With the recent rise to prominence of several young, reform-minded rap stars, many have bandied about predictions of a socially conscious hip-hop era. The likes of Frank Ocean and Macklemore have accrued mainstream followings while crafting winning albums that speak to a host of societal ills. But are these artists outliers, or are they truly indicative of an up-and-coming mass movement toward progressive rap?
In one of hip-hop’s biggest 2012 stories, R&B crooner Ocean revealed he had been in a same-sex relationship shortly before delivering his chart-topping, full-length studio debut, channel ORANGE. In an unprecedented move for the industry, which typically exhibits a rigid homophobia, Ocean’s peers rallied around him, expressing support for the rapper regardless of his orientation. And when his record dropped one week later, it included tracks that explored a variety of social problems. “Crack Rock” examines themes of crime and addiction while “Super Rich Kids” highlights the unfulfilling nature of wealth and plays on the 2008 recession. The remainder of channel ORANGE’s songs are peppered with references to Ocean’s first male love interest.
Macklemore, best known as the alternative clothing outlet-frequenting artist behind “Thrift Shop,” dispenses with the usual hip-hop bravado to deliver tracks decrying drug abuse (“Otherside”), homophobia (“Same Love”) and material excess (“Wing$,” the aforementioned “Thrift Shop”). On his latest release, 2012’s The Heist, he makes it abundantly clear he’s not interested in traditional rap ideals: “I am stuntin’ and flossin’ and savin’ my money/ and I’m hella happy.” Macklemore’s idea of happiness certainly differs from the manner of “stuntin’” relished by a majority of his industry peers.
However, the two are by no means the first artists to offer social commentary through hip-hop. They follow in the footsteps of rap legends such as Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. Their 1982 track “The Message” discusses the myriad issues of urban life and performed well on the charts, later becoming the first hip-hop song added to the United States’ National Recording Registry of historically significant sound recordings.
Popular artist Common has also experienced more than a decade of success while churning out a discography even the White House labeled “socially conscious.” Lupe Fiasco continues to top charts while pushing a positive agenda. In the mid-to-late 2000s, upbeat Hasidic Jewish rapper Matisyahu enjoyed moderate fame as one of hip-hop’s most surprising success stories.
It’s clear that some rappers have long been attempting to break free of industry stereotypes and pursue more uplifting messages, but negative hip-hop archetypes continue to prevail. In a culture in which glorifying “p—-, money, weed” (while the order may vary, the overall theme rarely does) is the norm, it seems nearly impossible to expect any sort of momentous change.
Just look at Grandmaster Flash. The Bronx MC refused to perform on “The Message,” the track that thrust conscious hip-hop into the spotlight. Though he and the titular Five all received credit for the song, only Melle Mel actually agreed to perform. The others cited disinterest in a track with a message so far removed from their typical work.
Even Ocean’s success fails to escape such scrutiny. The New Orleans native first breached obscurity with fellow members of the bizarre hip-hop collective Odd Future. The group’s other members, particularly frontrunner Tyler, the Creator, produce content that strikingly contrasts Ocean’s pensive, thought-provoking work. Lyrical depiction of brutal violence, homophobia and rape is par for the course for Odd Future. It’s far too easy to pigeonhole Ocean as “the inspiring gay guy” while ignoring who he chooses to collaborate with.
With every tentative step forward the rap industry takes, it seems to take at least one back. Current big names such as Rick Ross and Chief Keef have drawn fire for allegedly stirring up urban gun violence through their lyrical content and, at the very least, have been criticized for producing some of rap’s most inane tracks.
Overall, it would seem rappers hoping to make a difference must resign themselves to working within the established culture. Significant change in an industry that brought us the lyrics “You make my pee-pee go/ da-doing, doing, doing” (Eminem, “Ass Like That”) won’t come overnight or even in just a few years. But with the successful work of artists like Macklemore and Ocean, change is on the horizon. In the almost foreseeable future, rappers may be truly free to break from stereotypes and pursue social consciousness.