Hip hop faces its midlife crisis

August 11, 2023, marked the 50th anniversary of the legendary party organized by DJ Kool Herc in the Bronx, considered the birthplace of hip hop. Coinciding with the anniversary, events, articles, threads on X, and Instagram posts followed, celebrating not only the legacy of one of the most important cultural expressions in history, but also confirming that hip hop — in its musical, aesthetic, and even sociopolitical manifestations — had become a near-hegemonic discourse, from the streets of Los Angeles to Paris fashion shows. That year, 2023, saw the release of wonderful albums by Killer Mike, Danny Brown, Slowthai, Billy Woods, Armand Hammer, Noname… the genre continued riding a wave that, in the previous decade, had swept away any kind of competition for the throne of global cultural domination.

Two and a half years have passed since that anniversary and hip hop has lost 24% of its sales share in the music industry, its share of the streaming pie has shrunk to 19%, and more than half of those streams come from older releases. A few weeks ago, the specialized media outlet Complex called for the arrival of a new savior, a leading figure to follow in the footsteps of Eminem, Jay-Z, Kanye West, and Kendrick Lamar, who in 2024 with his global hit “Not Like Us” — the climax of his highly publicized feud with Drake — and his brilliant album GNX, had almost single-handedly sustained hip hop’s commercial and socially mainstream relevance. Last year, his Grand National Tour, alongside SZA, was a global event that grossed $360 million. But the day they stepped off the stage after their last show in Sydney on December 11, the comedown was absolute. And now what?

Little. Little coherence. Little inventiveness. Few sales. Even Kendall Jenner, a great supporter of the genre in the circles of Caucasian glamour and kale salads, declared that it had been a long time since any rapper had excited her. The scene has become so self-absorbed that a few weeks ago the legendary 50 Cent warned that in New York there would soon be more podcasters covering hip-hop than rappers. A bit like journalism, where there seems to be three PR agencies for every media outlet.

So, 2026 has begun with an eclectic lineup whose only similarity to recent eras of success is that everything emerging seems like a somewhat watered-down version of what we experienced during the past 15 years of glory. Hip hop today behaves like the man who turns 50 and decides he’s going to go back to doing everything that made him happy when he had hair, his joints were well-oiled, and hangovers could be cured with a beer and an Alka-Seltzer. The problem is that wanting to re-experience what once made you happy is one thing, and actually achieving it is another.

To kick off the year, J. Cole released The Fall-Off a few weeks ago, a double album defined by both ambition and futility. Curiously, both of these qualities are proposed by its creator, who has once again threatened to retire. Twelve years have passed since the magnificent 2014 Forest Hills Drive made him one of the most successful and interesting rappers (back then, it was still possible to be both) on the scene. His subsequent releases have received lukewarm reviews from critics. This new record comes marked by a near-beef with Kendrick Lamar, from which Cole wisely withdrew when he saw what the author of DAMN. was doing to Drake. Entrenched in his psyche, he has produced an album that, like almost all works of this magnitude, alternates the sublime with the translucent (see: the Sagrada Familia). He seems to want that vacant throne. He seems not to be taking it.

Another major figure of recent years, Denzel Curry, will release the first mixtape from The Scythe next week, a supergroup the Miami rapper has formed with A$AP Ferg, Bktherula, TiaCorine, and Key Nyata. The record picks up where Still in the Paint left off — Curry’s collaboration with Bktherula from a couple of years ago — and takes it to that unique blend of trap and punk that the artist behind Zuu has been building for years, making him one of the few truly special and combative voices left in the mainstream. It’s unlikely to emulate the success of the other great supergroup of this century, Run The Jewels, but for now, March belongs to them. Mainly because, aside from J. Cole and Curry, the year so far has brought some rather uninspiring news, such as the umpteenth confirmation that A$AP Rocky has been and will continue to be a lightweight rapper with a hesitant stride. His attempts to achieve something resembling versatility on his new album, Don’t Be Dumb, result in a nauseating eclecticism. His relevance remains confined to fashion weeks and Rihanna’s reels.

Risky even in its journey through different styles and eras, but somewhat more successful is IDK’s e.t.d.s., which, apart from being hell to type, is a mixtape that touches on everything from rap metal to the most autotuned trap, with notable collaborations from Black Thought or No ID and a story that narrates the sequence of events that led to him receiving a 15-year prison sentence for armed robbery.

More innovative is By Storm’s My Ghosts Go Ghost, which is as close to experimental hip hop as it is to FKA Twigs or Anohni. It has its ideas and moments, but sometimes falls into the cliché of seeking originality by copying what has recently been hailed as original. That said, the best recent hip hop album was released on December 12, 2025. It’s titled Light Years, took decades to complete, and is by two guys aged over 50 named Nas and DJ Premier. A wonderful album and a terrible omen. Any rock fan who’s been here can confirm it.

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