Like in a soap opera, you skip an episode and lose track of the story. Over the past month, two of the most successful hip-hop artists in recent memory, Kendrick Lamar and Drake, have been embroiled in a rap feud that reached new heights over the weekend when Lamar released “Meet the Grahams” and “not like us“, and Drake blurted out “The heart part 6.”
The conflict could be the most newsworthy musical event of the first half of 2024, as both MCs expressed strong opinions about each other on diss tracks, leading to side arguments fueled by hives of fans, trolls, opinion articles and social media threads. And while the early exchanges may have only slightly piqued the interest of some listeners, the stakes rose following the release of “Euphoria” Last Tuesday. At that point, the issue became something bigger, evolving (or devolving) from standard rap material into stormier waters. This includes accusations and exchanges about serious topics: racial authenticity, domestic violence, illegitimate paternity , moral stances, grooming, hypocrisy, colorism and even colonialism.
The conflict is now mature enough to warrant further reflection. Specifically, an examination of what this dispute tells us about the marriage between hip-hop, conflict, and online culture.
No advertising campaign can generate the anticipation that rap generates, sometimes out of nowhere. Whether we enjoy it or not, we all look forward to the next iteration. Through Drake and Kendrick Lamar, we are reminded of how quickly public disputes can capture attention and the many ways in which the ecology of digital space in 2024 may determine how these conflicts occur.
On the one hand, artists Now you control the timing and pace of your throws. Unlike in years past, when popular DJs often included distortion songs on radio sets, today artists can select the release of these tracks and direct them directly to listeners through platforms such as YouTube, Instagram and X/Twitter.
Second, the war on truth in the age of disinformation makes fact-checking irrelevant; Anything someone accuses another artist of in a song can be true or false. Whether we believe it or not is primarily a matter of whether we want to believe it, whether the message aligns with our pre-existing opinions. And while dubious accusations have always been true in meat raps, the speed with which falsehoods can spread today makes it easier for absurd claims to take on a life of their own.
Finally, there is the specter of fake songs, generated by artificial intelligence. This causes us to double-check before clicking on a link, as we rush to debate the authenticity of what we’re about to hear. Saying someone employed ghostwriters used to be the most damning accusation in hip-hop. Nowadays there are many more ways to make up a song and fewer ways to differentiate between us and robots. This specifically came to light in April when Drake released “Taylor Made Freestyle,” a song that apparently used an AI-generated version of Tupac Shakur’s voice. (The rapper removed the song after Shakur’s heirs sent a cease and desist.)
Battle rap, whether in the form of in-person confrontations or through diss tracks, has always been one of hip-hop’s iconic sports, defined by banter between artists, often, but not necessarily, derogatory in tone. . It has roots in “the dozens” and related relics in African American culture that thrive on spontaneity, humor, and wit (often at the expense of others). So while “fighting” can be done strictly for the sake of competition, “beef” requires a certain degree of personal animosity between the parties. What’s happening in 2024, when artists like Drake and Lamar trade bars via IG posts and YouTube clips, and their fans debate the merits on social media, marks a new era of rap.
Even this summary has a certain topical bias: competitive poetry It existed in parts of the world centuries before hip-hop. However, there is something special about how conflicts occur in hip-hop: Beef has fueled some of the most popular songs ever created and has been linked to real-world violence. It’s a topic that hip-hop reflects on for small periods (often after the loss of a popular figure, such as after the deaths of Shakur and Notorious BIG in the mid-’90s), after which it returns to normal: rappers A. and B exchange taunts, perhaps several times. Sometimes a winner is declared. Sometimes it doesn’t matter. Sometimes there is violence; Sometimes there’s a formal peace process, like when Jay-Z and Nas broke up their fight onstage during a show in 2005. Often, there’s widespread attention: rinse, rap, repeat. In the digital world, the cycle moves at the speed of a click.
