There are certain artists you love online but quietly assume you will never see in real life.
CupcakKe was one of those artists.
So when the Chicago rapper appeared on the lineup for the Noise Pop Festival in San Francisco this year, playing the relatively intimate club Public Works, it felt a little like spotting a unicorn ordering a vodka soda. Technically possible. Just not something you expect to witness with your own two eyes.
By the time I arrived, the show was already beyond sold out. The line snaked around the block and spilled into nearby bars where fans were killing time before squeezing themselves into the venue. Inside Public Works, every square inch of the double-decker club was packed shoulder to shoulder. The balcony railings were lined with bodies leaning forward like spectators at a boxing match. On the floor below, people craned their necks and stood on tiptoe just to glimpse the stage.
For a small club show, the energy felt closer to a music festival. Which, technically, it was. The annual Noise Pop Festival has spent more than three decades turning San Francisco into a roaming celebration of independent music, with hundreds of artists playing venues across the city.
Still, this crowd felt different.
Because CupcakKe is the kind of artist people never quite believe will actually show up.
The Legend of CupcakKe
Trying to explain CupcakKe to someone unfamiliar with her career is a bit like explaining drag brunch to your straight coworker. You can try, but you will never quite capture the chaos.
Born Elizabeth Harris on Chicago’s South Side, CupcakKe first exploded online in 2015 with songs like “Vagina” and “Deepthroat,” gleefully explicit rap tracks that spread across YouTube and social media like wildfire. Her music is famously graphic. Body parts are named with surgical precision. Euphemisms are politely shown the door.
And yet reducing her to shock value misses the point.
CupcakKe’s lyrics are outrageous, yes, but they are also deeply self aware, often hilarious, and occasionally disarmingly vulnerable. Over the past decade she has rapped about abuse, homelessness, sexuality, and survival with the same fearless voice she uses to describe bedroom acrobatics.
That mix of humor, honesty, and unfiltered confidence has made her a cult hero online and a beloved figure within queer fan circles.
But the thing about cult heroes is that they can be unpredictable.
CupcakKe’s career has included viral success, social media blowups, sudden retirements, returns from retirement, mental health scares, and a widely publicized gambling addiction that reportedly cost her hundreds of thousands of dollars.
A decade into her career, CupcakKe has built a reputation for explosive breakthroughs followed by equally dramatic detours.
And yet the response to those detours has often been different than what other artists experience.
Take Chappell Roan for example. On the one hand, some of the criticism aimed at Roan in recent months has been tied to mental health struggles and the pressure that comes with suddenly being placed under an intense pop culture microscope. In theory, a community that prides itself on supporting mental health would extend a certain amount of grace.
But Roan has also projected a kind of indifference toward larger global issues where her platform could carry real weight. And that difference matters.
CupcakKe, by contrast, has always leaned toward radical honesty. She has raised money for causes like Palestine, spoken openly about addiction and depression, and never tried to sand down the rough edges of her public persona. Whether it was deleting her entire YouTube catalog after early viral success, announcing she was quitting music only to return weeks later, or admitting she lost nearly $700,000 to a gambling addiction, her story has unfolded almost entirely in public view.
Which is why seeing her walk onto that stage in San Francisco felt strangely triumphant.
The moment she appeared, the room detonated.
If you have never experienced a crowd that knows every word to a CupcakKe song, imagine karaoke night hosted by several hundred extremely enthusiastic gay men. Phones shot into the air instantly. People leaned over the balcony railings while the floor below bounced with bodies packed shoulder to shoulder.
After a brief intro tape, CupcakKe jumped into “Ballerina Coupe,” quickly followed by “UFO,” and the crowd locked in almost immediately. The bass rattled through the room while fans shouted the lyrics back at her before the first verse had even finished.
From there the set moved quickly through the chaotic catalog that built her internet reputation. “Squidward Nose” landed early and the entire crowd screamed the hook in unison. “Sloppy Joe” followed, turning the room into a bouncing, sweaty mess of bodies shouting along.
The show tipped fully into party territory during “Spider-Man Dick,” when CupcakKe invited fans onstage to twerk alongside her. The moment repeated during “CPR,” which sent the room into another frenzy as volunteers danced while the audience roared its approval.
The loudest reaction of the night arrived when the opening beat of “Deepthroat” hit the speakers. Hundreds of voices screamed the lyrics in perfect synchronization, loud enough to nearly drown out the track itself.
Later in the set she briefly performed “Vagina” a cappella, teasing the crowd with a quick snippet before sliding into other favorites like “Fist Me” and “Alcoholic.”
At several points CupcakKe paused to laugh with fans near the front rows, clearly enjoying the chaos unfolding around her.
Midway through the set the crowd lost their minds again during “Duck Duck Goose,” especially when more fans joined her onstage to dance. And just when it seemed like the night might be winding down, CupcakKe doubled back into “Deepthroat” again by fan request, proving she understood exactly what the audience had come to hear.
By the time the final song arrived, the entire room had transformed into a dance floor.
She closed the night with “Sloppy Joe,” and “Grilling Niggas,” sending the packed crowd into one last explosion of cheers as the lights finally began to come up. People were sweaty, hoarse, and grinning, the kind of exhausted happiness that only comes from screaming every lyric with a few hundred strangers.
Standing there in the middle of that overheated club, one thing felt obvious. For all the chaos that has followed CupcakKe through the past decade, the loyalty in that room had never wavered. Fans showed up, screamed every word, climbed onstage, and treated the entire night like the celebration they had been waiting years to see.
And judging by the way the crowd devoured every second of it, they would do it all again tomorrow if she asked.
Featured image pic: Michael Chan
