Despite its popular status, trap rap is maligned and misrepresented by fans and critics alike. Whether it pertains to its pop stardom, eschewing the “intelligible” delivery of vocals—hence pejoratives terms like “mumble rap”—or moral condemnations of lyrical content, the genre has suffered substantial pushback from a variety of angles, relegating its artistic merits to the margins of the hip-hop canon. However, a closer examination of trap can reframe the important contributions it has made to popular music, uplifting innovations beyond praise of the style’s catchy, addictive nature.
Musically, trap is largely defined by its bassy low end, speedy hi-hats, electronic production, melodicism and triplet rhyming flow. My first introduction to the mockery of trap was a soundbite from “Lifestyle” by Rich Gang, specifically that of Young Thug’s chorus. As evidenced by comments left on its YouTube music video, listeners found humor in Thug’s slurred, somewhat indecipherable vocals; they were juxtaposed against hip-hop’s reputation as a poetic style focused on vocal clarity, virtuosity and rhyming ability. While Thug can be understood as prioritizing melody and emotional communication, many chose to deride his delivery as being simply lazy or inept. This attack built upon memes which circulated around this time period, such as one claiming Tupac started the “book of rap,” Eminem finished it and Lil Wayne “couldn’t figure out how to read it.” The attack likely stems from Wayne’s heavy use of autotune and often-garbled voice which, according to XXL, helped lay the groundwork for later trap artists. This line of critique is misguided, however, especially as Wayne’s rapping ability and clever wordplay are showcased on tracks like “6 Foot 7 Foot.” Why is his reputation trashed despite frequently upholding the meme creators’ aesthetic preferences?
The genre’s geographic origins may hint toward the reason for this alienation. Emerging from the Southern United States (Atlanta, Georgia, in particular), the style’s inception occurred separately from East and West coast scenes, pre-established centers of hip-hop during the 1990s. Unlike rappers such as Nas, Tupac and The Notorious B.I.G. being praised for their analysis of urbanity, the discussion of drug use, trauma or violence by trap artists is often flatly interpreted as the glorification of vice. That is not to say the aforementioned artists historically emerged unscathed from similar concerns; rather, I believe their contributions to hip-hop are praised differently from those of trap musicians. Retroactively, artists like Tupac belong to a lineage of appreciated innovators who define the genre’s aesthetic priorities through their talented rapping and rhyming skills. As trap style evolved into the 2010s, its lack of articulate enunciation became increasingly pronounced, diverging from approaches which originally earned hip-hop its critical appreciation. With parallels to “high art” like poetry becoming obscured by artists’ lack of vocal clarity, a distinctive place for rap among the most revered music of all time grew limited. Trap’s decentering of individual words’ understability subverts a core tenet of hip-hop’s musical technique, shifting primacy toward melodic delivery; in this regard, the prominent use of autotune by someone like Lil Wayne should be understood as a musical instrument rather than something which undermines “authentic” performance.
Unlike being viewed as eloquent chroniclers with meaningful bars like their predecessors, trap rappers’ hit-making abilities are cast aside as derivative or thoughtless. Whereas distinct, indecipherable or otherwise subversive vocals are regarded as being “avant-garde” and “challenging” in other genres, trap rappers are critiqued by their peers and forefathers for sounding “mumbly.” Even as they incorporate a broader range of the human voice’s expressive capacities into their sound, trap rappers are seen as degrading hip-hop’s core principles rather than pushing the genre’s discursive limits into new territory. Given that contemporary pop rap is largely trap-influenced and engages fans across the globe in sold-out shows, the genre’s monetary success tends to define the discourses in which it is analyzed. The sound is relegated to a role of near-ubiquitous party music; it is fun and widely appealing, but supposedly never “deep” or important in the way that Wu-Tang Clan can be. By dismissing trap in this manner, its stylistic innovations and provocative rethinking of rap’s essential features will go ignored; to challenge this, I want to highlight some of trap’s best offerings from the past 15 years.
Future’s “Codeine Crazy” immediately comes to mind as an evocative example of introspective trap; he navigates drug use over a chilling beat, admitting, “I’m an addict and I can’t even hide it.” Although this relatively pared-down instrumental enables Future’s voice to shine, he also demonstrates technical chops by effortlessly flowing over the intricate, synth-heavy backing of “March Madness.” An example similar to the reflection of “Codeine Crazy” is found on Lucki’s downtrodden “More Than Ever,” a mumbly, moody examination of his questionable love life; summarily, he acknowledges, “I know she ain’t loyal, but she make me better.” On “Ape Shit” by Chief Keef, the listener is presented with another impressive display of production prowess. In a bizarrely compelling manner, Keef hacks, coughs and stammers over the introduction, a densely layered beat which relies upon detailed drum programming. Other innovative approaches to the instrumentation of hip-hop include the works of Black Kray; his use of distorted samples on “HYDR6C0DON$” is unlike anything I have ever heard, a uniqueness which is applicable to the hazy, thin sound of “Iced out Castles.” Swedish collective Drain Gang similarly represents the global scale of the genre’s creative imagination. A highlight is Bladee’s experimental song “My Magic Is Strong,” employing extreme low-end and echoey reverb which washes over the audience in psychedelic waves of sound.
Vocally, rappers like Young Thug and Slump6s expand rap’s melodic directions, deliberately employing autotune to produce a distinct, voiced aesthetic on “Digits” and “Moment” respectively. Their words are difficult to identify, a slipperiness which challenges traditional means of “reading” or interpreting hip-hop; as a result, their voices produce something which is stirring beyond the mere content of language. Likewise, Playboi Carti’s distinctive “baby voice” delivery and excessive adlibs demonstrate another effort to rework the oral strictures of hip-hop. Again, this is not to say trap excludes the use of technical vocal capabilities. Tracks like Gunna and Lil Baby’s “Drip Too Hard” or Destroy Lonely’s “JETLGGD” are surprisingly hard to sing along with, and Denzel Curry’s concept album “TA13OO” features its fair share of thought-provoking rhymes. At the end of the day, even established superstars like Lil Uzi and Travis Scott should receive credit for their ability to produce influential earworms, highly representative of the 2010s’ musical cultural moment.
An appreciation of this creativity can open new avenues for one’s interest in rap and reorient perspectives on popular culture more broadly. The next time you consider rejecting trap’s artistry or feigning dejection at your enjoyment of it, take a moment to recontextualize its musical approaches in this new light.
Check out the playlist below for some of the genre’s highlights: