Nas is not my favorite rapper. Illmatic is not my favorite album. And I would be lying if I said that I knew more than two Public Enemy songs.

To anyone born before 1990, what I just said is about as blasphemous as it can get. In a recent Time Magazine interview, Long Beach rapper Vince Staples expressed similar sentiments, noting, “The ‘90s get a lot of credit — I don’t really know why.” Staples went on to add that Bow Wow was his favorite rapper.

Of course, trigger fingers turned to Twitter fingers and the backlash ensued. Rapper Noreaga called Staples’ comment about Bow Wow an “idiot statement” and launched into a Twitter monologue about why Staples was wrong. Though Staples and Noreaga patched up the dispute, there were countless other ’90s rap fans in Staples’ mentions, calling him out for not praising their favorite era of hip-hop.

Meanwhile, I’m sitting back Googling who Noreaga is (no shade) and thinking, “Yasss Staples plz tell them. ‘Shorty Like Mine’ was my favorite song in 7th grade.”

That’s because, like Staples, I didn’t start listening to hip hop until the mid-2000s. My first favorite hip-hop track was “Roses” by Outkast. Then, when I started going to public school and got put on to Hot 107.9 and (the old) 97.9, my morning music rotation was “Lean Back,” “Candy Shop,” “What You Know”, and whichever single from the Goodies album was poppin’. If you asked me who my favorite rapper was in middle school, I’d probably have said either Soulja Boy, T.I. or Jeezy. And by high school, my main sets were Lil Wayne’s Tha Carter III, everything Kanye West (except 808s and Heartbreak), Drake and Childish Gambino.

More than the bars, beats or dances these artists created, their music is important to me because of the memories associated with it. “Kiss Me Thru the Phone” and “A Milli” remind me of middle school silliness, while songs like “All Falls Down” and “Tie My Hands” take me back to the times that I started to question the world and its problems.

For most listeners, hip-hop is about those exact moments and experiences, so I’m always confused as to why there is such a heavy expectation for me to love ’90s rap music more than the hip-hop that came out when I was actually in a position to listen to it. I mean, although I greatly enjoy Reasonable Doubt, Jay-Z dropped that album when I was 2 years old. Y’all really expected my toddler self to run around singing “Cant Knock the Hustle?”

Seriously. It’s not that I don’t respect and occasionally listen to ’90s rap pioneers and their older discography, but the nostalgia’s just not there for me.

And that is 100 percent okay.

I need all rap and hip-hop fans to stop acting like there was a Golden Age of music in the ’80s and ’90s that will always surpass the present. I do not want to hear about how Future and Fetty Wap are trash or about how Drake sings too much, because for every Nas and Jay-Z, there was a Flava Flav and an M.C. Hammer.

Genres grow and develop. It’s alright if your fav. is Public Enemy or A Tribe Called Quest, but don’t come for my life if I put Drake in my Top Five — and don’t act like I’m less of a rap fan because of it. I still appreciate lyricism, content and musical complexity just as much as any ’90s fan. To be honest, we should all be celebrating the current state of rap music. We should be proud that Kendrick, Vince Staples and J. Cole can exist alongside less traditional artists such as Chance the Rapper, Young Thug and Angel Haze. The diversity of hip-hop and rap is one of the genre’s most amazing accomplishments.

So, if all y’all ’90s stans could just Fade to Black with the judgement, I, along with everyone else age 25 and below, would greatly appreciate it.

 

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