Spin-offs of popular television shows rarely work, but The Drop: A Snowfall Saga is an exception.
The eight-episode series picks up about four years after its predecessor left off, but now instead of following the crew as they navigate the ’80s crack epidemic, we follow them as they try to conquer the rap game during the early days of the genre’s commercial viability. The story follows Wanda (played by Gail Bean) after her and Leon (played by Isaiah John) get back from Ghana. She’s cleaned herself up after being addicted to crack and is working on fixing her reputation by legitimizing herself as a record executive during the early ’90s.
But what makes The Drop impressive is that it’s also a family drama, and highlights the nuances of L.A. gang culture. During a specific scene, the audience sees Artillery (played by Simmie “Buddy” Sims III) holing up in a Crip ‘hood after bring chased by the cops — something consultant Glasses Malone commended showrunner Malcolm Spellman for being able to pull off on screen. “Spellman understands that a Blood could be in a house with Crips, like when Artillery’s grandparents live in a Crip neighborhood,” he tells me over Zoom. “You see him in a house full of Crips, and it’s all love. That situation isn’t this astronomical end of the world thing.”
Malcolm Spellman hails from the Bay, but has been in the L.A. area for about 30 years, and is old enough to remember ’90s Southern California — which, of course, influenced his perspective. “Motherf—kers were not around to see what it was like to be a big time D-Boy in 1991; even Glasses is too young to have seen what the f—k it was like,” he says about those days. “I’m old enough that I was hanging out with them dudes. They was motherf—king stars. The D-boys was for real bigger stars than the rappers. Most of America was still not really f—king with hip-hop.”
The Drop: A Snowfall Saga will surprise you. It’s more than just a show about L.A.’s rap scene during the early ’90s. It’s also a show with a lot of heart.
Check out Billboard‘s conversation with Spellman and Malone below, before tonight’s (Oct. 27) finale airs.
I gotta be honest, The Drop has been better than I expected it to be. You never really know if you’re going to like a spin-off or not. I originally thought it was going to be about Leon and Wanda’s experience in Ghana — so how did we instead get to the story of the record industry during early ’90s L.A.?
Malcolm Spellman: So, before I even came on, the original showrunners and FX wanted to do the record industry. I don’t know how much they knew, but it was a perfect mirror — because crack goes off like a bomb right when West Coast rap was emerging.
And let me explain something to the people who are misinterpreting what I’m saying about hip-hop coming to the West Coast — the center of hip-hop was New York, but where the conversation was was the West Coast, and then the conversation went to the South, where it’s been the last 20 years or whatever, right? And when it came to the West Coast, it was right at the height of the explosion of military policing, gang-banging, everything that crack inflamed. And so, basically, you can’t have one without the other. Snowfall was the bomb going off, The Drop: A Snowfall Saga is the news report on the bomb.
I also like how its not only a story about the early days of the record industry as it pertains to rap music, but it’s also a family drama. Talk about like why that was important to incorporate.
M.S.: I felt like we had to show as much soulfulness — and I’m stealing Glasses’ words — but it did personify what we was trying to do. You know how people used to say “soul” music? We wanted to make a “soul” show, and Glasses was the one who kept saying, “Man, this show got too much soul to fail.” So, centering it around the family gave it a chance to give this Blackness an emotion and a humanity that would sort of make these experiences that you’re seeing on screen as opposed to like a highlight reel.
So, Glasses, what was your role as a consultant? Making sure everything felt authentic?
G.M.: I would like to believe it’s a little bit different than that. I think they [already] had Skipp Townsend and Jimmy Chris, and really dope brothers who were from that time period. We’re talking about in the prime of their their career during that time period, as far as being in the streets. I remember being 11-12 when this stuff was happening, and I feel like it started off as something simple as that — but it grew into being able to add some story to it, whether that be dialogue or making sure the fashion is correct.
But then I realized by the end, it was more about adding heart to everything, and that became the most important thing to me. I think what The Drop did really well — and I would like to believe I helped in in this order — is making sure that nuance existed.
That’s funny that you brought that up, because when he broke into the house, I thought it was going to be some beef that caught up to them, because of some stuff that happened previously. Instead, it’s one of the homies having an episode and trippin’ out. That type of stuff happens every day in the hood.
G.M.: This whole story is very much my existence. I mean, even from coming from the game and the streets to making it in the music industry through hip-hop and it saving my life, to having my homeboys be in my house on sherm and having to manage them, to my older sisters being upset that I’m living my life in the streets and me trying to gain back their trust. Some of my homeboys’ moms are Wanda. You know, that person that was on crack when I was in the streets, and then watching them get their life back together and having to reclaim their image and their reputation while having to go through hell to do it.
I was with Isaiah this weekend at his house, and I’m just looking at him, like, “Damn! I wonder how much does he know that he represents me in this story?” Somebody that’s been through so much, saw it all, and still had to find a peace and calm and try to contribute to the community the best way you can. Having friends who felt like they should have been entitled to more and trying to press a line, and me having to show a level of force. So, it’s really personal to me. I think I handled every little thing that I could with care.
There’s a scene that I noticed people on social media talking about — where Leon is drinking in his crib, looking and old photos of the Snowfall crew while listening to soul music — and this is where we learn that he and Wanda had a miscarriage. Talk about the challenges of tying those strings together, where you connect this show to its predecessor while also giving some much needed background on why Leon and Wanda’s romantic relationship remains broken at the moment.
M.S.: First of all, when this comes out, I hope you can express how organically Glasses fits into the story. Just hearing him right there, you can see how he would organically be in a writer’s room. The gift is to be able to not only understand a story, but to take a real life story and then add his sauce to it, and give it to us within the flow of the conversation. Because a lot of motherf—kers come in the room, and they’ll disrupt where the story’s going. So, you just saw right there in this interview how the room works, right? The way he just jumped in and fits those real stories in, plus whatever his opinion is.
Now, as far as connecting to Snowfall, that was a real high-wire act because as the vision came together, the show became very, very different, and we knew the hardcore fans were going to be struggling with that for a couple episodes on how different it feels. It’s a warmer show. It’s a little bit softer. It’s music. It’s Black folk going for their dreams, which is inherently different than black folk committing a crime. It’s just a different energy, and what we wanted to do was be very respectful to the original series, which is one of the GOATS, right?
And to allow ourselves to be free, so it wasn’t an accident that Big Deon comes in very early as a nod to the fans, as if to say, “Hey, y’all, we hear you. We respect you. We’re showing you that we’re considering the original.” We keep it alive, but I’m gonna steal from you again, Glasses. This is a story that’s going on right around the block from where you saw Franklin and them.
For me, it feels like there’s some 2Pac influence in Artillery’s character. Who did you guys use as inspiration when you were coming up with him?
M.S.: Buddy wrote that character. I do know this, I did not want a typical, thuggish rapper because I’ve been in L.A. so long and seen how these motherf—kers are behind the scenes, and how they’re real artful and brilliant motherf—kers. You only see one side of the s—t. All we told Buddy and all we described about the character is that he had true artist’s spirit like a DMX and a 2Pac. Guys that kinda know they’re not gonna be here too long and that his mind was free.
A great example would be in the scene in the pilot, with the N-word, when he says “N—r Man, N—r Man, N—r Man, n—r, n—r, n—a, n—r, and then points at himself and says, “Man,” right? I wrote it one way to make that point, and Buddy took it and made it into what you saw. And the truth is, at some point in the auditions, the character just became Buddy, because of who he is. Buddy’s the real deal. He’s from Compton. He’s from a real neighborhood, and he is what you see. So, that was the spirit of Pac and DMX that we wanted to capture, and Buddy put his personality on top of it.
For people like that, art and authenticity is the most important thing.
G.M.: When you grow up how we grew up, the environment and the stuff happening around you shapes people. It makes sense that you could get a Tupac and a DMX, and they’re not that far apart. Even an artist like Buddy, who is not that far from any of those guys, because the same circumstances shaped and molded him. So, you have a unique perspective, but it’s very much an archetype.
We was talking about the brilliance of Spellman on Tip’s show, Expeditiously, and the fact that he could recognize that version of a person could be in Oakland or Berkeley or Vallejo, and they could be in Compton, in Watts, even in Yonkers or Philadelphia. You don’t need to necessarily emulate a person because — I’m not that different than Dr. Dre, because of how we grew up and the things that shaped us.
Let’s talk about Lamar, because Buddy kind of grew up like that. He’s from Compton, but wasn’t banging, yet he still had to navigate that environment. When you come up in the hood, there’s a pretty good chance that you have family and friends that are different types of things, which your parents or O.G.’s try to shield you from. I’ve seen a lot of discourse around that character’s actions on social media. To me, he reminds me of the theme to Kendrick’s good kid, m.A.A.d city. He’s growing up in this hectic environment while being naive enough to follow his dreams and not care about what everybody else thinks. Am I making the right assumption?
M.S.: It’s funny watching the reaction to Lamar. II really am fascinated by it — because No. 1 , let me first state this: We don’t base our characters on nobody. We don’t watch other TV shows and say, “This character’s like that.” We don’t tell Buddy to be like one of these guys, right? You mentioned family earlier. You are meeting a family that you’re gonna be following for this series, and we want them to be their own family.
And when it comes to Lamar, the reaction to him is really interesting, in that the intensity makes me believe that motherf—kers are actually frustrated, because they’re invested in the character. And I think one of the things they get mad at is, when you watch any white TV show, there’s characters who are “different” at the center of them stories, and they’re embraced and protected, and the fans get it.
This story takes place in 1990, 1991, where if you were maybe a little bit on the spectrum or a little bit odd, there wasn’t no f—king terms for you, bro. You getting socked in your face, you getting dealt with, you getting sheltered. They gonna lock you in a room, give you some music equipment, take your ass to church, and hope you don’t get killed in the most dangerous time in our country’s history. I hope they stay around and get to see what real hip-hop was about — because there wasn’t no streaming, there wasn’t no arguing about who made the most money.
Rappers rapped about that, because the fantasy was having the mansion and the yacht. But these characters care about what they’re doing — and if you look at Lamar, everything he’s done has been about fighting for his art, and the f—king audience be getting mad at him. They be like, “Listen to the label. Why you ain’t listening to the label?” And it’s like, “Yo, y’all don’t know.” This is how you get great s—t, when you don’t listen to the label.
And then there’s the reason why his grandmother is trying to protect him from the music business because of what ended up happening to his mother. The industry swallowed her whole, and Mama G is trying to protect him from suffering the same fate. Talk about the seduction of the music industry, and how you guys tried to approach that.
M.S.: One thing no one has caught yet is the way music destroyed this family once, it’s gonna destroy the new family again. That’s gonna be the whole series. Lamar is on the same journey as his mother. I don’t know why people ain’t getting it. But when you keep seeing Gertie say, “You are so much like your mother,” or Big Daddy say the same thing — they’re saying the reason they’re scared is because this dude is special and gifted like his mother, and not built for the industry. I feel like for me, that’s been my f—king journey, right? Same story as everybody else. Been through all the s—t, and I don’t feel I’m built for Hollywood.
This industry bothers me — and I’m not in the hot seat like stars like Lamar or Artillery would be, but I identify with the journey and the seduction in the music business, and watching how it turns people against each other. The fans are gonna be seeing that every single season, and it’s gonna get worse as the money gets bigger. It’s gonna get worse. And one last thing, season one is all set up before we’re really in the industry, and we will see the bad side of everybody.
G.M.: What I really appreciate about Spellman is his rejection of conformity. I think that’s why our spirits work really well together. By the time I got to the music industry, I was already forged in so much steel because that’s how it is for me in the streets. I was so certain of who I was, and what I was not gonna be. It was different. You know, a lot of the things we do that are maybe not good for us are ways of us trying to bond with humans. We don’t always have the greatest communication to really get down into who we are and find that bond, so we share through ways of dealing with trauma like smoking weed or smoking sherm with a homie.
Watching somebody like Spellman fight to keep things right… there was an argument — I don’t know if I’m supposed to say this — but FX was arguing about the length of a Harold Melvin & the Blue Notes song. I remember it being a couple days where they wanted to cut the timing down of “I Miss You.” They’re thinking like, “What f—k is the purpose of this long-ass song playing while the actors are talking over the audio?” He fought to keep that soul, and didn’t worry about pleasing the suits, because he understood the assignment of what he was trying to do. If he listens to them, they might bond and gel a little bit more. They’ll feel like he’s taking their advice.
M.S.: Can I ask you a question, Glasses, real quick? Because you have seen what Angel’s talking about too, though. Can you talk about what you’ve seen? One of the things about the seduction and the music business is someone like Glasses will probably never be as rich as he could be if he let it seduce him more. But Glasses, can you talk about when you’ve seen a camp where someone gets hot, and when that music business light beams on them, it rips apart the family.
G.M.: I’ve been that person. I came into the business with Top, Rock, Dot and Nip. All of these are my guys. It sounds like I’m saying something separate, but it’s really together. It’s really that serious. So many things seem like it’s about you. That’s the trickiest part, and I think that’s what makes it the same. You start forgetting that this was not ever just you, right?
There’s this weird expression in hip-hop — and it’s such an oxymoron — self-made. Nothing about that could even be possible. It’s people trying to make you feel better about who you are. That’s the seduction of it. Like, “You’re the man.” That’s what they are telling you. And you’re looking like, “But this person did the music, this person did this, this person did that.”
Also, you think the money’s just gonna keep flowing, you think you’re gonna keep selling scripts, stuff like that. It the same in the streets. You get addicted to the money coming hand over fist. That faucet turns off sometimes and it’ll turn off on you too.
M.S.: Yep, it happened to me, bro. It happened to me a few times in my career, and people don’t be knowing that. I be trying to mentor young filmmakers coming up, and I’ve been on that rollercoaster ride of being hot, and people I don’t know calling me and inviting me and throwing jobs at me, and then being ice cold. Don’t nobody prepare you for that part when it all goes cold.
What can we expect from the finale?
M.S.: Remember, season one we’re meeting the family and setting things up. So, season two will be the music biz. We gonna see how the label f—ks with people. We gonna see how different people’s crews start to clash over who’s the hottest rapper and all that s—t. Tiptoe will emerge a little more in tonight’s episode. I said earlier that everyone shows their worst side and their best side, right? I ain’t gonna spoil nothing, but whoever you ain’t seen that from is gonna show it in the finale.
Okay, so we should be getting a season two.
M.S.: I think it’s likely. I think it’s very likely.
G.M.: When I first met Malc, he knew what season three was going to be.
M.S.: Season three is what everybody wants, which is the bulls—t.
The bulls—t that comes with being a rap star and all that stuff?
M.S.: Our consultants is the people that was there, right? As the streets sprinted to get the f—k out the dope game, they piled in and brought some dysfunction. I ain’t gonna blame them for everything, but some of that dysfunction from the streets spills into the record business. It wasn’t just Death Row; it was Bad Boy. All the labels had to deal with basically a murder epidemic. There’s no other way to describe it. Please put this in the interview. There’s a documentary, Hip-Hop Uncovered, and Dre says during the four years he was at Death Row, 20 something affiliates were murdered.
Like when Mase left Bad Boy because he was like, “Yo, I’m in the industry to get out the streets, but this s—t still happening around me.”
G.M.: Too $hort told me, “Glasses, I didn’t know I could be rich. I just knew that I could be the man around the way.” They saw money, but they was like, “I could be the man.” The streets was the industry. Hip-hop was only the streets. You had to grow up around the way or culturally injected. The same thing that happened with gangbanging happened to hip-hop, when the money change, the violence got crazy. Whenever it’s big money, it’s gonna get real s—tty. People gonna get really hurt. If you look at stories of gangbanging from ’69 to ’79, we ain’t even talking about 100 people died from that old time period.
There wasn’t big money in the streets like it.
G.M.: Boy, when that crack money came in and started to flow through there, the guns even changed. It went from it went from pistols and muskets to Uzis and Tecs and violence. Same thing with hip-hop from ’69 to around ’87. Scott La Rock passing away was a big deal. But it got worse when that money started to funnel in.
Yeah, man. Biggie and Pac dying sent shockwaves — but how many rappers have died since then?
M.S.: It’s interesting. When we was doing the doc, Hip-Hop Uncovered, (which is on FX,) there was a stat that said the No. 1 cause of death for rappers was murder, right? But also, the No. 1 cause of death for Black men who are the same age as rappers is murder. So, all they’re doing is bringing the street stat into the music business.
I think one of the things that happened is…You got Ice Cube, who says, “I don’t bang, I rock the good rhymes.” Ice Cube is from the streets, saw the streets, knows the streets, but was allowed to be one of the greatest rappers of all time. The rappers today, not all of them, but there is a certain demographic of young men today who brag about the fact that they’re not rappers. They’re really street dudes who are just rapping money. Them be the dudes who are dying because they’re real street dudes.