No Bad Sound Studios was established in 2007 as an initiative of the Maison des Jeunes Côte-des-Neiges. It aims to help local youth develop their music by providing a place to meet and offering workshops for singing, songwriting, rapping, beatboxing, music production, DJing, and performance skills. The studio presented this evening of anti-colonial hip hop in collaboration with grassroots radical media project Reclaim Turtle Island, which defends Indigenous land from resource extraction. Amanda Lickers, an organizer from Reclaim who put the evening together, highlighted these issues in her opening speech, stating, “There’s one [problem] called Line 9 that’s about to start spewing genocide in Turtle Island.”

The four performances – vocalist trio Strange Froots, instrumentalist Lido Pimienta, rapper Alas, and powerhouse headliners Shining Soul – kept with this political theme in varying degrees, from Strange Froots’ mostly unpolitical lyrics to Alas’ proudly anti-governmental anthems (she consistently referred to Canada as “Ku Klux Klanada”). Somewhere along this spectrum was Shining Soul, who placed equal emphasis on their music’s artistry and message. During their performance, Emcee Liaison of Shining Soul connected politics to his personal life by telling the crowd about the colonized land of the Tohono O’odham (translated as “People of the Desert”). The U.S.-Mexico border runs directly through the land of the Tohono O’odham, a physical illustration of how disruptive colonial endeavours have been to Indigenous communities. “Our [community’s] stories are still intact,” Liaison said, “but that push to resist is drowned out by these cities, by this concrete.”

While colonial oppression was the main topic of the evening, the artists also addressed other forms of oppression: Shining Soul member Bronze Candidate spoke about his goal to “face oppressive institutions such as patriarchy,” and Lido’s third song was dedicated to her friend “whose parents don’t like him being gay.”

In addition to their varying levels of political expression, the artists also demonstrated diversity in hip hop, pushing the genre to its limits. Strange Froots sounded like a soul/pop fusion experiment by Kid Cudi enthusiasts, and Pimienta was a roller coaster of drums and bass with a characteristic hip hop sensibility. Neither act would be considered traditional hip hop, but these artists clearly grew up in the hip hop generation. Froots lacked the aggressive edge shared by the other artists, but the trio was invited back onstage by Pimienta for a few minutes of improvisation. Their collaboration produced a fuller, more nuanced sound than any performer achieved on their own.

Alas brought a sound more typical of rap – for one thing, she actually rapped. The artist addressed topics such as land defence, staying true to one’s roots, and police brutality in an expansive and assertive voice. Her passion and hard-hitting (though somewhat cliché) beat, engaged the crowd, fostering a sense of political frustration and even anger, but also maintaining a strong sense of community. Members of the audience were united in their shared convictions.
Shining Soul, a duo from Arizona comprising Bronze Candidate and Emcee Liaison, was the most traditional hip hop performance of the night, featuring mid-nineties-style lyricism and sample-based beats. They were also the musical highlight; there was a confidence and familiarity in their performance that quickly gained the audience’s trust.

As mainstream hip hop strays further from its political beginnings, No Bad Sound’s night of anti-colonial hip hop was a lesson in how to merge art and politics meaningfully. Though the performances were not all explicitly political, the coming together of these artists as a community, framed by the message of Reclaim Turtle Island, was a political act. Even the lineup itself stayed true to the event’s mandate: No Bad Sound featured a female majority onstage and in the crowd, the result of a deliberate effort by Lickers. After all, as PassionFroot of Strange Froots explained after the show, “Hip hop was made by oppressed people for oppressed people.” Through distinct yet cohesive voices, these artists conveyed the notion that to protect anyone, you must protect everyone.

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Remember they used to thump, but now they blast, right?”

– Dr. Dre, “Lil’ Ghetto Boy”

Hip hop is about change – staying fresh, if you will – producing and reflecting the changes in society. Rap, hip hop’s most celebrated outlet, has evolved from poets in the park to multimillion dollar deals and global recognition. (For more information, listen to “I Used to Love H.E.R.” by Common.) Rap has exploded into the commercial spheres of entertainment and in 2013, just about four decades since the “birth of hip hop,” rap’s consumer base has undergone a similar evolution. Listeners have always demanded a wide spectrum of style and content from rappers, but as in any genre, tastes change. Today, for example, the long shadow of 1990s gangsta rap that once dominated the charts has dissipated. Instead, mainstream listeners have come to prefer either emotionally vulnerable lyrics or energizing club-beats.

One Monday night this summer, my Twitter newsfeed exploded after Kendrick Lamar’s “Control” verse reached the internet. In this verse, Lamar mentions the few artists whom he believes to be at the forefront of rap in 2013: J. Cole, Big K.R.I.T., Wale, Pusha T, Meek Mill, A$AP Rocky, Drake, Big Sean, Jay Electronica, Tyler, the Creator, and Mac Miller.

Lamarís list mirrors societyís musical preferences. After all, how is relevancy measured but by popular opinion? These artists together are the face of rap today. They are undeniably talented (though a case can be made against Meek Mill), and their music can be separated into two groups: heartfelt and catchy in a smooth way, or upbeat, with production designed for clubs.

This listing, as well as the verse itself, caused an incredible amount of controversy in the hip hop community and provoked numerous responses from other rappers.

One of the first artists to respond was Joell Ortiz, a member of the group Slaughterhouse. Ortiz was offended that Lamar did not acknowledge his group as an important force in rap. All four members of Slaughterhouse exemplify the more aggressive, hard-hitting styles that are losing favour.

The ability to adapt and remain relevant despite rap’s constantly shifting trends is part of what makes a rapper great. For example, Eminem, Nas, and Jay Z – arguably the three greatest living rappers – have all consistently developed their craft from album to album to keep up with the times.

Two other artists, Tech N9ne and Joe Budden, have also displayed significant growth throughout their careers, but they have not been as well-received by the public. Tech N9ne and Joe Budden, though different in almost every way, are similar in that they go hard. (Budden is a member of the aforementioned Slaughterhouse, and Tech N9ne is one of the most complex, animated lyricists in rap history.) Tech and Budden have both released catchy, party-appropriate music (e.g., “N.B.A. Ft. Wiz Khalifa and French Montana” and “Pump It Up” by Joe Budden and “Caribou Lou” and “Fuck Food Ft. Lil Wayne, T-Pain, and Krizz Kaliko” by Tech N9ne); however, their styles are built upon a hardcore base that not as many of today’s listeners are interested in.

Ten years ago, 50 Cent had just debuted with Get Rich or Die Tryin’. His album was riddled with the sounds of gunshots and “gangster” lyrics. Snoop was still Dogg, not Lion; in other words, he had not yet become a self-proclaimed reincarnation, distanced from the gangster life. Jay Z (we all believed) was peaking and ready to retire, but still managed to include disses toward fellow rappers on The Blueprint 2: The Gift & The Curse. This year’s Black Entertainment Television (BET) Awards winner for “best male hip hop artist,” Kendrick Lamar, did speak on issues surrounding “gangster” lifestyles on good kid, m.A.A.d. city, but he did so as a storyteller rather than a shooter, and aimed to expose the negative sides of such lifestyles rather than to claim them as his own.

This year’s BET nominees for “best male hip hop artist” were Kendrick Lamar, 2 Chainz, A$AP Rocky, Drake, and Future. Ten years ago the nominees were 50 Cent, Baby, Eminem, Jay Z, Nelly, and Snoop Dogg (with 50 Cent winning the award). Although there are the outliers – Nelly has a very distinct style and is therefore difficult to compare with others, and Baby’s nomination was a precursor for the rise of the Young Money/Cash Money Records label – the changes within this decade are evidence that rap listeners are turning away from harder styles of rap.

Shifting trends in rap can focus the public eye on artists whose talents deserve recognition. That often means taking the spotlight away from an equally gifted rapper with less-of-the-moment style to make room. This is not to say that one type of rap is better than another. But things done changed on this side, and they will keep changing. Perhaps producers will veer away from today’s electronic-heavy composition and return to soul samples. Perhaps radio stations will begin playing Wu-Tang Clan again. Perhaps Dr. Dre will finally release Detox and leave another mark on the sounds of hip hop.

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