

Growing up macklemore gay license#
But similar to the way mainstream rap gave American whites yet another medium through which to co-opt African American cultural idioms in America, could it now be that Mackelmore has given upper class yuppies a self-issued license to appropriate “thrift shop” culture? The disjuncture is inherent in the question: when you think about it, there’s nothing there to “appropriate” at all. “Thrift Shop” is a college anthem, and Brown students mostly adore it. And I have to wonder to what extent, if any, Mackelmore is responsible. The human disconnect in that warehouse was palpable. I got the sense that the employees were trying not to stare. Meanwhile, a clan of Brown students photographed their romp through the hangers, deliberately searching for the most obnoxious outfits as if to painfully remind the others-one wants to say, maybe, the regulars-of where they were. As our group of undergraduates loudly roamed through the store, an unshaven man in a sanitation uniform pushed his daughter on a stroller through the aisles another woman, plainly bone tired, searched listlessly for pajamas. But it was much harder to actually look around the aisles of the Salvation Army that day. It’s easy to dismiss a critique of your favorite artist.

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But an existential crisis has emerged in the Mackle-sphere, largely surrounding the archetypal question of fame and selling out, especially after the duo appeared in a TV spot for the NBA All-Star game clipping the anti-consumerism from their anti-consumerist anthem “Wings.”īut I’m also uneasy about some of the other political implications in Macklemore’s work, especially the criticism that the premise of “Thrift Shop” operates on a cultural assumption that its listeners would only hit up the Salvation Army for novelty-overlooking, for instance, the huge swath of Americans who actually need to shop there because they can’t afford to elsewhere. Macklemore’s diehard fans, myself among them, love the artist for his indie appeal. I first met Macklemore three years ago in a tiny club in West Philadelphia, where he played a show for about thirty people and joined fans with Ryan Lewis for shots after the show. Their single “Thrift Shop” topped the charts this year, which, if you haven’t heard by now, legally means you have been dead for the last three months (part of Obamacare). But Macklemore’s music is political, in the sense that he raps against the rituals of mainstream rap culture-consumerism, drug use, homophobia-that have obvious political repercussions, and counterpart debates in the political arena.įor those who haven’t walked through Jo’s this semester, Macklemore and his sidekick Ryan Lewis are a white hip-hop duo from the Northwest rap scene in Seattle. It has me wondering: Is Macklemore a political rapper? He’s not exactly dropping rhymes about the ramifications of a flat tax (although, let’s face it, that would be awesome). I’m referring specifically to Macklemore’s “Same Love.” It might have been the first time the Republican Party’s stance on a divisive social issue was predicated on that of an American hip-hop icon ( save, of course, the Baha Men).


And it was when milling through the Salvation Army store east of campus that I first heard the news of Senator Rob Portman (R-OH) endorsing same-sex marriage. I walked up into the store like I got a big-well, a big thrift shop party to prepare for.
