Music

Hip-hop debates sounded very different. People argued about lyrics, flows, albums, and influence. Fans debated whether a rapper had the best verse of the year or if an album would become a classic. Now the conversation sounds more like: first-week numbers, monthly listeners, and how many streams. Somewhere along the way, hip-hop stopped sounding like a culture and more like pocket watching.

For the past few weeks, the so-called “Epstein Files” have dominated headlines and timelines. It’s the number one trending topic across media platforms. Regardless, this being the number 1 trending topic in media and entertainment, the fact is that nobody is really being held accountable.

For years now, the underground rap scene has been marketed as raw, unfiltered, anti-industry, and closer to the people. No labels. No rules. Just vibes, Discord servers, and “realness”. But buried beneath the aesthetics, the fashion, and the cult followings is an uncomfortable truth that too many fans have accepted as the new normal. A recurring pattern of grooming and inappropriate relationships with minors!

Death has become the fastest career upgrade in hip-hop. The moment a rapper passes away, something strange happens. Streams go up. IG followers go up. And people who never publicly supported them suddenly post broken-heart emojis and write paragraphs about “what they meant to the culture.”

In April 2023, the culture tuned into Coachella with hope in their eyes and Wi-Fi strong enough to refresh Twitter every three seconds. Rumors of new music floated in the air. A “new era” was allegedly loading. What we got instead was a chaotic, half-hearted performance, a cancelled second weekend, and the now-familiar realization that expecting anything from Frank Ocean is a personal mistake you make over and over again.

Once upon a time, “underground” meant something. It meant: Do It Yourself. It meant rebellion. It meant going against the grain. It meant being yourself. It meant anti-corporate, raw, and uncompromising. But now? “Underground” is an A&R’s favorite word, a word they use to dilute our culture with mediocrity and talentless garbage!

Too many R&B albums pander to the worst of the bitter internet misandrist. Nowadays, R&B is often seen as the glorification of toxicity, emotional manipulation, dysfunction, unhealthy relationships, and mental instability. And somehow, nobody wants to address the elephant in the room!

Lil Uzi Vert has called himself a “Rockstar” so many times you’d think he invented the guitar, even though he can’t play one, can’t sell out a stadium, and can’t even pull off a proper world tour. The word ‘’Rockstar’’ has officially lost its meaning. That’s why the recent Wale vs. Ebro debate on Hot 97 shakes the culture like a reminder alarm: Is Lil Uzi Vert a rockstar, yes or no?

Pitchfork reviews music the same way narcissistic parents name their kids: with zero soul and way too much performance. These dimwits don’t review music. They chase moments. They are like a thirst-trapping influencer refreshing her notifications. They’re the escorts of music criticism: pay them enough, and suddenly your project is “important,” “genre-pushing,” and “redefining the conversation.”