In 1993, the nascent phase of hip-hop’s ascent to the pinnacle of pop culture, producer Quincy Jones envisioned a magazine that would deliver the culture in all its attitude, panache, and vibrance to its young, urban demographic. He wanted it to be more inclusive than related, competing rap rags like The Source and XXL, but much more focused on rap and other urban demographics than Spin or Rolling Stone. Partnering with Time Inc. and co-founding editor Scott Poulson-Bryant, Jones brought Vibe into being to tap into the street-oriented and youth-focused new lifestyle, but being an outsider (and considerably older than his target demographic), he still needed the seal of approval from within hip-hop itself.
To that end, he brought in another partner: Up-and-coming mogul/manager Russell Simmons, of Def Jam fame to lend the endeavor that coveted street credibility. However, Simmons clashed with the first editor-in-chief, Jonathan Van Meter; to this day, he’ll deny it, but multiple sources cite his reticence to embrace Van Meter’s more urbane aesthetic, calling it “too fassy” for hip-hop — a West Indian derogatory slang term used to denounce something or someone as being effeminate, or seemingly gay. It’s similar in function to terms like “fruity,” “sweet,” or “suspect.” Simmons went on to found his own rap magazine, Oneworld, that only lasted for six issues before folding (I still have the Lil Kim and Dead Prez-covered issues somewhere at my mom’s crib). Vibe went on to become one of the most influential publications in hip-hop’s history.
In 2017, Complex Media Group, seeking to expand its interest in digital video while strengthening its position in modern hip-hop culture online, began broadcasting the Everyday Struggle show with hosts Joe Budden and DJ Akademiks. Half podcast, half talk show, the videos feature former rapper Budden and Akademiks discussing news and hot topics of the day, with the DJ providing a more moderate foil to the boisterous rapper’s more irreverent takes. On yesterday’s episode, the topics included Brooklyn rapper Desiigner’s standing in the rap world, whether or not Quavo would leave the group Migos for a solo career, and the ever-popular discussion of Kendrick Lamar’s album sales.
However, when the discussion turned to up-and-comer Lil Yachty and his recently revealed album cover for Teenage Emotions, Budden had some choice commentary for the red-braided young MC. While Akademiks expressed positive sentiments, Joe’s opinion was straightforward: “I don’t think that Yachty is hip-hop.” He further went on to express his disdain for Yachty’s label, Capitol Records, stated that Yachty looked “fruity,” and that Yachty is “ruining the culture.” Budden especially took issue with Yachty’s album cover, which features a number of colorfully attired young people, many of whom do not look stereotypically “hip-hop,” especially a pair of young men in the upper left corner kissing. His reasoning for the prominence of the gay couple on the cover is that it’s a publicity stunt, just “shock value,” to gain the support of “the gay community,” ending his tirade with the declaration, “I want to come out the closet, so I can be embraced (too).”
Now, we’re not going to throw insults. I’m not here to shade Joe Budden or Complex Media Group, or anybody. There’s the disclaimer. We might put this in bold, just for those folks who are going to read nothing more than the headline before storming the comments section like White Walkers on the march. Nobody is making any moral judgments on anyone involved with Everyday Struggle, and Joe Budden is entitled to his opinion, just like anyone else on the internet. But, having said that, Joe Budden is dead wrong, and if it were possible for any culture or genre of music to be “ruined,” attitudes like this are far more toxic to that culture than a thousand Lil Yachties.
Here’s why: In short, any subculture or social movement that does not evolve with the times will die. It’s plain to see in practically any rap act that did not ever embrace its own mortality and the transience of the world around it, that group is gone today. It’s nature; organisms adapt to their surroundings and the ones best suited to the environment are the ones that survive. There are numerous examples throughout hip-hop (and any genre, really, but let’s stay focused here): Nas, Snoop Dogg, Jay Z, Bun B, Busta Rhymes, Common, and A Tribe Called Quest have all shown that a willingness to expand, to grow, to be flexible, to learn to ride new waves can be immensely beneficial to a rap career. All respect due, but has anyone seen KRS-One lately? Where is Onyx, where is Kool Moe Dee, Kane, Rakim? Lord Jamar went from the respect and accolades that came from being a member Brand Nubian to a stone-throwing crank on Twitter. These guys are legends, but their stubborn refusal to accept anything that didn’t look like their conception of hip-hop has turned them into dinosaurs, outcast from the culture they helped originate, build, and lead from basement parties in the projects to garden parties at the White House.
Take a look at an old photo of Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five in full disco regalia. Compare that with N.W.A. in 1989 in their all black baseball jackets and 501s jeans, scowling beneath their Raiders caps and juice-dripping jheri curls. Now compare both to the mafioso looks embraced by a nineties-era Jay Z; compare that version of Jay to the buttoned-up model that proclaimed “I don’t wear jerseys, I’m thirty-plus.” Then compare all of those to modern rappers like Young Thug, Travis Scott, Lil’ Uzi Vert, and yes, Lil Yachty. From the outside looking in, there’s no aesthetic trend to tie any of these disparate performers and eras together, yet from the inside, we know.