“It’s not that Swift had the most skill as a DJ,” says club producer and personal friend Diamond K. But, crucially, “she had swag and she had personality and she also had the ear — she knew what records to play.”

Thousands of people attended her funeral service at Morgan State University, where her body was delivered by a horse-drawn carriage. In the months following her death, a sad truth emerged: K-Swift had been so successful in carving her own niche that no one could fill the void she left behind. As clubs like Hammerjacks closed and 92 Q refocused on hip-hop, Baltimore’s signature sound started to fade into the background.

On a national level, though, elements of Baltimore Club proved commercially viable. Groundbreaking DJ Blaqstarr signed with Diplo’s dance imprint Mad Decent. Local firebrand Rye Rye occupied a bit part in the 2012 remake of 21 Jump Street. Rumor has it that Rod Lee produced the Buggles-sampling beat of will.i.am and Nicki Minaj’s hit 2010 song “Check It Out,” but sold the rights in lieu of credit. The charts reflected a new interest in club music as dubstep, EDM, and trap started to dominate the airways.

K-Swift’s final show at Artscape.

When Florida native Tedra Wilson arrived in Baltimore to attend Maryland Institute College of Art, Baltimore was still in mourning for its lost star. Club music was still around, but lacked leadership as visible as K-Swift. As an art student, she was drawn in by the city’s raw energy and distinct sound, and as a queer woman of color, she found an accepting community for people like herself. Almost instantly, she knew she wanted to become “not just a spectator, but a participant.” She began to show up at events, meet the people who defined the sound, and, finally, performing as TT the Artist.

In the ensuing decade, TT worked tirelessly to earn her place in the scene, and her impact on Baltimore Club cannot be overstated. She’s the one artist working today that hews closest to the roots of her genre’s sound. She’s even producing a documentary on Baltimore Club, though production was delayed after her equipment was stolen. She’s hustled her way into near-unanimous respect in Baltimore, especially among her contemporaries. TT also boasts a sizable following outside Baltimore, beloved by publications like i-D and The FADER. All the attention is why she packed up and left for Los Angeles not long ago, a move she compares to being a parent and sending a child off to college, except the other way around. The most important part of her journey, though, was learning that she shouldn’t be competing with anyone.

“I gave up trying to be a star a long time ago,” TT repeats over and over, trying to get the point across. “I gave up trying to be a star when I realized what real community was about.”

Abdu Ali, another performer inspired by Baltimore Club, fills plenty of roles: multi-hyphenate musician, gender non-conforming rapper, outspoken advocate of Baltimore’s club cachet. Ali is still searching for their pronouns — nothing feels quite right, and even being forced to explain a gender identity seems unjust — but the performer uses gender-neutral honorifics. Ali grew up steeped in Baltimore’s “very black” culture. Within walking distance of their Baltimore home, Ali could visit the legendary club Paradox, and Baltimore Club was always playing on radios and stereos, as if emanating from the city itself.

“When I started making music, it was straight-up, ‘I’m going to make some black empowerment anthems,’” Ali says. This is part of the reason why Baltimore hasn’t broken on a national level, at least not yet. “Now I think it is coming back because people want shit that isn’t the mainstream.”

Abdu Ali in the Remington neighborhood of Baltimore.

Listening to Baltimore Club feels like an act of civil disobedience, especially when the artists at the forefront of the evolving genre — TT, Ali, Mighty Mark, DDm, RoVo Monty, Kotic Couture, Trillnatured— are people of color, many of whom identify as queer. Although the genre has been around for decades, it’s uniquely suited for today’s political moment. It’s a middle finger to the powers that be, racing forward at 130 BPM. As the star power of Baltimore’s new wave of club artists grows, so does their hometown’s interest in the once-forgotten genre. Version grows more popular and more visible each month. TT the Artist’s music has been featured on every season of the smash hit HBO series Insecure. Hammerjacks, which closed over a decade ago, is scheduled to reopen as a multi-million dollar entertainment complex next fall. The unfulfilled promises left behind by K-Swift’s legacy finally seem close to coming true.

RoVo Monty, another member of the third wave of club-inspired performers, understands this potential perfectly: “It’s Baltimore’s time, and we’re fighting for that,” Monty says. “We here. We been here. Let us in or we’re knocking down the door.”