At Underground Rap Showcase, The Counselor Is In

Jisu Sheen reports from a 17-artist hip-hop blow-out at the Cellar.

· 3 min read
At Underground Rap Showcase, The Counselor Is In
Christyal Thoughts, rapper and LPCA. Credit: Jisu Sheen photo

Secure: 2026
The Cellar on Treadwell
295 Treadwell St.
Hamden
Jan. 9, 2026

Deep lyrics about life’s struggles bounced to a hip hop beat at the Cellar on Treadwell in Hamden Friday night. “Best believe I’m human,” rapped Christina Thompson, AKA. Christyal Thoughts. “And I do get stressed.”

If audience members agreed with Thompson’s words, they could dance and nod their heads. They could also speak with a licensed mental health professional on the premises.

The therapist wasn’t hard to find. She was illuminated by stage lights and given a prime spot in front of the DJ. She was, in fact, the one at the mic.

“If you need someone to talk to, I’m in the building,” Thompson told the audience at the beginning of her set. She holds a Licensed Professional Counselor Associate (LPCA) certification and was prepared to speak to attendees about whatever they might be going through.

The show, titled “Secure: 2026,” was run by Full Blast Booking, an indie music organization that promotes not just artists, but also mental health. Thompson was one of 17 rappers on the lineup, raising money for Full Blast Booking’s annual Tour for Life. To date, the tour has raised $89,000 for Mental Health Connecticut, a nonprofit organization that provides services including counseling, residential programs, employment support for the Deaf and hard of hearing, and homelessness outreach.

“Sometimes I can’t sleep,” Christyal Thoughts sang into the mic. Set to a spacey, slow beat, her song evoked a melancholic feeling familiar in moody forms of hip-hop.

Thompson’s identity as a mental health practitioner added a deeper layer to the words. Not being able to sleep is more than a setup for introspection; it can also be an indicator of certain mental health conditions.

The venue was practically wallpapered with band stickers and set lists from previous shows. Kaleidoscopic collages wrapped around the structural beams, up on the ceiling, and into the bathroom. As performers made their way on and off the stage, I felt like I could fall back into the patchwork, one shape of many decorating the space.

It was the chillest introduction I could imagine for someone considering getting help for their mental wellbeing. Sometimes, barriers to treatment can be financial or schedule-related. Other times, it’s about making the decision to start. At Friday’s show, that roadblock was shaved down to the ground.

Just a few steps from the bar, attendees could pick up a bookmark with the 988 suicide and crisis lifeline number or an info card about free mental health screenings. Full Blast Booking’s Kenny “Duece Bug” Mercer told the crowd that every show the group runs has on-site therapists, like Thompson, available for free sessions or just to talk about therapy itself.

“In the middle of the night,” Thompson’s backing track called out in between her rhymes. The phrase surfaced at regular beats, playing off her verses on insomnia and the listlessness that follows.

“Y’all feel like this sometimes?” she asked the crowd. 

Performers took moments in their sets to relay messages about mental health, carving out subtle footholds of encouragement for whoever might need it.

Music fans in the room were no stranger to the highs and lows of the human condition; loving music means seeing the emotions behind it. At the Cellar Friday night, the audience was reminded that they could take steps to improve their relationships with their minds.

“Don’t ever forget that mental health is important,” DJ Funksway said in between performers.

“IGB, IGB,” rapper 203ty said into the mic, a likely shortening of the phrase, “It Gets Better.” In his music, he promised he was “never gonna let the vision fade to black.”

“It don’t hurt to help somebody,” said rapper Sparkingtin. “It’s 2026, man. Help somebody.”

“Vibe with me, y’all,” Christyal Thoughts called out as she let the moment ride. Her song didn’t have a neatly wrapped conclusion, just a peek into a feeling many in the underground venue could relate to.

After her set, she folded into the crowd near the center of the room, available for anyone who might want to talk.

Musical group G.E.B. coordinating verses and ad-libs.