Last night, long after the crowds had trickled out of American Airlines Center and the flying Ferraris were packed away, Drake got ready to give Dallas one last show.
The rapper’s been in town for the majority of the week for the Aubrey & The Three Migos tour, hanging out in the VIP section of The Bomb Factory on Tuesday, performing at AAC on Wednesday and Thursday. You can read Matt Goodman’s write-up on the Wednesday show here. This story, however, has very little to do with Drake as a musician.
This is a review of Drake’s appearance at Theory, the McKinney Avenue nightclub previously known as Avenu, previously previously known as Aura.
A friend and I arrived at the Uptown venue just around midnight, which we quickly realized was too early for the occasion. Luckily, a photo booth branded with the word “DRAKE” served as an effective way to kill time, and to declare to our internet friends our impending proximity to the superstar. We’re in the club on a Thursday, wearing crop tops, looking for Drake—might as well embrace our basicness.
The private tables lining the walls were filling up with Dallas Cowboys and SMU kids, but one large section was roped off and surrounded by security. Is this where Champagne Papi was destined to pop bottles? A security guard scolded me for brushing against the velvet perimeter, and my suspicion was confirmed.
By the time the rapper’s entourage started to roll in, I had become fully sardine’d in the crowd. The energy was high, though, and to answer the DJ’s question, we really were ready to see the man of the hour.
It was well after midnight when the DJ announced that Drizzy was in the building, and just before 1 a.m. when he actually showed up. He strolled through the back entrance, and close enough that I caught a good glimpse before he disappeared behind his posse in the booth. He was wearing a cream-colored sweatsuit and looking upset. His hair looked really good, though, even from afar.
He seemed unhappy to be there—or maybe just bored, which makes sense considering his life.
On the other side of Drake’s section, local up-and-comer Yella Beezy took a moment to bask in the spotlight. Wearing a Gucci t-shirt and diamond chains, Yella stood on the booth and joyfully rapped along with his song “That’s On Me,” to an adoring audience.
I never got a second look at Drake last night. It got more packed as last call drew near, and I could only tolerate so many minutes of accidentally touching strangers. I hope he cheered up, or at least got down. It must be hard partying from coast to coast with a strict “no new friends” policy.