E-grāmata: Crybaby: The Artists Who Shaped Emo Rap

A revelatory examination of Emo Rap, from its inception to its incendiary ascent into the mainstream, including the critical artists that defined its sound and ethos, from Kid Cudi to Lil Peep, Lil Uzi Vert, XXXTentacion, and Juice WRLD.

When Kid Cudi dubbed himself the “lonely stoner,” the texture of contemporary hip-hop was forever changed. The young rapper droned over purple blips and skitters on “Day ‘N’ Nite,” unaware that he was terraforming the foundation of rap. As the decades wore on, the song came to symbolize a changing of the guard, and the next generation of kids were about to get really sad on the mic.

Crybaby: The Artists Who Shaped Emo Rap chronicles the rise and fall of a genre born from suburban malaise. From Atmosphere giving emo its name in the late ’90s, to Juice WRLD capturing every corner of rap’s attention with his wailing high school angst, this was the definitive sound of bugged out youth. Emo rap is visceral. It’s Lil Peep with the pink and black split dye, singing about bleeding out after getting dumped; Lil Uzi Vert making a suicidal club smash that soundtracks lavish Las Vegas day parties; XXXTentacion stirring controversy while topping the charts with “Sad!”

Artists recorded into old computers and these records traveled through the digital portals of SoundCloud. They didn’t need record deals; they just needed WiFi. Listeners and their favorite acts had a singular meeting ground: everyone was trapped in their bedrooms and hoping to feel something. A network of reposts, comments, and word-of-mouth allowed the genre to bubble up nationally. While the press didn’t know what to make of Yung Lean and the Sad Boys’ viral rise online, the fans understood on contact that this was their music.

By the turn of the decade, the three most prominent emo rappers—Lil Peep, XXXTentacion, and Juice WRLD—had lost their lives to overdoses and gun violence. Stunted by tragedy, Emo shrunk down into an ornament to decorate pop-rap tunes. We’re now a far cry from Juice’s “All Girls Are The Same” rewriting the mainstream playbook as the next iteration of “Day ‘N’ Nite.”

But the numbers for the young artists we’ve lost tell a story of resilience. For those who were there during the whirlwind of the 2010s, emo’s imprint has not faded. Millions upon millions of fans worldwide turn to this music as twilight grips them and they stare off into their own emotional voids. It’s whiny. It’s base. And it speaks to the truth of the matter: every era will have its crybabies.