Lil Yachty, getting a rise out of older New Yorker men: a tradition that is widely discussed, and by now, moderately pretentious. First, there was the uproar over him not knowing any of The Notorious B.I.G. or 2Pac’s music, something that he admitted to when he first emerged a little more than ten years ago. It was in that era where he would begin to say that he did not classify himself as a rapper; it was in that era when “Minnesota,” one of his first sugary hooks, came to be an example of exuberant youthfulness.
It would be a recurring theme: Yachty saying something that got old school New Yorkers shaking their heads in frothing anger; Yachty making music that was immensely catchy, allowing his words to die on the vine as opposed to ringing in an old man’s ears. Here he was, a Miley Cyrus in rap -— as The Ringer’s Justin Charity likes to say —- spewing a type of carefree mystique that flew from his pink braids all the way to the ears of the grown and grumpy.
Yachty, now 27, is no longer a member of the youth. In hip-hop years, he is now in what should be the prime of his career. He’s made some noise in the 2020s so far, jumping on different scenes and becoming adventurous in them, while maintaining the overwhelming positivity that he has as an artist. Michigan Boat Boy helped legitimatize the Detroit sound to the masses, although Yachty’s lyricism pales in comparison to the hot steel of the Detroit rappers he rhymed with.
Then, came the snippet-as-song, “Poland”, perhaps the finest moment of his career so far. Anyone who thought Yachty was an alien sent by a corny executive who wanted to commercialize the game had to eat crow when “Poland” came out; the song was, and remains, a sincere disruption, weirder than any of the Super Mario maximalism he made when he first came on the scene.
Sometimes, Yachty’s minor successes will lead to excitement, as if he is turning the corner and becoming the acclaimed star that he always had the potential to be. But, whenever he decides that people are zigging to his tune, he zags, only to make people more frustrated. Let’s Start Here was, in the eyes of many hip-hop fans, a misstep in the form of a zag, the kind of record that doesn’t have lasting power and only exists to make white people think you are well-rounded.
Why is Yachty never comfortable in one mode? Why does he always seem to be leaving traditional hip-hop, as opposed to making the world of hip-hop deeper and bigger? Maybe it is because he still harbors feelings of annoyance at the old men who once questioned his masculinity and rap skills. Despite being a decade old, those uncomfortable conversations might still be on Yachty’s mind. Many contemporary rappers are addicted to being considered “artists” and not rappers because they think it sounds more chic; more artistic. Calling yourself an artist that is above hip-hop is a baptism of sorts, for the fashion runways and the creative control that rappers from a post-Kanye West world tend to crave.
It confuses me on why that phrase is a thing. Hip-hop is fashion. So, when rappers say they are artists and not just rappers, all it seems like is they’re craving a certain white freedom, as opposed to giving hip-hop — the Blackest innovation of the past fifty years of American life — its credit for being fashion’s greatest collaborator. But, when Yachty collaborates with North Carolina rapper J. Cole, it feels more openly honest than when he does an album with James Blake. (He also has a collaboration with the white rapper sensation Ian, and Ian washes him, as sad as it is to admit).
Yachty’s career can’t always be pinned down by critics and fans. He’s not the subversive auteur or daring vocalist that Playboi Carti is; he’s not the hook machine that Gunna is; he’s not the rapper that Young Thug or even Kodak Black is. His biggest skill is being the adventurer-in-chief, the inspiration to do more. In a piece, I once said “he was free from class-consciousness; he’s a pink-braided wonder.” The PR battles he won came from his vibes, his vitality got people out of their comfort zones. He wants to be all things for everyone. Maybe that prevents his music from being as focused as you’d like it to be. Sometimes, his life seems delightful: he is often out in public in the downtown scene, enjoying life as if he was a regular person, not someone who would star in Nautica commercials. But that downplays how famous he is.
Before, Yachty was winning all of the public relations battles, now he’s seemingly in the news much more than he needs to be. Comments from his podcast A Safe Place went viral last week, as Yachty mentioned that he thought that New York was behind in fashion, and that The Bronx and Queens are behind Manhattan; a straight up lie, in relation to the Bronx and Manhattan. “I don’t think there’s sh*t goin’ on when it comes to New York fashion,” is what he said in full. (Twitter people noted that this is odd, because Yachty sometimes dresses like a New Yorker).
The podcast made me wonder about Yachty’s complicated relationship with New York. There’s been foul play on both sides, but last week was Yachty escalating for fun, not any reason other than wanting to stir an imaginary pot. Then, he mentioned that Drake was not affected by the Kendrick Lamar beef. It’s nice that Drake has someone in the industry that did not join Kendrick’s team of disgruntled co-workers, but it’s not in Yachty’s interest to deliver Drake’s messages for him. There’s also been trouble brewing within his own collective: while confirming, or announcing, that Karrahboo was leaving Concrete Boys on Instagram Live, he looked insincere, looking elsewhere while speaking. Who knows why she left? Industry politics are often messy, but it reflected oddly on Yachty.
To see Yachty is to see someone who will never conform to the expectations of Black culture, or even white people. One can consider him a reactive artist, someone who will change his tune immediately after playing something that the audience stood up and clapped for. With his tour coming up in September, it begs to wonder what his follow-up to Bad Cameo will be. This could be a legacy-defining time for Yachty, as he is now coming up on ten years in the rap game. It’s rare that a career lasts that long to begin with, a testament to Yachty’s resourcefulness. But, he’s getting older: people want more from him. He’s no longer just the kid arguing with Ebro.