LOS ANGELES, CA- On October 5th, the Intuit Dome became a house of believers. Russ, the fiercely independent rapper, producer, and now actor, headlined a sold-out show that underscored just how far he’s come since his SoundCloud beginnings. What could have easily felt like another tour stop turned into something bigger. It felt like a celebration of artistry on your own terms, proof that building brick by brick can still fill arenas in an era of instant virality.
The night moved in layers. Sabrina Claudio opened with her smoky brand of R&B, bringing an intimacy that set the stage for something larger. Her new project, Fall in Love with Her, marked not just her musical progression but her resilience, reminding the audience that redemption in the public eye is possible if you have the artistry to back it up. Big Sean followed with a confident, hit-laden performance that leaned into his decade-plus career, culminating in the timeless crowd-pleaser “I Don’t F*** With You.” It was a smart lead-in, a bridge between generations of hip-hop that warmed the crowd for what was to come.
And then there was Russ.
What unfolded at Intuit Dome wasn’t just a concert. It was a statement, a blueprint, and for many in the room, a moment of validation that betting on yourself can still be the loudest sound in music.
Sabrina Claudio opened the evening with her trademark elegance, a sound equal parts intimate and cinematic. Her voice, hushed yet commanding, wrapped the audience in the kind of softness that makes her music feel almost secretive, like you’ve stumbled into something you’re not supposed to hear but can’t stop listening to.
Her career hasn’t been without turbulence. When she was “cancelled” years back over old social media posts, many questioned…myself included… whether she’d ever find her footing again. Watching her now, in front of a packed arena, it’s clear she has. And that, in itself, speaks volumes. Not just about her resilience but about the way audiences can grow alongside an artist. Cancel culture often allows no room for nuance, but Sabrina’s return reminds us that people deserve the chance to evolve, and art deserves the chance to be heard.
Her latest project, Fall in Love with Her, played like a statement of self-possession. The album blends her signature sensual R&B with more expansive, atmospheric arrangements, and in a live setting those textures came alive. The songs moved with fluidity, almost dreamlike, yet carried enough punch to hold the room. It was an affirmation that she’s not only rebounded but is pushing forward artistically, and the crowd’s response suggested they were more than ready to embrace this new chapter.
Big Sean’s set functioned like a bridge between generations of hip-hop. Over the past five years, he’s remained a steady presence: his Better Me Than You landed in 2024, and collaborations since have kept him sharp. He worked the stage like a pro, stringing together a setlist that played to his strengths.
The moment that shook the arena came with “I Don’t F* With You,”** still one of the most undeniable bangers of the 2010s. DJ Mustard’s production hit like a thunderclap, and the entire building erupted into a cathartic sing-along. It was less performance and more ritual, a reminder of how deeply that track has embedded itself into hip-hop culture.
Russ’s entrance… which was a atop a neon lit mountain of structure of the artwork on his latest album… felt like the main event of a heavyweight fight: except instead of gloves, he brought an arsenal of songs that stretched across more than a decade of work. Even before he appeared, the music pulsing through the speakers felt carefully chosen. When Jonica’s “Being a Girl” slipped into the mix, it was a wink to the discerning ear, a subtle sign that Russ himself may have curated the pre-show medley.
Then came the set itself. Over 40 tracks deep, a staggering marathon of catalog flexing. While many of his songs lean short, packing their weight into tight bursts, delivering that much music in a single night is an impressive feat in itself. He threaded through eras: the breakout “Losing Control,” SoundCloud relics like “Willy Wonka” and “Moonlight in Atlanta,” intimate cuts like “Cherry Hill,” and fresh debuts like “Getting to It.” The breadth alone spoke to his longevity.
What stood out even more was the crowd. The Intuit Dome was sold out, wall to wall with fans who didn’t just show up… they showed out. Standing among them, it felt like anyone around me could rap or sing along to any track, whether it was a 2012 deep cut or a 2025 release from W!ld. Russ himself put it best during a freestyle: “I don’t have fans, I have believers.” And looking around, that wasn’t hyperbole. This wasn’t casual appreciation; it was devotion built over years of transparency and consistency.
I’ll admit, I wasn’t one of those fans who could spit bar for bar with the diehards around me. But what struck me was that I still felt like I belonged. There was a sense of kinship in the building, a collective underdog spirit that mirrored Russ’s own story. Everybody in that dome was just trying to make it, just trying to carve out a path. His music isn’t exclusionary; it’s for everybody. Lyrically, he doesn’t front about being something he’s not. He’s authentic, and that authenticity bridges every divide: ballers and ballerinas, hustlers and dreamers, average joes just looking for inspiration. This was a crowd of “everybodys,” unified by the words and melodies of hip-hop’s everyman.
Russ is also no longer just a rapper or producer… he’s a multi-hyphenate. The fact that he’s now stepping into acting adds another dimension to his career, proof that his creative drive doesn’t stop at music. But what makes him different is that everything still feels artist-driven, from the music to the storytelling to the strategy. He’s built an empire by owning his masters, protecting his intellectual property, and betting on himself when others doubted.
The night closed on “Breathe” and the lingering lyric “I’m 40 seconds out”, a send-off that felt equal parts intimate and triumphant. After 40-plus tracks, the energy in the building hadn’t dipped—it had grown, fueled by the kind of connection you can’t manufacture.
At Intuit Dome, Russ didn’t just perform. He proved that independence, when matched with talent and vision, can fill arenas. And for every aspiring artist watching, that blueprint might be the most important song of all.
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LIVE CLIPS
