KIDS IN AMERICA:
THE YEAR IN HIP-HOP

With streaming an entrenched part of the lifestyle in two demographically huge youth generations, hip-hop culture is the real heartbeat of the kids in America, firmly expanding its reign as the most dominant force in music—particularly within the digital realm of streaming. But what’s even more apparent is that hip-hop music and its leaders are setting the tone for American culture overall, with some important figures truly rising to the occasion during a critical time, when diversity itself is under siege in this country.

Since the realm of new music is overwhelmingly ruled by young people who are passionately assembling the soundtracks of their lives—like previous generations have done during their pre-teen and teenage years—it inherently reveals exactly where American culture is. When you drill down just a teeny bit into the demographics, the sustained wave of hip-hop dominance is a no-brainer.

Our ethnic landscape is truly changing as a nation, with the younger generation much more diverse than those of their parents and grandparents. Millennials and Gen-Z now compromise 48% of the total available media audience. Gen-Z, defined as people born between 1997-2015, now makes up the single largest audience segment at 26% (compared to 22% Millennials, 20% Gen X and 24% Baby Boomers), with the oldest of them now 20 years old. The oldest Millennials on the other hand, are now 37 years old, despite this persistent perception from grown folks that they are all somehow still bratty kids. So who is on the way? Let’s call them Generation Z-Plus, which will become the first minority white population in the U.S. at 49%, while 26% are Latin, 13% African-American, 5% Asian and nearly 5% biracial—a landmark number.

It’s not the dominance of hip-hop that has made the genre so extraordinary this year, however, but the ways in which our leading voices of the culture are choosing to write, rap and respond within the glare of that spotlight.

A glowing example is Kendrick Lamar’s expertly curated Black Panther soundtrack—a companion piece inspired by the biggest box-office hit of the year, which was itself a profound artistic achievement in both execution and worldwide appeal. Lamar is one of the most eloquent truth-bearers of our time, a Pulitzer-recognized writer. He did not let up for one second with this effort—purely valiant considering the corporate universe Marvel exists in—by offering a blistering challenge in the opening track of the record, rapping, “What do you stand for? Are you a activist? What are your city plans for? Are you a accident? Are you just in the way?”

These times are too critical to stand on the sidelines, and triumphantly, a majority of our most talented members of this genre did not shy away from confronting the critical issues of today.

As Childish Gambino, Donald Glover delivered a scathing critique with “This Is America” —and to ensure that we would listen closely to the song, he came with a powerfully disruptive video that would ensure no one would ever forget it. “It’s never really a question of ‘Who is it for?’ because you’re not really in control of that,” Glover explained, “but I think it’s always a question of who I am.”

Janelle Monáe stood up for the entire queer community with Dirty Computer, a masterfully composed, future-forward R&B record rooted in rebellion and black feminism—not just a brave gesture on the artist’s part, but a revolutionary one. “The concept itself is centered around what it means to have an oppressed people have their very existence erased,” Monáe said of her artistic motivations.

These times are too critical to stand on the sidelines,
and triumphantly, a majority of our most talented members
of this genre did not shy away from confronting
the critical issues of today.

Lyrical pillars J. Cole and Eminem stood in strength and conviction with their albums, K.O.D. and Kamikaze, respectively, even when the elder MCs both got some outsized pushback from the same young generation they were expressing concerns about. Cole in particular was echoing similar themes laid down a year earlier by Jay Z in 4:44, as he inserted critical knowledge on wealth management and marriage dynamics inside killer-crafted bars. But “1985 (Into the Fall Off)” was more of a dire warning to youth about the context of their blackness as it relates to their occupation; “But have you ever thought about your impact?” Cole asked. “These white kids love that you don’t give a fuck, ’cause that’s exactly what’s expected when your skin black.” Eminem, meanwhile, kept it 100 about how much he doesn’t relate to the new generation of rappers by emulating Migos’ flow on their breakthrough hit, “Bad & Boujee,” on his track “Not Alike,” stating bluntly, “Train wrecks, sidewalks, Payless, high-tops, K-Fed, IHOP, Playtex, icebox… That’s how much we have in common.”

For a genre with a long history of macho posturing, however, hip-hop took an inward, emotional turn this year for sure, one that tilted toward sadness and depression. Before his untimely death, XXXTentacion connected and bonded with a gigantic online fanbase by expressing deep loneliness on songs like “SAD!”—one of the biggest streaming hits of 2018. And perhaps the most triumphant, impactful confessions came from Kid Cudi in Kids See Ghosts, his brilliant collaborative project with Kanye West, because it genuinely started a whole conversation in the culture about the topic of depression, one that was newly discussed through a lens of hope and rehabilitation rather than denial and doom. “I’m so—I’m so reborn, I’m moving forward, keep moving forward, keep moving forward,” Cudi eloquently sang on “Reborn,” a mantra of self that the very private artist shared with the world, which was in itself heartwarming.

And finally, Drake. The Scorpion king, a masterful technician of hip-hop and R&B, served up a full side of both on his 25-track double album this year, the first project ever to be streamed a billion times in its first week, with the single “God’s Plan” racking up over a billion streams on its own. The bottom line about this artist is how fantastically he embodies the Stan Lee/Spider-Man life-wisdom credo, “With great power comes great responsibility.” He could not have demonstrated that more deftly than he did after Pusha T’s brutal attack in “Story of Adidon.” The fact that we don’t even talk about this anymore is a testament to Aubrey Graham’s restraint, which shifted the conversation back from an L to a W. To genuinely recognize your influence and the consequences attached, and then honor it by adjusting respectfully—in the face of an entire Internet troll army—is not only mature; it’s positively ascended, and remains one of the genre’s best moments of the year. Long live the King.