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Maybe phones at concerts aren’t such a bad thing. The existential gripes from older generations about the sanctity of live show experiences seem to misunderstand the moment. For a generation whose existence is mostly, if not entirely, lived through devices, peering through the hypnotic glow of their phone screens at a picture-in-picture playback of the events unfolding in front of them is an extension, or even an evolution, of the experience. I’m in the audience at Fakemink’s tour stop in New York City, submerged in the crowd consisting mainly of young people in their teens and early twenties, with the occasional older adult — designers for the streetwear brand Supreme, the model Alex Cosani, underground-rap influencer Chris Heyn Jr., age 30, known as “unc” to his fans on TikTok — and everyone is looking at their phones. Not in the perjorative way we’ve heard so many artists complain about, but a new, euphoric kind of experience untethered from whatever rules we might’ve once ascribed to how fans should be engaging with music.
Besides, most of us were summoned there by our phones anyway. Fakemink, the 20-year-old British underground-rap sensation with fans including the likes of Frank Ocean and Timothée Chalamet, has quietly become a cult figure online thanks to his unvarnished Instagram Live sessions and penchant for vibrant, experiential songs that connect to even the most niche of internet subcultures. He made a name for himself by fusing the melodic sensibility of 2010s dance music with a subversively catchy flow that fits naturally in the U.K.’s fiercely experimental underground scene, as well as within the frenetic contours of TikTok’s For You Page. One of his more popular tracks, “Kill Everything,” from his 2023 debut mixtape, London Saviour, samples Imogen Heap’s “Headlock,” a nodding wink to the song’s resurgence on TikTok in the form of a jerk-inspired remix that went viral the same year.
Still, what is it that we’re capturing on our phones? Everyone at the sold-out concert was indeed dancing, generating wobbly, vertigo-inducing footage made more untenable by the show’s pulsating strobes. It’s more like a practice in cultural anthropology than social-media navel gazing. Fakemink has managed to revive the in-the-know sensibility of underground movements from a bygone era. His fans even have slang for newcomers (“newgen”), signaling a hierarchy that prioritizes ground-level support over viral trend hopping. So, documenting one of his first shows in New York feels less about bragging to your friends online, or even generating a watchable clip, and more about capturing history. His Etna Vera Vela Tour began at the All Stars Boxing Gym in Maida Vale, in North West London (where Mr. Chalamet was in attendance), part of Fakemink’s commitment to “unconventional” venues on this tour, a nod to independent underground functions.
Even so, Fakemink is undoubtedly viral. His stop in New York City was at the more conventional Bowery Ballroom, and arrived just days after he was co-signed (twice) by Frank Ocean — the perennially enigmatic singer posted pictures of Fakemink to his Instagram Story — and only a few months after Drake brought him out to perform his mega-viral hit “LV Sandals” at Wireless Festival in London. During his set in New York, there was a sense something significant was in the air. He emerged onstage flanked by tall white pillars encircling a round, red dot of a rug, like a monk preparing a spiritual ceremony. To borrow the slang of the bran-rotted, he was auramaxxing. A catchall term for radiating a compelling in-person vibe, it translates a real-world experience onto something legible online. The internet’s main language of text, images, and video clips can have aura in the sense that they can conjure a sensation in an instant. You simply know it when you see it. At the show, Mink’s signature staggering drums blasted nearly into oblivion, making for something like a danceable earthquake. Meanwhile, Fakemink himself might’ve uttered only a dozen or so words into the mic, instead allowing the crowd — versed in literally every song — to take the reins.
Born Vincenzo Camille in the town of Essex, just outside of London, Fakemink began making music at the age of 10, and started rapping and releasing music around 2019 under the name 9090gate. After dropping a song called “Mink,” he decided to add the word “Fake” as a prefix and start releasing under his now infamous moniker. The name is an exploration of contrasts between “luxury and dirty,” as he explained to the blog No Bells last fall. “The mink is the luxury part; the fake is the dirty.”He first gained notoriety for the track “Music and Me” which, like most of his output, is self-produced
Alongside a coterie of U.K. underground acts, including EsDeeKid and GhostInnaFurCoat, Fakemink has introduced a distinct sound to the already buzzing U.K. scene, which stands in refreshing contrast to its American counterpart, still consumed by the morass of post-Carti rage rap. He’s so far collaborated with acts like Ecco2k and Xaviersobased, themselves vanguards of the underground-rap scene. It is, ironically, what has made Fakemink’s transition into the mainstream seem so effortless. Every marquee moment he’s had this year has carried his uncompromising individuality. When he appeared on Plaqueboymax’s U.K. stream in the spring, he arrived impromptu, like a party crasher, on camera for all of three minutes before being rushed away to bring on the day’s scheduled guest. It was like seeing your favorite underground act infiltrate the mainstream corridors of MTV, if only briefly. Like a Gen Z version of OddFuture’s TV debuton Late Night With Jimmy Fallon.
The same goes for his performance of “LV Sandals” at Wireless, which likely surprised concertgoers who the night before watched Drake deliver a pristinely performed set of hits. Mink’s onstage presence is best described as aura-driven, meaning he’s less concerned with rapping or singing his vocals, instead leading his backing track like an orchestral maestro, hyping the crowd with his very presence. This brings it back to the phones, the vessels with which the current generation has learned to capture aura. It’s nearly impossible to explain without actually being there, except through some alchemy; you can feel it through the phone. Like when Fakemink brings “Easter Pink” into “LV Sandals” towards the end of the show. He’s onstage, gesticulating along to the music as the beats transition into one another, perfectly in sync, completing a full sensory overload of sounds summoned with a hint of off-kilter chaos. He could’ve been standing completely still, and you’d have still gotten the chills.
