In contrast, Lil Nas X broke through with the genre-crossing Trojan horse of “Old Town Road.” The song felt more like a meme or gambit - blending together rodeo Americana and trap - than a traditional bop. That metaphor of freedom only works for those who were built up within the system in the first place. Then they turn from pop to hip-hop to renounce their industry manufacturing and claim a new kind of artistic authenticity, often signaling a refusal of Disney innocence and industry conventions. First, there’s the corporate era of their launch, when they build a big tween following. Young white pop stars usually follow an established narrative. The album is a reminder of why his voice as a young queer artist is so important, and it hints at the struggles he’s endured in order for the industry to make space for him. “Who would’ve thought I’d get there anyway?” he sings at one point, seemingly alluding to the summit he’s reached. Montero, his dreamy, evocative portrait of a former stan turned vulnerable superstar, is another sign of his talent. 1 hits, magazine covers, Grammy awards, SNL music guest spots, VMAs - a tall order in music’s ruthless attention economy era. In the run-up to his new album, Montero, out today, the 22-year-old garnered all the markers of pop success: No. 1 pop hits, last month he was the most-streamed rapper on Spotify, and he’s currently one of the top 10 most-streamed artists on the platform, period. Yet even amid a newer generation of queer acts, ranging from Troye Sivan and Sam Smith to Frank Ocean, Lil Nas X has already reached an unprecedented level of commercial success and industry recognition. “Hee-hee, I’m bad as Michael Jackson,” he sang on last year’s “Holiday.” “Pop star, but the rappers still respect me.” That a queer rapper has become a monocultural symbol of pop transgression is the result of numerous historical forces, including the undeniably dominant role of hip-hop in the streaming era and the increased visibility of LGBTQ artists.
Whether he’s turning his album rollout into a parody of pregnancy announcements or selling Satan shoes as tie-in merch to a devil gay lap dance video, he’s excelled at what pop stars used to do before they started selling everything but themselves: crossing new lines of commodifiable transgression that make us see the world differently. Since then, the one-time member of the Barbz came out and - in an era of downcast pop doldrums - has become pop’s most consistently surprising provocateur. He was half joking about the controversies that have embroiled him since his ubiquitous, record-breaking 2019 hit “Old Town Road” took over pop culture.
(A year later, music’s A-list are catching up: Drake leaked his new single to TikTok, and Beyoncé and Nicki Minaj have remixed its biggest songs.“I want to say thank you to the gay agenda!” Lil Nas X proclaimed as he won the Video of the Year award at the MTV VMAs on Sept. The dance app rocket-fuelled the song’s rise and cemented TikTok’s power to make trending songs into bona fide hits. It begs for choreography as much as a Steps song, and duly inspired TikTok’s viral #YeeHaw challenge (think plaid, lassos, and “Yee-Yee juice”). But Old Town Road wore its creator’s struggles lightly and its straightforward, knowing silliness made it fly.
A year before Old Town Road’s release, he had been sleeping on his sister’s floor: his faux-flexing in the lyrics (“Cowboy hat from Gucci / Wrangler on my booty”) adds an absurdist yet autobiographical twinge to the song, evoking an underdog hustling for a life of greater means. That’s largely thanks to Lil Nas X’s charismatic, gravel-voiced performance in which he raps about “bull riding and boobies” over trap beats and (thanks to a Nine Inch Nails sample) the loneliest-sounding banjo in the world. Despite the song’s ubiquity, it was difficult for anyone to truly hate.