“We always talk about underground hip-hop, but the underground we grew up on is not the same underground I see South African hip-hop heads talking about today.”
Those were the words from a friend of mine — someone who knew me long before HYPE, before the interviews, the articles, and everything else I’ve been involved in. That conversation got me thinking: have times changed, or has our understanding of what “underground hip-hop” means completely shifted?
If you go back into the history books, underground hip-hop referred to rap music created and distributed outside of the commercial mainstream. It prioritised lyrical depth, experimental production, originality, and DIY culture over radio formats and chart success. But even then, being underground never meant you had to be wack.
As we grew older and understood the culture better, underground hip-hop became a countercultural response to what many fans viewed as the overly commercialised and “dumbed down” direction of mainstream rap. It was the era of the backpacker aesthetic — socially conscious bars, boom-bap drums, dusty loops, and artists who cared more about the craft than the spotlight. But the internet changed everything.
The definition of “underground” slowly evolved. We grew up listening to artists like Jedi Mind Tricks, Kool Keith, B. Dolan, Diabolic, Immortal Technique, MF DOOM, Tech N9ne, and later Griselda — Conway, Westside Gunn, and Benny the Butcher. I can even go as far as mentioning KA, Roc Marciano, Stove God Cooks, Rome Streetz, Billy Woods, Armand Hammer, Che Noir, Boldy James, and so many more artists who carried the culture, some still with authenticity and substance. These artists represented a certain standard; the bars mattered, the storytelling mattered, and the production mattered. Even when the music was/is gritty, experimental, or unconventional, the skill was undeniable.
But over the years, the culture has shifted, especially for younger listeners and creators. The recent tensions and debates within South African hip-hop exposed something important: our definitions of “underground hip-hop” are no longer the same.
Today, underground doesn’t always mean lyrical. Sometimes it simply means independent, internet-driven, niche, aesthetically curated, or existing outside traditional media structures. Social media, streaming platforms, and digital communities have created a completely different ecosystem. Artists can build cult followings without ever touching radio, yet still dominate timelines and influence culture.
So now the question becomes: are we entering a new era of underground hip-hop altogether?
An era shaped more by digital identity than lyrical ability? An era where aesthetic, virality, and online presence carry as much weight as technical skill and storytelling?
As much as I enjoy parts of the new underground scene in South Africa, I still find myself revisiting artists like Optical Illusion, Mothipa, Reason, Ben Sharpa, Yugen Blakrok, Ta Longz, Tony Dangler, and the incredible MCs from the Sotra Cyphers era. There was(still) something raw, grounded, and intentional about that scene.
At the same time, I understand that culture evolves. Every generation defines the underground for itself. What sounded revolutionary to us may sound outdated to younger listeners, just as their version of underground might sound foreign to older heads.
But maybe that’s the beauty of hip-hop. It never stands still. Still, the question remains: Are we witnessing the death of the underground we knew, or are we simply watching the birth of a new one?