Saturday was a banner night for Northwest hiphop at Chop Suey. Mass Line records had gathered an impressive roster of performers from near and far to celebrate the release of Lovework,, the debut solo record of Seattle native son Gabriel Teodros. By 10 p.m. the place was half-packed mostly with serious supporters – lots of pounds and hugs between friends – as the young female MCs of Canary Sing gave shout-outs to all the immigrants in the house.

Hosting the night was Khingz, Teodros’s partner in Abyssinian Creole, whose sister Rahwa Habte runs the blossoming hiphop hangout/Eritrean restaurant Hidmo. Khingz passed the mic to Burntface, an Atlanta MC with a sincere appreciation for the Seattle scene. “I used to think I was the only Ethiopian rapper,” he said. “Then I met Gabriel Teodros.” He launched into an intricate a capella with the refrain, “The President’s a gangsta/the Vice President’s a pee-yimp” before drawing out some heavy bounce from DJ Wd4d. “I’m an Ethiopian African-American,” he told the crowd between songs, “so I just call myself Blackopian.”

Up next was Beyond Reality, the duo of MC Kylea and her son, who looked to be around six or seven years old. “This is my hype man,” she told the crowd before busting into some supremely confident true school verses. The kid was fully on point, backing her up on choruses and shining with unabashed charisma. The pair pulled off a short, high-energy set like seasoned vets.

But when Medusa took the stage she left no doubt about who was running shit. To say the L.A. “gangsta goddess” doesn’t fuck around is an understatement. After a warning-shot a capella – “Gangstas, I’m tired of you fronting hard” — she stopped her second track five times until the sound man set the levels exactly as she wanted them: with her commanding voice up front and the beats hardly discernable. “Take what you want!” she boomed over a Middle Eastern-flavored beat. A few more times she told Wd4d to cut the music so she could incite the crowd, incite the sound guy, and generally berate any half-assers, and surprisingly, the tactic worked. By the end of her set, her overly rugged persona had grown tiring, but the entire room was at her command.

At 11:30 Chop Suey was crammed wall to wall with heads anxious for the main event. Teodros took the stage backed by a five-piece band and DJ. Keyboardist Amos Miller (who, in a local approximation of pre-bling Scott Storch, also produced Lovework) whipped the band into an instant froth while Teodros, diminutive among bigger bodies on stage, bounded into his set. His voice sounded thin after Medusa’s overbearing tone, but once he fell into cadence with the band the sound was full and funky. “Warriors” and its militant anti-status quo message drew the crowd in immediately. A brief instrumental interlude froze the hand-waving crowd for a minute as the band flexed their stuff.

At some point the stage lights went down and the band rocked a couple songs in total darkness, Teodros strobed by camera flashes. The crowd roared when the lights came on, and GT showed prowess on a new track seeing its debut that night. By the time he closed with “Lovework,” everyone was chanting along to the chorus: “Lovework, love is work.” The song, its style, its hook are all a perfect reflection of Teodros’ dedication to personal and cultural progress. And he put in overtime, as the rapt crowd pulled him back onstage for an encore appearance with the full band and entire roster of MCs. It was a fitting, collective finale to a night of, for, and by the hiphop community.