of handlers from the various “teams” (agency, management, nonprofit, school, NYPD, that guy Daniel) led Cash down a cinematic walk through his old school hallway to the auditorium. Along the way, he had to stop to take pictures with everyone, and I mean everyone. Quite a few were with his favorite teacher, Miss Arroyo, from when he was a student at 146, who still teaches there (“He was always very musical”). He shook hands with superintendent Jennifer Joynt (the “big boss,” the principal called her), the lunch ladies (he doubled back to get pictures at their command, but he wasn’t a big fan of the school lunch when he was a student, he told the kids), and even the school safety officers. Eventually, he found his way back to his mom, and they interlocked fingers for a second. Then, onward.
I eventually learned that Daniel is from Daniel’s Leather boutique on the Lower East Side (“You haven’t heard of it?” one of Daniel’s employees tsked, but he hadn’t heard of Hell Gate either), which has worked with celebrities like Cardi B on their Pelle Pelle jackets, a signature of ’90s New York style that is one hundred percent back, and other luxurious mogul hip-hop era coats. Daniel’s was providing winter coats, ones with pink and blue faux-fur trimming, that Cash was giving away to the kids (if they came to school on Wednesday).
Finally, Cash made it to the auditorium, and the I Will Graduate rep announced that the students should “give it up for Cash Cobain!” The kids’ screams were deafening, and they rushed down to the stage.
“I don’t want anyone to get hurt, though,” the principal warned. “I want everyone to bring it down a notch.”
Once the dust had settled, kids were raising their hands to tell Cash what they wanted to be when they grew up—fashion designer, police officer, artist. “Follow your dreams,” Cash told them, “but listen to your teachers, listen to your parents.”
“And stay in school.”
