A Dizzy Record of Newfound Fame

In 2021, Russ Millions and Tion Wayne’s swarming lad anthem, “Body,” became one of the biggest singles in England. It was the first song of its kind to top the singles chart, and its posse-cut remix brought together the artists at the forefront of a burgeoning rap subgenre called U.K. drill. Among them was a little-known nineteen-year-old Brighton rapper named Riley Davies—better known as ArrDee—who rapped as confidently as the more established artists flanking him. The song achieved instant virality, propelled, in large part, by ArrDee’s pithy, quotable verse, which starts with the undeniably British exclamation: “Have you seen the state of her body? Mad!” The rapper’s charms were infectious: a giddy, boyish energy streaked through his sidewinding rhymes, and his accented impishness made the spot perfectly meme-able. On a track with eight other performers, it was ArrDee’s blustery, waggish verse that stole the Internet’s heart.

In the bustling “Body” music video, ArrDee stands as the sole white face in a crowd of Black rappers and their associates. Many white rappers have presented themselves as fish out of water in hip-hop, and endeared themselves by performing reverence for the culture. But, like the smooth-talking Kentucky playboy Jack Harlow, ArrDee has made himself right at home, swaggering with the bunch as a mischievous and eager compatriot. Since his breakout moment, ArrDee has become a success in his own right, releasing three U.K. Top Ten singles in under a year and establishing himself as a playful practitioner of U.K. drill’s distinctive sound.

U.K. drill—characterized by slinking 808 bass, rippling hi-hats, and a certain belligerent energy—is an offshoot of the trap-inflected street music of Chicago, and also bears a strong resemblance to Brooklyn drill, which was defined by artists such as Bobby Shmurda and Pop Smoke. The evolution of the British subgenre can be traced through the work of one of ArrDee’s producers, the Watford beat-maker Hargo, who produced “Splash & Cash,” by U.K. drill pioneers 67 and Harlem Spartans, which is heavily indebted to Chicago drill, and Poundz’s “SkengBop” and “Opp Thot,” which became the baseline for U.K. drill’s own tremoring sound. Hargo’s work with ArrDee honors the pugnacious bravado at the core of drill music, while pushing toward a more pop-friendly style.

ArrDee hasn’t been famous for long, but he has been quick to adopt the confidence and paranoia of celebrity. “Adeola wanna roll with a geezer,” he rapped memorably on “Body,” his syllables lilting with lumbering vowels. “Is it me or the life style, sweetheart?” He decides not to question her interest: “Actually, I don’t give a shit / I’m a rapper now, might as well live in it.” ArrDee’s début record, “Pier Pressure,” is filled with much of the same cheeky merrymaking and joyriding. But the project also has its moments of clarity, as the rapper reflects on the rush of his newfound fame, and the perceived divide between “me” and “the life style.” “I’ve been gettin’ bigger, and so has the love, but it don’t seem real,” he raps on “Late Night Driving,” a mild track about mounting loneliness on the way to the top. The longer ArrDee’s party goes, the harder it becomes to see who is really celebrating with him.

For all his professed solitude, ArrDee raps with an intensity that makes drunken skirt chasing sound like an Olympic event. In most songs, he is a swaggering raver, steady enough to talk shit and loose enough to not care about the consequences. “Biggz just told me he’s worrying ’bout my health / ’Cause I’ve had four pints / And three shots of rum /And it’s half past twelve / In the afternoon, not the morning / Told him it’s evening time somewhere else,” he raps on “Oliver Twist,” before pointing to his boozing as the source of his superpowers. The rhymes themselves take on a staggering quality, and the rapper moves through the verses as if about to totter over at any second. Somehow he always lands on his feet.

A few tracks, including “War”—a collaboration with the Manchester rapper and fellow white boy Aitch—elevate ArrDee from mere rabble-rouser to embattled scrapper. It is in this mode that ArrDee maximizes the strident sounds of U.K. drill, with punchier, more aggressive lyrics. But even his soberest verses maintain a dizzying sense of wonder. Throughout the coiling string and guitar samples on such songs as “Early Hours” and “Fruitella,” he can’t help but cut up and banter. “I’m hardly a husband, the hardest in the party / See me with my chargie / Fillin’ up my glassy / Glancing at shawty, I heard her say, ‘That’s ArrDee!’ ” he raps on the latter. In that moment, the glee of being recognized seems to make the other hassles worth it.