Playboi Carti: The Ethics of Manufacturing Mystique

A commentary on an artists’ relationship with their audience - is Carti manipulating his fanbase and what does that mean for the state of music in 2024?

It’s no secret that we’ve borne witness to a malignantly manipulative and deliberately elusive relationship archetype. The scourge of every situationship the world over, that has captured the cultural zeitgeist hook-line-and-sinker. The phenomenon of acting “nonchalant.” The receiving end of it is bad enough on a personal level, the tortuous uncertainty of it all, the on-again, off-again, the desperately painful but necessary cliche of “what are we?” But what happens when this mentality is extrapolated away from the arena of the romantic, and towards musicians and their fanatical audiences? What ethical and moral dynamics are traversed when artists committed to cultivating the ineffable quality of cool, (what the internet has cringe-inducingly dubbed ‘aura,’) supersede their obligations to their dedicated fans. No other artist exemplifies this curious circumstance more than Playboi Carti. He serves as an exemplar case study into the intricacies of the artist’s relationship to their audience, what their duties and expectations are, as well as the general peculiarities of our internet age.

His origins stem from the heralded age of the late 2010’s SoundCloud era that brought such acclaimed acts as Lil Peep, Juice Wrld and XXXTentacion; the halcyon days of 2016-18, of which the mere mention is certain to elicit a fuzzy feeling for those fortunate enough to have lived through it. Carti stood out as one of the most innovative of his time. Offering his signature blend of idiosyncratic ad-libs and vocal inflections woven seamlessly over the most lush and hypnotic production. He collaborated with a litany of industry giants from Lana Del Ray and Solange to Frank Ocean and ASAP Rocky. Yet Carti’s breakthrough came during a very specific time. A throwback to the traumatic throes of 2020’s bitter, wintry pandemic season, when our entire country was left at the mercy of increasingly stricter and contradictory pandemic restrictions from a certain party-going, blabber-mouthed, blonde mop-head (the reader is permitted to insert any number of seething pejoratives as they see fit.) What the internet expected to be a return to the normality of the 2010’s, an album release from a staple artist, ended up being the most outlandishly abrasive and confrontational development in mainstream rap since Kanye’s “Yeezus”. Chaos ensued and “Whole Lotta Red” a bona-fide cult classic was born. 

Cut to some 4 years later, with sold-out world tours, chart-topping songs and a record label under his name, the mythos of Playboi Carti has reached its greatest heights yet. He helped give rise to a new sound, spawned a resurgence in the internet underground. Inspiring every cringe and chronically-online suburban teen with access to a cracked version of FL studio to make a SoundCloud account, change their Instagram bio to “artist” and post low-exposure, all-black fit pics transposed in front of graffitied walls - all in the name of the religion of “Opium,” or more-recently, “YVL.” 

What’s impressive most though is that Carti managed to make his fanbase relish in his deceptiveness, his seemingly effortless but intentionally crafted “aura.” Through sparse releases of singles, snippets and music video snapshots on select platforms like Instagram or occasionally YouTube with otherwise cryptic posts containing false release dates and album cover concepts, he has artificially increased the demand for his music. His relationship with his desperate fanbase, eager to get their hands on it through hacked hard-drives or unreleased snippets and low-resolution recordings requiring fan-made remasterings, is a completely toxic one. Carti can only be described, which he himself has numerous times, as a narcissist. Intent on extorting the maximal amount of attention and reverence with the minimal amount of effort, as evidenced by the almost-comically simplistic cover of his recent rollout “IAMMUSIC,” demonstrating the pinnacle of his ego, or self-delusion.

There’s no question that hip-hop music is in a creative and qualitative drought, with relatively lower sales and fewer and fewer instances of true innovation in the mainstream. Carti’s releases are teasing us with a potential remedy. Perhaps the frustration directed at him is merely a symptom of the modern age? Our incessant desire for more, the constant accessibility of much-worshipped celebrities, as well as the availability of art in all its myriad forms, inflates our expectations for the few things we are deprived of. So does Carti actually owe his fans anything more? Or is the characteristic cocktail of neglect and aloofness he keeps feeding them exactly what their insecure attachment styles desire. Are we genuinely being sold a dream of artistic genius - a modern-day rap revival vis-a-vis 2020 - in a time of utmost need when the industry offers only lukewarm, unsatisfying alternatives to artistry. Merely designed to soundtrack short-form clips and dance trends that feed the algorithmic beast and end up perpetually played for radio and retail stores nationwide. 

The truth may be that the mystique that Carti so carefully cultivates is in fact simply a gleaming veneer designed to cover a bitter and limp mediocrity that fails to hold its weight under the harsh lens of criticism. It’s no secret that his lyrical content is lacklustre and contrived, the allure of his music or fashion-sense have lost their sheen with comparisons of eerie similarity to numerous Atlanta artists like Future, Young Thug or Swedish artists, Bladee and Ecco2K. Moreover, Carti has faced a litany of allegations and scandals ranging from humorous body-cam police footage where he can be seen pleading with officers after being caught speeding, to more serious domestic abuse claims and involvement with gang-violence. It serves as a bitter reminder that the idealised veneration of artists promoted online by artists and their PR teams, can be dangerous. It blinds the over-zealous audience to the reality that those they idolise most and elevate to the status of esteemed and acclaimed stars will inevitably fail to fulfil their expectations. 

Who would’ve thought that in seeking redress for our woes, the musical output of Playboi Carti offers us no solace. Perhaps it points to a deeper feeling of inadequacy in the culture. One requiring the sort of self-reflection almost untenable in the internet age. Where Gen-Z is perpetually and collectively under the tyranny of the screen - both simultaneously the bane, as well as the great blessing of our time. 

Having said all that, I will be tuning into Carti’s new album, if and when it does release, and will almost certainly be looking for tickets for his next concerts. (The reader is directed to get into contact with the magazine if they have any insider information or connections and access to discounted ticket prices.)