Chance the Lightbeam
After taking the spotlight off of Chief Keef’s violent representation of Chicago, Chance the Rapper has the responsibility of steering Hip-Hop away from its association with materialistic opulence — by way of his spiritual optimism
Ironically, in a genre historically associated with sexism, with its biggest star — Drake — routinely disguising misogynist lyrics by way of sad-sack cellphone love songs, a la “Marvin’s Room” & “U With Me”, it took 23 year-old, Chance the Rapper — representing a generation socially ridiculed for their disrespectful and self-righteous tendencies — to profess the most refreshing line in recent Hip-Hop memory: Man my daughter couldn’t have a better mother/if she ever find another he better love her/Man I swear my life is perfect.
This proclamation, so contrary to the established sentiment among rappers to treat women like sex objects, is notable not just for what it says but for how it’s said.
Chance exudes such palpable optimism that it would take a special kind of cynicism to remain unconvinced of his genuineness. This optimism — rooted in his unabashed spirituality — is the foundation of Chance’s music.
It’s surprising enough that Chance, born and raised in the 21st century’s murder capital of the world — Chicago — is embracing a level of optimism that is unprecedented in Hip-Hop. Even more unfathomable is that a millennial — the same generation who grew up listening to the 50 Cent-led, Gangsta Rap wave of the early ‘00s — is showcasing the potential to steer the genre into, what would be, its most buoyant era.
Naturally, his hometown predecessor — Kanye West — carried the same lighthearted identity during his early run of success in the mid-’00s. Kanye influenced Hip-Hop’s sound, taking it from the beef-infused, aggressive, gun-toting era — embodied by DMX, 50-Cent, The Game, and others — to the back-pack rapping peak of the late ’00s, paving the way for his self-aware, socially conscious peers — Lupe Fiasco and Common.
With the 2008 release of 808s & Heartbreak, Kanye steered the genre in a melancholic direction, as rappers began to wear their hearts on their sleeve more freely, exhibiting groundbreaking vulnerability and lonlieness. Drake, Kid Cudi, and The Weeknds’ sound was modeled off this despondency, as they mastered the ability to reveal the qualms induced by their sudden experience of fame and celebrity.
This decade, besides the continued evolution of Kanye’s innovative soundscape, Hip-Hop has been dominated by Drake’s emotional sensitivity and Kendrick Lamar’s political engagement. Yet even amidst these more artistic turns, this era also coincided with the ascendance of Chief Keef, who, in revitalizing the dormant Gangsta Rap sub-genre, paved the way for YG, Bobby Schmurda, Fetty Wap, Lil’ Uzi Vert, Lil’ Yachty, and Kodack Black to gain prominence.
In 2013, at the same time that Chief Keef, along with peers Lil’ Durk and King Louie, had given Chicago’s violence a public face — by way of their gun-soaked, gang-affiliated, dark music videos — Chance’s mixtape, Acid Rap, exhibited another extreme.
Poignant, yet cheerful, Chance displayed the humanistic downside stemming from his hometown’s violence. Despite Chicago’s violent present, Chance exuded nostalgic and sentimental memories of an innocent childhood —resonating with his generation by way of Rugrats and Chuck E. Cheese references.
Although showcasing the promise of a brighter tomorrow — for a city amidst its darkest hour — Chance was mainly dismissed as a blip on the radar, as the Hip-Hop world was unconvinced of his potential lasting power.
Following the huge success of Acid Rap, Chance ignored the industry’s labels, adding an anti-establishment layer to his already joyous and independent persona. Backed by his collaborative ensemble — Donnie Trumpet & The Social Experiment — Chance released Surf, in the summer of 2015 — an album only considered his by affiliation.
Surf, rooted in gospel music and Chance’ radical Christianity, further fueled the personal philosphy surrounding his music. While Acid Rap was joyful, Surf was exuberant, too busy celebrating life to concern itself with the social qualms taking place in the world.
With his reputation still bubbling under the surface, it took one verse, from this past February, for the Hip-Hop world to reconsider their undervaluation of Chance.
Live on SNL, alongside Kanye — who was debuting his upcoming album’s first track, “Ultralight Beam” — Chance delivered a scene-stealing, career-defining, minute-and-a-half verse, backed by a choir that perfectly encapsulated the sound he had developed.
It was his moment. And the fact that Chance had it on a night when all eyes and ears were supposed to be on Kanye makes it all the more remarkable.
Then Chance dropped Coloring Book.
Taking full advantage of circumstance — released at a time when listeners were focused on the minimalistic Pablo, innovative Lemonade, politically-centered Untitled Unmastered, and predictable Views — Chance’s Coloring Book was a breath of fresh air.
Chance has recovered for us the simplicity of pure enjoyment. Over the past few years — beginning in June, 2013, with Yeezus —the notable Hip-Hop albums have been artistically challenging. Beyonce’s eponymous album paved the way for the concept of the surprise release, J. Cole’s Forest Hills Drive created the “no features” referendum, and Kendrick’s Butterfly used a Sly Stone-esque musical palette to preach political activism.
For the first time in a long time, an album was heralded for its joie de vivre, its commitment to life-affirming fun. Coloring Book’s major artistic statement was that life should be enjoyed. Not so long ago — before the unanimous appreciation for music that is soaked in social messages — that’s what made an album a classic. It wasn’t about what was said, rather what was felt.
As someone who is Chance’s age, I find his boundless optimism exhilarating. Millennials are often derided for their self-indulgence. Yet I think Chance’s brazenly genuine ambition to change the world, to soak up life for everything it’s got, should be our anthem.
I speak of wondrous unfamiliar lessons from childhood/Make you remember how to smile good.
