Ante Up | a new age of hip hop

For a form of music so deeply rooted in a culture of self-certainty and dazzling bravado, you might not expect artists of the genre to be tackling sensitive issues relating to isolation, depression, violence and substance abuse. This however, is exactly what we’ve seen take place with fresh new artists championing the cause to give these issues a well-deserved place in the spotlight.

The emergence of honest and introspective rap is far from a new phenomenon; in fact some of our most celebrated rap artists including Biggie, Tupac and Eminem have been known to rap about the grim realities of their past with brave honesty. In Death Around The Corner Tupac plays the role of a character living in a harsh urban wasteland where the “skinny” people “die” and where his character is fixated on “staying high”. His effort to escape this numbing habit quickly spirals into a loss of control, anxiety and paranoia. He draws parallels between himself and his father who he says was “madder than a motherfucker”, as he realizes the hereditary nature of his tendencies. Artists have since continued along this stream of self-reflection and social commentary but this has often been paired with equally striking and blooming confidence, and a focus on issues that the artist has overcome, and so serves as a sign of success rather than weakness.

Alternatively artists like Marshall Mathers have indirectly gone about channeling these thoughts through characters elaborately created to touch upon whatever is deemed taboo. This technique has been employed more recently by artists such as Tyler the Creator who plays Wolf Haley, a balaclava wearing alter ego with a taste for “Green paper, gold teeth, and pregnant gold retrievers”. Through Wolf he expresses the darker and more twisted corners of his imagination, but never without struggle, as Tyler retorts with “Fuck money, diamonds and bitches, don’t need ‘em” on his 2011 track Yonkers.

However despite hip hop and rap artists giving their troubled listeners something and someone to relate to, this hasn’t come without difficulty and backlash. Artists like Childish Gambino and Kid Cudi have grown accustomed to a storm of critics on social media labeling them as “soft” and “lame”. Often these criticisms have come from fellow musicians and prominent members of the music industry. Incidents like this remain proof that many listeners continue to yearn for the more traditional rhetoric of success, stories of coping in the face of adversity and transforming ones life from rags to riches.

Mental health and hip hop have had a difficult relationship for decades, with members of the culture insisting the matter being a fallacy, or worse, even a sign of weakness. This had led to many artists rejecting collaboration with those keen to speak out about personal vulnerabilities, or even worse, labels refusing to put out releases where these topics take center stage. Artists like Drake have been frequently mocked for speaking openly about their feelings of isolation, jealousy, paranoia and irrationality. Many of his releases were met with harsh criticism especially after recent tensions when Meek Mill accused Drake of using ghost writers on his album. Meek Mill took part in the back and forth on social media during which he attacked Drake saying “I heard that shit, that shit was very soft. Baby lotion soft”. In an environment where hyper masculinity and self-sufficiency are cherished, writing emotionally sensitive songs with the help of ghost writers often means asking for this kind of harsh reception. With this kind of backdrop, recent efforts by rap artists like Kendrick Lamar to speak out about isolation and substance abuse should be recognized and credited. In his track Swimming Pools, Kendrick speaks about how alcoholism begins with an attempt “to fit in the popular” and quickly spirals into a self-medicated need to “drown their sorrows”. Kendrick even goes to great lengths discussing the genetic predisposition to alcoholism when he raps about how his “granddaddy had that golden flask”.

One new artist in particular who experienced the brunt of rigid attitudes towards what a rap artist should or shouldn’t be is R&B/Soul musician Frank Ocean, who spoke very openly about being gay in the rap industry. In an interview in 2014, he spoke about the difficulty getting to work with other rap artists in a studio, simply because of their prejudices towards his sexual orientation. Nonetheless, Frank Ocean was able to garner a dedicated fan base with tracks such as Thinkin’ Bout You where he sings; “My eyes don’t shed tears, but boy, they bawl when I’m thinkin’ ‘bout you” – a subtle nod towards the love interest he sings about. More clearly however, on We All Try he sings “I believe that marriage isn’t between a man and woman, but between love and love”. Since, Ocean has received praise for his musical work and efforts to challenge the norms within the inner circle of musicians and tastemakers.

On Real Friends we hear Kanye West, a man notorious for his self proclaimed god-status, put his ego in the back seat to discuss trust issues and a looming sense of isolation. The track opens with Kanye asking questions, which appear to emerge from a deeply seated anxious psyche; “Real friends, how many of us? / How many of us, how many jealous? / Real friends / It’s not many of us, we smile at each other / But how many honest? / Trust issues”. In this case what is being said isn’t particularly profound no matter how honest, but what is important is who appears to be speaking about these issues. For artists like Kanye West to rap about his anxieties to the millions of listeners who tuned in to the release of Life of Pablo is a reflection of a time where that has been deemed more acceptable and a time where praise has started to replace backlash. On his album To Pimp A Butterfly, Kendrick Lamar features a track titled i, where a percussion heavy 70s soul groove is paired with a chorus of voices singing the lead hook “I love myself / Illuminted by the hand of God, boy don’t be shy / I love myself / One day at a time”. Here Kendrick brings something slightly more refreshing and previously lacking to the table. Instead of simply offering listeners the chance to relate to his troubles and struggles, he also offers to pick them up with a message of positivity and a reminder to love oneself.

A few days ago, hip hop pioneers A Tribe Called Quest released We Got It From Here…, their latest 16 track album featuring verses from the remaining three members and the late founding member of the group Phife Dawg. The album is a mind-bending excursion through troubles of our modern day, with focuses on sleeplessness in the digital age (as on Melatonin), isolation in a hyper-connected world, racial and political tensions (The Donald) as well as dealing with mourning and death. Throughout the album, Phife Dawg, Q-Tip, Ali Shaheed Muhammad and Jarobi White do what drew fans to the group in the first place: delivering an honest reflection of time we live in and standing by it. This is exactly what hip hop and rap music has always stood for. Be it good or bad, for better or for worse, truth and honesty have always held center stage such for artists of the genre. And so, with global shift in attitudes towards acceptance and diversity becoming more prominent and widespread, we can only expect these genres of music to be at the forefront of channeling this progressive change, with better things to come for artists and listeners alike.