"I’ve written a few papers on how Future’s been important to the culture, and I still forget how good he is sometimes." - Elijah Bacerra
Contemporary
hip-hop has been characterized by a few common inclusions: double/triple-timed
hi-hats to produce a sonically distinct and quick instrumentation, synthesizers,
snare-heavy drum-kits, and a briskly paced flow rapped in “triple time.” These
are characteristics of trap music (also known as “trap rap”), a subgenre of
hip-hop that was brewed in the south by the likes of Gucci Mane, Young Jeezy,
T.I., and UGK in the late 1990s/early 2000s (DJ Mag 2013). The lyrical content
of the genre is marked by a glorification of carnality and impulse, distilled
down to the broader genre’s conventional subject matter: street culture, guns, drugs,
drug houses (“trap houses”), and carefree sex. One of the most successful trap
rap artists working today is the Atlanta-based artist Future, whose album, DS2, stands as one of the most
critically acclaimed albums of the genre (Metacritic). Noteworthy for its
unexpected release in 2015 at the height of Future’s popularity, DS2 intriguingly subverts many of the
hallmarks of the trap rap genre yet still belongs to that particular genre. It
invites a sense of ominousness and conscious exploration of a troubled psyche,
the likes of which foreign to most modern hip-hop artists who function in the
trap genre. DS2 furthers expands the
potential of the genre, going beyond what Gucci Mane and the rap-group Migos
have popularized, to offer something deeper and more concerning in its detailed
portrait of abject melancholy and personal torment. Future’s third studio album
is structurally different from the tones of many trap albums, from its
subversion of the genre’s energetic zeal to its conscious exploration of an
artist by way of troubled lyricism, doomy instrumentals, and a blasé state of
mind.
For clarification, the 18-track deluxe edition of DS2 will serve as the basis for this
structuralist analysis. Due to the inarguably lofty task of trying to do an
entire album justice in such a condensed amount of time, the primary focus will
be on four tracks, each coming in at different places in the album. The
following tracks will be examined in the respective pairs: “Though it was a
Drought” (track one) and “Blood on the Money” (track 13), and “Rich $ex” (track
ten) and “Blow a Bag” (track 12). Finally, the methodology behind the
aforementioned process involves looking at the contents of each song,
including, but not limited to, production, lyricism, characteristics, subject
matter, and mood. Employing the theoretical concept of structuralism allows the
nuances and makeup of Future’s songs to surface in relation to how they
function as part of a larger compilation as well as discern their individual
attributes in contribution to the larger genre. Due to the relative newness of
the material, primary sources will serve as baselines for the analysis, as well
as works that provide added context to the genre and DS2 as a whole. In regards to the latter, Adam J. Kruse’s piece
“Being Hip-Hop” discusses the ingredients of the genre in the classical sense,
which will provide further explanation for how Future manages to make the trap
genre evolve to fit his growing synergy as an artist.
To begin with, a bit of background on Nayvadius Wilburn,
who has gone by the stage-name “Future” since his career began in the mid-2000s
(The Famous People 2018). After gaining popularity with his mixtapes and
sophomore album Honest in 2014, Future
hit an enviable stride that many rappers could only hope for in their own
careers. From October 2014 to March 2015, Future released three mixtapes online
— Monster, Beast Mode, and 56 Nights — to rave reviews and
incredible popularity from his core base as well as the new fans he managed to
make out of his newest releases. Upon the release of these mixtapes, it was as
if auto-tune, the popular vocal enhancer in contemporary hip-hop and R&B
music, had made a comeback thanks to the way Future utilized it. Writer Mosi
Reeves states that Future “reflects the sound of post-millennial rap,” and that
his “highly original blend of harmonized, oft-Auto-Tuned vocals and slurry,
half-murmured trap raps made him a sensation in the [Atlanta] scene” (Reeves
2017). The groggy demeanor Future employs when rapping has been a popular
footnote since his rise to superstardom, and DS2 makes use of it in a way that evokes its bleakness in relation
to its lyricism rather than a simple aesthetic detail. Future has come from
existing on the outskirts of the previously fertile “Atlanta rap sound,” as
it’s come to be known, to defining it. After solidifying himself as a prolific
force with which to be reckoned thanks to the release of the three
aforementioned mixtapes, Future announced the upcoming release of his third
studio-album, DS2 (an abbreviation
for “Dirty Sprite 2”), on July 10, 2015. Seven days later, the album was released
to digital platforms and retailers, debuting at #1 on the Billboard charts
(Smith 2016) and being certified Platinum by the RIAA less than a year later
(RIAA 2016). DS2 was a monumental
turning point not only for Future and his meteoric rise as one of the biggest
rappers in the world, but also for trap music. Whether or not the genre’s
fan-base recognized it at the time, DS2 was
nothing short of a dynamic change for what was to be expected from the
ever-popular genre. It was a lucid, druggy crusade through Future’s dark, unsavory
lifestyle, fueled by lust, ego, and lean (the popular drink concoction of rap
culture that mixes with promethazine codeine cough syrup with Sprite soda,
hence the album’s title). The album presents a stark contrast form the
celebratory nature of other contemporary trap rappers. For example, Lil Wayne,
who has effectively been working within the genre for most of this decade, has
continued to fuel it with his snappy wordplay and quick-witted metaphors. The
aforementioned troupe Migos have created hit-after-hit thanks to their
exuberant instrumentals and dynamic energy displayed through fast-paced flows.
With DS2, Future discards many
attempts to be amiable or even “radio-friendly,” a term used to describe
stereotypically chorus-heavy songs that fit the mold of Top 40 radio. The end
result is something structurally distinct, moodier and more haunting than what
the genre is known to bring.
Both “Thought it was a Drought,” the album’s opener, and
“Blood on the Money,” the standard album’s closer (the deluxe edition continues
for five more tracks), dial back the sprightliness of trap music with Future
describing the haunting revelations of his lifestyle. “Thought it was a
Drought” begins with ominous synthesizers laced over the sounds of cough syrup
and soda sloshing around a Styrofoam cup until the beat offers Future an “in”
to begin rapping. “I just fucked your bitch in some Gucci flip-flops,” he
starts, “I just had some bitches and I made ‘em lip-lock. I just took a piss
and I seen [sic] codeine coming out. We got purple Activas, I thought it was a
drought” (Wilburn 2015). Future croons over the ethereal instrumentation for
the better portion of three and a half minutes, abstractly detailing the
endless cycle of drug abuse and deals that have been an integral part in his
life and the success he’s seen at such a young age. He persists on with
indirect statements towards his many lovers and those who have come and gone in
his life. “Tell me them lies that you want me to hear,” he says in the middle
of the second verse, “I try to forget but it's hard to forgive” (Wilburn 2015).
Structurally speaking, the subject matter in this particular song isn’t
anything atypical for the genre. Drugs and sex have been a part of hip-hop
lyrics since its inception. It’s the way Future describes the presence of drugs
in his life, and how his descriptions transcend glorification into the realm of
being entrancing sedatives that play a role in his own torment. “I take these
pills and I'm having a thrill,” he later opines. “Taking prescription's a hell
of a feeling. As for the Xanny, I never forgot it” (Wilburn 2015). In the
context of hip-hop songs, drug use is frequently referenced in a celebratory
manner, as if to obtain bragging rights for making reckless decisions with
prescription medication. In Future’s case, on “Thought it was a Drought,” he describes
his personal usage in a blasé state of mind, unfazed by the obvious dangers and
in no mood to boast about how the narcotics play a role in his life for the
positive.
In “Blood on the Money,” Future details the gritty business side of
selling drugs, or the events that we could reasonably believe lead him to
adopting the use of marijuana and Percocets in order to relax. “We've been at
the laundromat all day,” he says early in the song. “We've been washin' money
all day,” the ambiguity of the lines intended to give the idea that the money
is “dirty,” or in this case, “bloody,” with the residue on it showing the
ultimate price that rises above the monetary value (Wilburn 2015). Coupled with
the metaphorical act of cleansing money is the notion that Future’s circle of
friends is small and impermeable, especially to those who are attracted by what
they perceive as a lavish, get-rich-quick lifestyle. “She put me off and it was
ugly,” Future says about a woman late in the song. “I made a million dollars,
say she love me. The way she did me, it destroyed me, I kept it real with lil’
shorty” (Wilburn 2015). From the context of these lines, it’s reasonable to
assume that Future’s drug-addled lifestyle stems from a lack of trust for the
people that surround him. Many of them are, like the unnamed woman in the
track, trying to come after his lavish lifestyle without understanding the
consequences or the work he’s put into it quite like his confidants (“lil’
shorty”) do. The caustic nature of both “Thought it was a Drought” and “Blood
on the Money” are cloaked by hypnotic production and slurry lyrical delivery,
which makes Future’s slang-heavy lyrics foreign to many on the first and even
second listen.
Furthermore, it’s rare for trap music to iterate the negative
consequences of an illegal lifestyle. In most songs, such as “Trap House” by
Gucci Mane or even the more-recent “T-Shirt” by Migos, this underground career
is portrayed as a rags-to-riches rise that presents many opportunities for a
copious amount of wealth to be accrued and flaunted at every turn. Throughout DS2, wealth is shown to come at the cost
of Future’s mental and physical wellbeing, as well as his feelings of safety,
as we see over much of “Blood on the Money.” Writer and Professor Adam J. Kruse
discusses in his piece, “Being Hip-Hop,” some of the main principles of
hip-hop, one of which, he claims, is the desire to “keep it real.” This is a
structural convention of the genre’s lyricism; the biting desire of rappers to
remain true to song lyrics by living what they’re rapping, so to speak. Kruse
talks about the abstract concept of what is “real,” however, claiming it is a “‘floating
signifier’ of authenticity that continually changes over time and in various
contexts” (Kruse 2016). The end result, he claims, is “no singular authentic in
hip-hop, but that asserting to keep it real is still an essential and valued
claim” (Kruse 2016). By exhaustively detailing the perils and side-effects of
his violent existence, Future breaks the mold of the trap genre by allowing
listeners to hear a greater sense of danger in his music. By doing so, he
negates the expectations of a zealous and highly energized compilation of songs
meant to lift the spirits by grounding them in a grim reality.
If the previous two songs spun the reiterated role of
drugs in hip-hop music in a subversively literal manner, then the next two,
“Rich $ex” and “Blow a Bag,” work to destabilize the practices of copious sex
and reckless spending as they’re known in trap music by bringing in a more
conscious perspective. The genre of conscious hip-hop takes many forms, but in
its most broad definition, it seeks to impart knowledge and peel back the
hyperbolic nature of hip-hop, which comes in the form of it being a world
defined by luxury and excess. Many conscious rappers speak about the negative
impacts of violence, racial inequality, and discrimination in the black
community (Adaso 2017). Future might not take it that far, at least on DS2, but he does impart some insights on
the titular concepts of these two particular tracks. “Rich $ex” begins with
Future setting the scene for his subsequent sexual rendezvous. “I got my
diamonds on. You got your diamonds on. Watches on watches. I looked at her and
I said, ‘Beautiful.’ Baby let's go have rich sex” (Wilburn 2015). Trap artists
don’t shy away from explicit details when it comes to expounding upon their
sex-lives in their music; it’s not uncommon for descriptions to tread on
pornographic just to paint a picture. This is quite the opposite in the case of
Future’s DS2 track, as three minutes
pass and there is not a single romantic nor a specific detail to paint the
intercourse taking place in a light that isn’t grossly superficial. The song’s
repetitive nature drones on about Future and his partner(s) sporting “AP” (Audemars
Piguet) and “Rollie” (Rolex) watches during their lovemaking sessions, on top
of the mood-enhancer that allegedly comes when Future’s female partner looks
down on his chest to see his many “VVS” chains (the abbreviation meaning “very,
very slight,” referring to the quality of inclusions in diamonds). “Rich $ex”
is quite possibly the least romantic song ever to include “sex” in the title,
and even when you consider the frequently caustic way sex is discussed in other
trap songs, it still finds itself at a significant intimacy disadvantage. “And
I have some Tom Fords on while you suckin' me,” Future raps near the end of the
track. “Cuban link hang off my neck, to your neck from my neck. To my watch and
my chain, it's gon' drizzle” (Wilburn 2015). Once more, the song isn’t about
intimacy nor romance, but instead the very idea that “rich sex,” as a concept,
involves material items. The conscious aspect to this track is that this kind
of alienation, as it’s being described here, is rarely proposed in hip-hop
music. Future delivers his romantically detached lyrics through the
incomprehensible, slurred demeanor he’s popularized for much of his career, and
like most tracks on DS2, it feels more
appropriate given the subject matter.
Meanwhile, “Blow a Bag” finds Future
bearing a disillusioned tone of voice, which is shocking considering the song is
predicated upon the idea of him spending large quantities of money at once (“a
bag”). A song like “Rich $ex,” which comes two tracks before “Blow a Bag” on DS2, and its subject matter suggests
that Future would be more than content, even ecstatic, at the opportunity to
sing the praises of his nine-figure net worth and all the luxuries it affords.
Instead, subjectively speaking, the best instrumental on the album, with its
polyrhythmic keyboard and drum-kick-laden harmonies working off of one another
to produce a layered beat, is used for Future to expound upon the surrounding
circumstances that might motivate him to mask his problems by spending
exorbitant amounts of money. Future wastes no time getting sentimental in the
song: “I know for sure, for sure, if my granddad was livin', I know he'd be
proud of me[…]I know for sure, for sure, if moms [sic] was livin', you'd never
would doubted me” (Wilburn 2015). Future brings up fallen relatives and friends
intermittently throughout the verse almost as a method of catharsis and
self-reflection; an acknowledgement of what he’s lost in achieving the
lifestyle he has now and what he’ll never be able to get back. Furthermore, if
it weren’t for the chorus, which specifically has Future citing the mall as a
place he’ll “blow a bag,” it would be difficult to determine whether or not
this song has any specific relation to spending money at all. While the first
verse has Future vocalizing his fallen family members, the second verse has him
recalling all that it took to get in this position in the first place, similar
to “Blood on the Money.” “I ran it up with the same niggas,” he begins the
second verse, “Get that money and stay with the same niggas. I know that money
can change niggas. They don't look at you like you the same nigga” (Wilburn
2015). Rather than a celebration or a full-on glorification of reckless
spending, Future uses “Blow a Bag” like a cautionary tale to individuals,
namely men, younger than him that were in his position. He recalls Kruse’s
foundational concept of hip-hop music in that “keeping it real” (in this case,
never losing sight of those who helped you get where you are today) is a value
he holds dear to him, even if that aspect of “real” involved watching some of
his closest relatives and partners die at a young age.
The structures present
in these two songs contradict one another: “Rich $ex” has Future praising his
valuables while donning them during sexual intercourse and “Blow a Bag” shows
him forgoing the specifics of his purchases in order to indulge in a moment of
humility and reflection. Both songs are marked by melancholic production, with
only intermediate piano-keys in “Blow a Bag”’s instrumentation trying all they
can to liven up what is a somber mood for what was inferred as an upbeat track.
Where “Rich $ex” at least offers the hope that the partner with whom Future is
having sex could offer some momentary companionship, “Blow a Bag” sounds
downright hopeless, especially in the larger context of DS2. Trap music is very often surface in its lyricism, save for
slang words, which might prompt a quick Google-search by a listener to assure
they’re on the same page as the artist. It very seldom evokes these kinds of
feelings, given the structure is tilted towards embellishing the virtues of
wealth and the social privileges of status.
Once again, these songs take up just over an eighth of
what is to be unearthed and analyzed on DS2.
For further context of the album: “Trap Niggas,” a brooding anthem that has
Future giving a salute to all those that are part of the “trapping” lifestyle
of dope-dealing and shooting dice to earn a quick buck, “Slave Master” has
Future using the colloquialism “whip,” used to reference a vehicle, as a
play-on-words to equate himself to a slave master and the figure’s weapon of
choice, while touching on the boiling racial tensions in America, “Where Ya At”
features Canadian hip-hop/pop sensation Drake, the only guest on the album, in
the song that questions the presence of the unseen forces or “takers” in the
lives of both Future and Drake by constantly reiterating the anaphoric
statement, “where ya ass was at? [sic],” and “Rotation” has Future equating the
concept of passing a marijuana joint amongst a group of friends with passing a
plethora of prostitutes around the room to other men for oral and vaginal sex. Also
a bit uncommon in more formal trap releases (albums and EPs as opposed to
mixtapes) is the presence of a theme or a core concept carried through a song,
something that Future makes clear to employ on most, if not all, of the tracks
on the album.
While
still catering to the trap genre in terms of its aesthetics and subject matter
of its lyrics, Future’s DS2 is very
much a structural subversion of the genre given its foray into troubled
lyricism and conscious subject matter. Clocking in at nearly an hour in length,
Future manages to detail a costly and sometimes unfortunate existence that
sounds as if depression is almost a few sips of lean and one or two more $100,000
royalty checks away. It’s easy to overlook the subtleties that populate
Future’s lyrics on DS2. Contextually,
they’re not much different or even unique in subject when compared to other
contemporary hip-hop releases. Moreover, it’s the tone that’s cast over them in
conjunction with the conscious elements of death, self-sacrifice, the blurred
lines between good and evil, and the disastrous effects of drugs that surface,
all doing their part to further subvert the trap genre beyond what it and its
structures have been known to do in the present context. The structures are
bent in a way that has them still very much in place on DS2, but greatly manipulated in a way that shows the personal
torment of an artist all while furthering the genre that will continue to live
on even as the fatigue sets in on part of those who have made it possible to
sustain the kind of success its seen.
Works
Cited
Admin. “Trap Music: Under Lock and Key.” DJMag.com, 30
June 2015, djmag.com/content/trap-music-under-lock-key.
“Gold & Platinum: DS2 by Future.” RIAA, www.riaa.com/gold-platinum/?tab_active=default-award&ar=Future&ti=DS2#search_section.
Kruse, Adam J. “Being Hip-Hop.” General Musical Today. Vol. 30, Issue 1. Oct 2016.
Reeves, Mosi. “Hip-Hop Family Tree: Future's Atlanta.”
Rolling Stone, 22 Aug. 2017, www.rollingstone.com/music/videos/hip-hop-family-tree-futures-atlanta-w499092.
Smith, Trevor. “Charts Don't Lie: January 13th.”
HotNewHipHop, 13 Jan. 2016, www.hotnewhiphop.com/charts-dont-lie-january-13th-news.19603.html.
“Who is Future (Rapper)? Everything You Need to Know.”
The Famous People. 2017, www.thefamouspeople.com/profiles/future-rapper-15949.php.
Wilburn, Nayvadius. “Blood on the Money.” DS2. Epic, 2015.
Wilburn, Nayvadius. “Blow a Bag.” DS2. Epic, 2015.
Wilburn, Nayvadius. DS2. Epic, 2015.
Wilburn, Nayvadius. “Rich $ex.” DS2. Epic, 2015.
Wilburn, Nayvadius. “Thought it was a Drought.” DS2. Epic, 2015.
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