I’m not talking fast; you’re listening slow.
Offset's viral interview was a subtle act of social rebellion.
At the 1995 Source Awards, André 3000 used his time on stage to let the audience, the music industry, and the world at large know that the “The South” had “something to say."
Over a decade later, Lil Wayne’s unprecedented takeover seemed to make good on the declaration 3000 had made years earlier. And at his peak, his music was filled with well-worded rebuttals to the dominant stereotypes about southern rap.
“To the radio stations, I’m tired of being patient/ Stop being rapper racist, region-haters. ... This is Southern; face it/ If we too simple, then y’all don’t get the basics.”
- “Shooter”, Lil Wayne
Years later, the sub-genre that Wayne laid the foundation for as a proud expression of southern pride was being scrutinized for its discernibly southern roots. Outside of any subjective hip-hop taste or preferences, the criticism of what’s been labeled, “mumble rap” has always been inherently coded. At its core it reflects the expectation for Black artists (and people) to translate our experience into something others can easily digest. This demand, for Black music, dialects, and culture to become palatable for mass consumption is one of the entertainment industry’s most obvious ties to America’s longest-standing tradition - anti-Blackness.
In the 2010s, the dominant narrative was that “mumble raps” signature elements (i.e, manipulation of cadence, pitch, inflection, and melodic vocal range) were bastardizations of traditional rap rather valid stylistic choices. The artists in this category were often labeled as lacking lyrical ability and their music stigmatized for lacking depth and meaning. But what the gatekeepers and industry elite of this mindset failed to consider is that art doesn’t need to speak to everyone to be worthy of existing. And in this case, the influence of those the art was made for was enough to elevate the music from an underground phenomenon to a mainstream mainstay.
Although as a whole the genre was built from a range of regional influences from the Southeast (Atlanta) to the Midwest (Chicago) the music was generally reduced to being “hard to understand.” At the height of the cluttered cultural conversation around this artistic movement, one underlying message was clear;
“Black art doesn’t have a right to be difficult.”
If the things Black people create are deemed unintelligible by outsiders it’s assumed to be the fault of the artist and not the audience. While there is room for debate around how the on melody and low registers impact the narrative value of songs like these, they are also one of the best modern examples of how music translates the sometimes ineffable nature of human emotion. Where music is concerned, the authenticity of an artist has always been how truthfully they can represent the community they come from. The same is true for the artists in this now historic genre.
“Straight out the jungle…This real rap no, no mumble.”
- “Narcos”, Migos
The recent viral interview between Offset, (one of the most prominent and enduring faces of the “mumble rap” revolution) and Bobbi Althoff (a problematic, social media pseudo-celeb) doesn’t exist in a vacuum. Her rise to fame on the shoulders of Black culture, with little credentials in media or journalism, and his musical success in the face of exceptional scrutiny and industry bias set the stage for how their conversation was received.
From the onset, Bobbi’s demeanor and line of question was unoriginal, uninspired, and unfit for the caliber of artist she was sitting next to. She made several unsuccessful attempts to paint Offset as ignorant or primitive only further revealing her own implicit bias. What was most evident after fifty-six minutes and twenty-six seconds of uncomfortable banter, is that things haven’t changed much since Andre took to the Source Awards stage with his declaration in defense of the South.
Close to three decades later, whether it’s on a track or in an interview, Black artists are still being asked to translate. Now as much as ever, there is an unspoken expectation for Black entertainers to change how they express and articulate themselves. And what’s worse, this cultural decoding is all in service of making people that don’t genuinely want to understand them more comfortable.
In this interview, Offset’s intentional and repeated refusal to change the way he spoke at Bobbi’s request was a reclamation of power. Without directly saying it, he let her and everyone watching know that he didn’t feel the need to explain himself to her, that he wasn’t beholden to her standards of respectability, and that her (seemingly purposeful) lack of understanding was her problem not his.
By beating Bobbi at her own game, Offset effortlessly, and with a flair only he could, subverted the power dynamic she was trying to establish with her poorly executed schtick. A dynamic that implied he (a guest on her show) should’ve done the work to help her comprehend him instead of her (the host of a growing platform) being responsible for doing the due diligence to accommodate a pop culture icon. Whether or not you’re generally a fan of Bobbi’s haphazard Funny Marco impression, it goes without saying that the onus for setting the tone of the interview was on her.
She should’ve done the research to understand the cultural references of her guest’s music and familiarized herself with his background before inviting him to her platform. She should’ve done the work to bridge the gap between their respective ways of being in order to genuinely relate to him. And above all else if she couldn’t understand him, she should’ve listened harder.