Chance the Rapper has taken an outside path into the mainstream.
HOW THE UNCONSTRAINED CHANCE THE RAPPER GAINED THE MAINSTREAM’S RESPECT
In September, Chance the Rapper trashed a mock- up of a generic record- label office as he performed his song “No Problem” on The Ellen DeGeneres Show. On Sunday, the fiercely independent MC performed at The Grammy Awards and accepted three trophies, among them Best New Artist. Why did the U.S. Recording Academy’s annual backslapping fest welcome a musician who has continually thumbed his nose at the culture of the labels that founded it?
Well, for one thing, because he actually cares. Justin Bieber didn’t attend the Grammys ( according to TMZ) because he thought the awards weren’t “relevant or representative”; Drake had scheduled a tour date in England; Frank Ocean accused the Grammys of “cultural bias” and didn’t submit his album Blond for consideration; Kanye West no doubt had something better to do. And yet Chance, an undeniable rising star at 23, had actually signed a fan’s petition to allow artists releasing free mixtapes, such as his own latest work, Coloring Book, to be nominated. When the board of directors agreed, he took out a full-page ad in trade magazine Billboard, asking Grammys voters, “Hey, why not me?”
Clearly they listened. Coloring Book won Best Rap Album, and its song No Problems was named Best Rap Performance.
The notoriously out- of- touch Grammys do occasionally reward musical achievement and cultural relevance, rather than simply sales, and there’s no question Chance is a galvanizing force at a time of major music industry uncertainty. He’s the first artist ever to hit the Billboard U.S. charts on the basis of streaming alone — Coloring Book, which isn’t available as a physical release and can be downloaded for free, hit No. 8 in May. Assisted by a rookie 26- year- old manager and zero label deals, he has grown a huge fan base, with a 40- date arena tour in the works. And his success, coupled with his all-for-one, one- for- all spirit, may pave the way for more inspired mavericks.
Born Chancellor Bennett in south- side Chicago in 1993, Chance has proved himself to be as good as his “Auntie Yoncé” at making lemonade when life gives you lemons. He was inspired to record his first mixtape, 10 Day ( 2012), after being suspended from high school for smoking marijuana. He would press CDRs into the hands of anyone who would take them, and his grassroots following made its successor, 2013’s Acid Rap, a sensation on mixtape site DatPiff, surpassing a million (free) downloads. He has made money from touring, selling merchandise and the odd TV commercial, although such is his commitment to independence that, bereft of label advances, he has apparently gone broke after paying for studio time for his last two projects. Surf (2015) was credited to his bandmates, Donnie Trumpet and the Social Experiment, and he boasted to Fader that every track “has like 50 people on it.” He has said over 100 people worked on Coloring Book.
On that album, he rages about “getting blocked just trying to make songs with friends / Labels told me to my face that they own my friends.” In other words, some of his collaborations were nearly thwarted by label interests trying to skim off money from appearances by artists they had under contract. Chance has said he eventually turned to Universal Music in some capacity for help with smoothing things out. Although again, it seems, without agreeing to a deal. He told GQ he doesn’t want to give in to a label because he doesn’t want “those guys being able to say that they got me.”
Being unsigned allows him the freedom not only to pick and choose his musical cohort and direction, but also, say, to ink a streaming deal with Apple Music. Coloring Book was available exclusively on the service for its first two weeks, after which, one imagines, Chance wasn’t broke anymore. Such arrangements are frowned upon or even verboten by labels, and often with good reason: they produce a bottleneck that cuts off other avenues for people to hear or buy the music, thereby diminishing its impact.
However, it’s not as if Chance has distanced himself entirely from the biggest power brokers in music through his choices — increasingly, streaming services are the new gatekeepers. And certainly Chance has a brand, comprising his ubiquitous baseball caps, his guileless and wide-eyed look, his all-energy performances and his general upbeatness. But his potential to effect change in the industry has more to do with his attitude and the uncommon range of his talent. He remains unpredictable.
Despite his stage name, he sings as much as he raps, and with a versatile voice: on his Muhammad Ali tribute, I Was a Rock, at this year’s ESPYs, you could hear him go from a gruff, roaring lower register via his personable, lived- in tenor to a stirring falsetto. And when he raps, he alters his tone and his cadence depending on the situation and who else is on the track. Chance may pop up as a guest artist with everyone from Skrillex to Madonna, but he’s the anti-Ja Rule, free of cliché.
So while the Grammys — and radio formats — still hew to the arbitrary parameters of genres, Chance manages to transcend them. His work has layers: during his Grammys performance, which mashed up hard-hitting hip-hop with uplifting gospel, he rapped intensely about God ( the one higher power to whom he’ll submit), his city (where he’s a wellknown activist), real and metaphorical slavery, and the perils of signing with labels — all while packing together imagery drawn from both the Bible and Harry Potter. He ended with a chorus of “Music is all we got,” in keeping with the 2017 Grammys’ search to portray music as a unifying force at a divided time. And where Recording Academy President Neil Portnow ham-fistedly asked Donald Trump in a speech to “update music laws” while supporting the arts, Chance’s performance felt as though it actually might bear fruit.
Having led thousands of fans, pied- piper- like, to vote in last fall’s U.S. election after one of his hometown shows, Chance clearly knows how to charm people into action. Through force of musical personality, charisma and graft, he has risen to the top of his profession. Given his work with budding artists in Chicago, he’s clearly encouraging others to follow his example. And as the musical A-list hedges its creative bets, and calculated producers become responsible for more and more hits with diminishing returns, he’s a breath of fresh — if slightly weed-tinged — air. Lord knows the Grammys need Chance the Rapper more than Chance the Rapper needs the Grammys.