the soundtrack to the recession
Like most gen-z kids, I was too young to understand the 2008 recession when it happened. We sort of grew into it naturally. Much like 9/11, Katrina, and Iraq and Afghanistan, the housing market crisis was one of many pivotal moments of the new century that changed the world for good. This pandemic is no different. The Congressional Budget Office predicts the unemployment rate to hit 16% this summer. For perspective, the unemployment rate peaked at 10% after the 2008 housing crisis, and 25% after the Great Depression. But unlike our previous economic downturns, we can’t spend our cash on entertainment outside of the house— our money isn’t circulating. So what does it mean when we find our society at a standstill in this era of hyper-consuming media? When the world stops moving, will art continue to make leaps and bounds? What does a pandemic-induced economic crisis mean for music? What will be our soundtrack to the recession?
The Pop Landscape
In times of uncertainty, we look for familiarity. Old tour merch, your highschool yearbook, Snapchat memories (an app that has no business being on your phone). Music is no different.
Just this March we saw pop heavyweights Dua Lipa and The Weeknd release their albums, both borrowing from the signature synthy pop sound of the 80’s. April saw British newcomer, Rina Sawayama drop her sophomore effort Sawayama which much like her debut drew comparisons to the colorful and brash sounds of the 90s. Pop has always been a safe contender. Despite the creative risks its trailblazers take, it has to be recognizable to the touch for an audience. It makes sense for artists to look to the past to build their sonic footprint, and we can only expect this trend to continue.
The Future of Hip-Hop
But hip-hop doesn’t follow the pop playbook, after all, it’s a young man’s sport. The genre has never been afraid of treading into unfamiliar territory, which makes it the perfect time capsule for capturing the zeitgeist. A look at the albums that came out around the 2008 housing crisis is proof of this: Kanye’s 808s and Heartbreaks, Drake’s So Far Gone, Kid Cudi’s Man on The Moon, Gucci Mane’s The State vs Radric Davis. The moody, introspective, isolating, and genre-bending rap that came out of that era was a reflection of the political and cultural moment. It also cues us into what we can expect in our near future.
Blues
The brash, hedonistic, and celebratory Obama-era rap is over. We’re past the henny-sippin’ Kanye golden era and the Migos leading the Atlanta renaissance, and as we near a somewhat inevitable second Trump term, the genre is only looking to grow more thematically pessimistic. Wealth no longer correlates to happiness, and in a time of post-woke racial and class consciousness, even the greats will realize the American dream is dead.
“Starin' at the candle
Feel the pain on me, nigga, it don't matter
Get my currency exchanged, got my bands up”- Future, “Tycoon”
With newcomers like Rod Wave, Roddy Ricch, and Don Toliver, who are essentially the freshman class of new age blues musicians, we can expect their signature bellowing and crooning to set the stage for a new decade marked by self-isolation and political turmoil. In a time where we’re losing loved ones we can’t even visit, there’s only going to be more pain and soul.
Scammer Rap
When Detroit natives Teejayx6 and Kasher Quon broke the internet with their distinct flows and cartoonish one-liners about their scamming escapades, it opened up listeners to a scene that had been existing for a long while. The city had already been home to local acts like Bossman Rich who popularized the fast-paced, punchy, and animated style of rap which spoke in visceral detail about bitcoin and cheating everyone you knew out of their money. Scamming, in turn, became the new drug dealing. In the ears of a listener, it was a newer, sexier hustle in an era of surveillance whose story-telling seemed more relevant and kept you on the edge of your seat bar after bar. In 2020, anyone can sell drugs, but not everyone can scam.
“Told Tron “teach me how to swipe, I can’t work a bin”
But shit, if she got the money I’ll serve my grams”- Babytron, “Pro Surfers”
The Decline of Atlanta/The Rise of New York
The 2010s was the decade of Atlanta. With the original vanguard of Future, the Migos, Young Thug and successively Playboi Carti, Gunna, Lil Baby and Thug’s many other YSL signees and affiliates, the city had cemented itself as not just a rap heavyweight, but as a rap mecca. The birthplace of trap music (praises due to TI and Gucci Mane especially), it pushed every imaginable boundary for the genre while still maintaining its commercial appeal. But much like the Bling era of the ’00s, trap has passed its peak and exhausted itself. As the city’s newer artists (Lil Keed and Lil Gotit most notably) create much more subdued music, trap is slowly but surely phasing out of the Billboard charts. And in the year where all clubs will be closed for the summer, it no longer has a place at the function.
The new decade has seen a rebirth in New York’s talent, with the late Pop Smoke, Fivio Foreign, Sheff G, and 22gz popularizing the city’s new drill sound. From the genre’s humble rise in Chicago, it circled around the globe making its rounds in Europe before finding its new home in New York. The sound is recognized internationally, but it wasn’t until it came to the East Coast that it re-entered our mainstream. Perhaps it's New York’s grittiness, unmistakable charisma, and effortless chemistry with the genre that made it much more digestible and exciting for the average listener (truth be told, the average American rap fan doesn’t wanna hear a British accent). With a crop of young talent and a refreshing sound, the birthplace of hip-hop is looking to soon eclipse the South and establish its prominence again.
Tik-Tok: Bringing Back Dance
The Chinese video-sharing app has got social media in a death grip. Any of your friends that are younger than 27 have probably made a few already, and it's no surprise, Tik-Tok has brought the fun back into music. Anyone can hop on the app, make their own routine, and upload it. It’s music without pretension— a way to have fun with the whole family. Since last year the app blew up Don Toliver’s, “No Idea” single, reintroduced K Camp back into the conversation, made “Say So” platinum, and has everyone doing cheerleader moves to Megan Thee Stallion. It’s no question that the app is a rave marketing tool—even Drake hopped on the bandwagon and got “Toosie Slide” to #1 by putting the choreography in the lyrics. With artists recognizing the value of virality while we’re all at home, making a song that’s Tik-Tok worthy is probably the smartest business decision you can make at the moment. It opens the floor to a bigger conversation on what kind of music will it introduce. We might find ourselves seeing crunk, Jersey club, New Orleans bounce all find their way on the app to a young and receptive user base looking for something new to dance to.