Revisiting Lil Wayne’s rock album: Why don’t we let Black artists experiment?
The crossover from country, rock, and other stereotypically ‘white’ genres into mainstream pop, which has now become hip-hop & trap influenced, is one that is pretty simple.
We wouldn’t have expected Taylor Swift, who debuted with sweet country ballads to release trap banger, Kendrick Lamar-assisted ‘Bad Blood’ some years later. Yet the transition, as well as her freedom to experiment with different sounds, was easy and welcomed commercially. This endeavour is not uncommon; many White artists seek to ‘spice up’ their music careers by introducing a rap feature, trap beats, rap-singing and changing their clothing and aesthetics. White artists can also have incredibly successful careers making music within historically Black genres (Macklemore, Elvis Presley, Eminem, Iggy Azalea etc.).
Therefore, I’d like to know why we are hesitant to support Black artists, particularly rappers, when they experiment with different musical genres and aesthetics. It’s almost offensive considering that these are often genres created by Black people, who have been systematically pushed out of these genres over time. Sadly, Black artists are aware of this and many are wary of branching out — for instance, K. Michelle stating that she will never be taken seriously as a country artist, despite it being her favourite genre to sing. Meanwhile, white artists experiment in other genres with ease and commercial success (remember 2013 Miley Cyrus in the peak of her career — the twerking, gold-chain wearing, Mike-Will-Made-It phase? A tragic time, but she’d never been more successful). Alternative Black artists, or rather, any artist who plays outside the court of R&B, hip-hop or rap, are incredibly overlooked. For the most part, these artists are bereft of the commercial success they deserve, or just seen as weird. Some examples include: Yves Tumor, BigKlit, Teezo Touchdown, Loathe, Scarlxrd, ‘Rage’-era Rico Nasty, Princess Nokia’s emo album and anything Azealia Banks has ever made.
On the other hand, if they do belong to one of the accepted ‘Black’ genres, they are ridiculed when they deviate from the norm. Probably the best example of this is the heinous, criminal disregard for Lil Wayne’s 2010 effort, ‘Rebirth’. 10 years after its release, I’m giving this album its flowers — because no one else will. The project was a brave rap-rock endeavour, the reception of which perfectly demonstrates how people don’t want Black artists to grow.
Is ‘Rebirth’ the crème de la crème of its genre? No. Not even close. It’s… fine, it’s not great. But guess what, neither was ‘We Can’t Stop’, yet that was a hit and people ate up her “urban” reinvention. I digress. ‘Rebirth’ was crucified on its release and Wayne fans everywhere still shudder at the recall of it. However, ‘Rebirth’ undoubtedly changed the dynamic of rap. It was one of the most ambitious, entertaining crossover albums of its kind, not just for a rapper, but for Wayne in particular.
In 2010, Lil Wayne was arguably the biggest rapper in the world. This was during the aftermath of the tremendous success of ‘Tha Carter III’, an album that became an immediate rap classic. At his career’s peak, a time when others would be milking it for what it’s worth, he started to hand the baton over to then-emerging talents, his protégés Drake and Nicki Minaj. Then, he made a rock album out of nowhere. It didn’t make sense. It was all unexpected — a rapper daring to creep outside of his Black box. He did what most wouldn’t have dreamed of.
To say the least, Rebirth was unique. The album’s opener ‘American Star’ feels like a grand reintroduction, not only to Wayne’s sound but his identity at the time of a “dope boy with a guitar”. There’s something about hearing boastful lyrics, including reference to his then president who “is B-L-A-C-K”, over a steady, guitar-heavy rock groove. The all-American, the flex rap, the electric guitar — these things all co-exist. Now, I couldn’t review ‘Rebirth’ without giving credit to Young Money signee Shanell, who sang for her life on many of the project’s songs despite being marketed as an R&B singer at the time. Her hook and verse on ‘Runnin’ are sublime. Sublime. Black women singing more than one-and-a-half genres. Who would have thought?
Other sonic highlights include the ambitious 80s disco flip in ‘On Fire’, which was a ‘How to Make a Sample Your Own’ 101, as well as the wacky Nicki-assisted ‘Knockout’ that wouldn’t be out of place on a 2000s blink-182 record. Wayne takes on the tropes of pop/punk-rock even in his story-telling; The failed single ‘Prom Queen’ was a convincing ode to every rejected high-school sad boi’s fantasy of turning down the popular girl when they’re older and cool. This is what we call range. This man was rapping about shutting down banks, Bush’s oppression of Black Americans and sex with female police offers, just one album ago. Also, if ‘I’ll Die For You’ was sung by any below-average looking white male rock artist, it would have charted. I am not explaining further.
‘Rebirth’ was full of dramatic guitar riffs, head-bang worthy drums and Wayne’s auto-tuned crooning and scream attempts. The blend with trap influences and his signature razor-sharp, witty flow was innovative.
Is this sound for everyone? Of course not. But this just hadn’t previously been attempted so decidedly by an artist like him, and that is worthy of appreciation. The album saw some of Wayne’s punchiest and aggressive bars in his catalogue:
“This is my resurrection, so f*** your resolution”
“Served to survive, murdered and bribed / And when it got too heavy, I put my burdens aside”
“I’m Wayne on their hands like precipitation”
“Have a ball ’til I fall though / And if I die today, I bet the world end tomorrow”.
While ‘Drop The World’ featuring Eminem shone as the lead single, its success still paled in comparison to previous Wayne singles. Further, it was more ‘tame’, pop and catchy than the true punk-rock cuts on the album.
Probably due to the reception, Wayne’s next project ‘I Am Not a Human Being’ was a return to form with glitzy rap beats, but the best song on it is the title track — a quirky, rap-rock reference to the sound Rebirth was made up of.
Despite the backlash he received, I still get the sense that Wayne was having the time of his life. Listening back to the record, his most experimental album to this day, the joy in what he was making was palpable. It’s like he knew it was nuts, but he really didn’t care. He was just doing what he wanted.
It’s important to note that Black artists’ experimentation doesn’t have to be amazing for us to appreciate it. White artists have successfully been making mediocre trap & hip-hop inspired music for years. Why is there uproar when a rapper tries something different, brilliant or not? Wayne’s freedom to experiment and evolve as an artist should never have been questioned. Did he know how to play the electric guitar he always welded at the time? Probably not. Miley Cyrus didn’t know how to twerk either. ‘Bangerz’ still went #1 upon its release.
Regardless, Wayne was free, inspired and should have been given the encouragement to explore different sounds and aesthetics if he wished to. That is the creative expression that all Black artists deserve to have, and they should be commended for their efforts in the way that non-Black artists often are.
