PUBLIC LISTENING: RAISING CANE’S
CHICKEN FINGERS AND TURNTABLISM
A few weeks ago, I found myself in Times Square. Happens more than you might think. It was a Friday night and I was feeling out of my mind. I needed some chicken fingers.
Raising Cane’s is a chicken chain that was founded in 1996 in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. Cane’s business plan started as a college project that got a C-Minus. Now, its annual revenue is in the billions. Now, fans of the restaurant are referred to as “Caniacs.” Clearly, whoever gave that grade was a bit out of touch. There is a lesson here: Never underestimate America’s hunger for children’s food.
Unlike one of their competitors, Zaxbys—who sells a chicken salad concoction they perversely refer to as a Zalad®—Cane’s menu is minimalist. The restaurant is like the In-N-Out of chicken: all they have are fingers, fries, Texas toast, coleslaw, and a single sauce. If you’re really a fucking freak, I guess you could get a chicken sandwich. But why would you do that?
On my last tour before the pandemic, the last tour I’ve gone on, period, I talked about Cane’s so much that YACHT, the headlining band, pulled the classy move of hitting me and the band with gift cards on the final day of the run. Though Cane’s has been spreading all over America, they have been slow to come to New York; only recently did I get to use that card, and the experience I had at the flagship Times Square Cane’s was even better than I expected… There was a live DJ in the mix.
So I had to go back a second time. For an edition of Public Listening.
I know that Real New Yorkers aren’t supposed to like Times Square, but since I’m not and never will be a Real New Yorker, I can go too far in the other direction. I can say that I love it, and I guess that is true on a level, but out of the subway and onto the street, wading through the thick Friday night crowd, I started to question everything about my life. The Cane’s is a short walk from the train; in the restaurant’s window display, encased in glass and directly behind the DJ, I spotted a giant sculpture of a chicken finger and fries. Koons level. I entered and hit the line and immediately got hit with a Sean Paul classic.
It would be nice to say here that I was “contemplating my order,” but there was not much to contemplate: I was going to get chicken fingers and fries. DJ Kharisma was our DJ for the night; she was in the mix, and she was mixing quick. I could tell that it was going to be an intense meal. I was forced to lose my place in line and walk through the Cane’s, whose decor felt like a brightly lit dance club, or maybe the gift shop at a college football stadium, to get closer to the DJ booth and Shazam this song, which takes “Drift” by the Jamaican artists Teejay and DJ Mac and puts it on top of a sort of interpolation of “Badman Forward” by Ding Dong. Or at least, I think. Dancehall experts weigh in... What’s going on here?
7:06: Black Eyed Peas “Hey Mama”
In the time it took for me to take care of that simple task, at least 10 other customers had arrived and jumped in the line. It was probably for the better, the way Kharisma was running through cuts. The DJ is a full pro and a resident on 94.7 The Block, a New York radio station that specializes in throwback hip hop hits. The Block is one example of an oldies rap radio format that has been tried on and off for many years now. I had no idea that this particular station existed.
Kharisma was mixing too fast. There was too much for me to think about and focus on: the music, the decor, the line. Somehow, it was time to order.
7:10: Naughty By Nature “Hip Hop Hooray”
I put in an order for a Box Combo: four chicken fingers and all the other shit I listed above. There was a problem with my receipt, which led me to miss at least two songs; by the time I could pull my head up from underwater, “Hip Hop Hooray” was ringing out, a song that I would say epitomizes the “oldies hip hop” radio format. In my own attempts at making rap music, it was always a convoluted conceptual goal to indirectly reference a song like “Hip Hop Hooray” in the same way that Springsteen alluded to girl groups or ‘60s garage rock. Every few weeks, I’ll have a fleeting urge to rap again, but then I’ll have to remind myself of the many reasons why that is not a good idea.
7:12: Jay-Z “I Just Wanna Love U (Give It 2 Me)”
I got the food. My attempts to find a place to sit somewhat near the DJ booth were foiled again and again, to the point where I missed two or three more songs, mixed in rapid succession. I appreciate a quick mix more than almost anyone. But this shit was frazzling my fragile domepiece. I finally found a spot at a small sliver of bar overlooking the main dining area.
7:14: Jennifer Lopez “Get Right”
I was dipping chicken into the Thousand Island-ish Cane’s sauce, trying to eat and type with one hand. The chicken fingers were good—there’s not much more that I can say about the quality of the chicken fingers; they were “plump” and “crispy”—but I’m not sure if I was enjoying the chicken, or the music, for that matter. It was hard, knowing a mix was imminent, and I would have to smear more grease on my phone’s screen.
I don’t make the rules: Foodie culture is slipping. People just want to go to diners and mid French restaurants. Raising Cane’s is a destination spot. The crowd that night was a blend of tourists and people who looked more like locals. Kids were screaming, and dads were wiping Cane’s sauce off of their polos. I tucked into a piece of Texas toast.
7:17: Usher “Hey Daddy (Daddy’s Home)”
It’s really an incredible feeling to hear live scratching at a fast-casual chicken chain. At Cane’s Times Square, there are disco balls on the ceiling and there is a graffiti mural on the wall. To the right of the DJ booth in the main dining room sits a section of the restaurant demarcated as the “Caniac Corner.” The couches are like spilt pieces of Texas toast, and the table is a cup of Cane’s sauce. Raising Cane’s didn’t have to put a DJ inside all of this, but they did, and I appreciate that.
7:18: Taylor Swift “Cruel Summer (Remix)”
Kharisma dropped some sort of remix or blend of “Cruel Summer,” but I could not identify it. I failed you all. How many remixes exist of this song? The one playing at Cane’s had litefeet-ish NYC rap drums behind it, which made me wonder if any of the Showtime kids have ever rocked to it. That would be a go for all the Midwest transplants on the L Train.
The fries are always the most underwhelming part of the meal at Cane’s. I’ve never really fucked with crinkle cut. Save that shit for the freezer bag! “Gyalis” is a Cash Money-sampling story song that I remember hearing out of every other car two summers ago—a contemporary Bronx classic.
7:20: Rihanna (Feat. Drake) “Work”
I dug into my slaw and “Work.” To the left of me, a man sang along, deep in the middle of a video chat. I turned my head back at the line and became transfixed by the sight of two men in backwards baseball caps. They looked like they could be queuing at an SEC football game.
7:23: Burna Boy & Gyptian “Last Last/Hold Yuh (Mixed)”
The kind stranger to the right of me, noticing that I was struggling to eat and type at the same time, offered a handful of napkins. I noticed that my soda had what I like to refer to simply as “the good ice” in it. What is the good ice? It’s softer than usual and often described as nugget-like; it’s found at Sonic Drive-Ins across America; it’s a favorite of all the experts over at r/IceChewersAnonymous.
Drake is such a millennial blogger type. Why is he always trying to prove to the world that he has a working knowledge of regional rap music? Look, I get it. I’m also an aging hipster… You know, actually, I’m not sure if this observation is even relevant anymore. I haven’t been able to make it through a Drake record in a minute. I did like that one bounce song more than I should’ve, but I'm now realizing that came out five years ago.
7:29: Saweetie (Feat. Doja Cat & Katja Krasavice) “Best Friend (Remix)”
“Best Friend (Remix)” was working its way into my brain, but Kharisma was already mixing into another Drake song. It was time for me to go. Will I be back? There is no doubt in my mind. Some days I have no idea who I am or what I’m doing in this world, but one thing I do know is that I am nothing if not a Caniac. After exiting the restaurant, I walked a few blocks before momentarily stopping to watch a shirtless man, ski mask on, gut hanging out of his sagging skinny jeans, stand atop an electronic trash can and lip sync a rap song into a video camera.
Ooh baby, this is the kind of great writing that could only be in a newsletter. Funny, casual, and clearly torured by its love for its topic. You SHOULD start rapping again, why is that such a bad idea?
"Save that shit for the freezer bag!" is real. Heard.