With sincere apologies to Maya Angelou, I’m starting to think when white “rapper” Post Malone showed us who he was, we should have believed him the first time. I place “rapper” in scare quotes, because Malone has been running away from hip-hop for the duration of his relatively brief career. He’s said he’s “not a rapper” even more often than this guy. The thing is, he’s kind of right. Though the industry, from Billboard to Apple to Spotify, classifies his music as rap, little in Post’s music other than its sluggishly syncopated rhythms or its trap synth hooks owes much to hip-hop: He croons more than he flows. He is essentially a rap-era singer-songwriter, largely devoid of bars and reliant upon infectious, endlessly cycling melodic hooks that make him the pop star for this moment. Two years into this aesthetic experiment, he’s getting rewarded for it, richly and repeatedly.
from Stories from Slate https://ift.tt/2tj4p63
0 comments:
Post a Comment