In a “genre-fluid” world, why is genre categorization still such a high-stakes business?

Music genres have long been a catch-all distinction to communicate specific styles and fan norms to a broader audience, as well as to forecast an artist’s potential for commercial success. Generally speaking, the motivation behind music taxonomy is rooted less in any notion of factual accuracy, and more in effective segmentation that introduces consumers to more artists that they might enjoy.

Hence, regardless of how “genre-fluid” or “genre-bending” artists and fans are today, genre categorization remains an essential activity in the music business with far-reaching commercial effects. It’s also more complex than ever, making it imperative to examine the many purposes it serves today and its effects on artists’ careers.

The goal of this piece is to understand not only the current state of music taxonomy — from traditional industry gatekeepers to the evolving role of data — but also the commercial implications an artist may endure if they are inaccurately categorized.

Streaming services shift the influence of genre — sort of

Ever since the Renaissance period in the 1400s when Western music was first identified as “classical,” much of music classification has been composed of genres (e.g. R&B, rock, house, pop), occasionally with geographic modifiers (e.g. South African House, UK rap). Historically, this approach worked well because it was universally adopted in a world of broadcast media and mass communication. Many constituents in the music industry, including radio stations, record labels and media outlets, adhered to and were active gatekeepers of this system in a more top-down manner. Given that consumers at the time were not as savvy about the industry in the way that stans are today, they naturally fell in line.

In contrast, in the wake of streaming, music categorization has largely shifted from being label-dictated to audience-dictated.

As streaming platforms compete to have the best systems for analyzing and predicting their users’ individual listening habits, a more universal, mass-market music taxonomy has become less relevant. Pandora was the first major internet radio service to ingrain categorization into its competitive moat in the early 2000s, with its sprawling Music Genome Project. Dozens of in-house music analysts manually combed through millions of songs, coding them for over 400 different sonic characteristics like chord progressions, tempo, instrumentation and melodic qualities.

This work helped pave the way for today’s music-streaming market leaders such as Spotify, which takes a much more holistic approach to music categorization. Much of Spotify’s current recommendation system is driven not just by the songs’ audio characteristics, but also by more contextual factors such as time of day and similar fans’ tastes. This has led to over 5,000 micro-genres that Spotify tracks internally, in order to fine-tune its recommendations at a level that no other streaming service has been able to replicate. As Gen-Z music fans exhibit increasingly genre-fluid listening habits, Spotify has also responded with flagship playlist brands like Lorem and Pollen that amplify and celebrate hybrid musical aesthetics, rather than being tied down to traditional genre categories.

Another fascinating byproduct of the rise of music-tech platforms is that artists, fans and critics have co-opted these very platforms into bonafide subgenres (“SoundCloud rap,” “TikTok hits,” “Spotifycore”). For as long as the recorded-music industry has existed, artists and labels have molded their creative output to the technological formats of the time; today is no different, whereby an artist’s popularity on a given app implies a predefined notion about that artist’s style, fan base and ultimate potential for success. Interestingly, the platforms themselves usually don’t officially endorse these eponymous genre names, instead recognizing the power of their audiences and letting them keep up their momentum.

Even still, there remains a tension between how tech platforms dictate and enforce data-driven “genres” in a top-down manner, and how artists and fans organically categorize their music bottom-up.

For instance, most of Spotify’s micro-genres are invisible to artists and listeners, with the exception of surprise appearances on year-end Spotify Wrapped campaigns without much context. This can end up feeling confusing and arbitrary; e.g. some fans thought they were just listening to pop or R&B in 2020, when really what Spotify thought were their top genres were “antiviral pop” and “escape room.”

The recent rise of “hyperpop” — which reflects a mostly underground community of electronic and hip-hop artists on SoundCloud, but many sources agree was coined first by an official Spotify playlist — also highlights the tensions between organic creative collaborations and the need for corporations to define markets top-down for the sake of selling their own products. Many artists who might not have otherwise called themselves “hyperpop” artists now openly associate themselves with the term, in part to maximize playlist placement opportunities and make their music more legible to wider audiences. Hence, while Spotify may be at the forefront of new music genre creation, in the process they have also become a new gatekeeper.

“Fixing” traditional genres doesn’t get at the heart of the problem

Meanwhile, outside of streaming services, incumbent music companies like major labels and legacy awards shows like the Grammys are still grappling with a much more old-school tension between industry- and audience-dictated approaches to music taxonomy.

For instance, “urban” as a genre and awards category has been contentious for years. The term was coined in the 1970s by a Black radio DJ, Frankie Crocker, to reflect a diverse range of Black musical styles ranging from disco to hip-hop and R&B. In his 2012 book The Tanning of America: How Hip-Hop Created a Culture That Rewrote the Rules of the New Economy, veteran marketing executive Steve Stoute clarified his intent behind using the word “urban” in his book, stating that “our aim is to speak to [population] density and not to make reference to race or creed.” But in recent years, some critics and artists like Tyler, The Creator have claimed that “urban” has morphed into an excuse to box Black artists and executives out of mainstream media recognition and/or equitable treatment by the industry as a whole.

Amidst the 2020 Black Lives Matter protests in response to the murders of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor and Ahmaud Arbery, multiple music corporations reexamined their historical practices, including but not limited to the use of the word “urban.” The result, however, has been inconsistent at best. In June 2020, Republic Records did officially remove “urban” from its marketing and operations verbiage, and the Grammys did rename their Best Urban Contemporary Album category to Best Progressive R&B album. But virtually no other major music company followed suit — and the Grammys still have a separate “Best Latin Pop or Urban Album” award, which some have argued are cutting Latin urbano artists like Bad Bunny and Maluma out of the main award categories.

Five months later, in November 2020, the Grammys changed their “Best World Music” category to “Best Global Music.”  The phrase “world music” has also been contentious for decades for its colonialist undertones, and for its perceived role in siloing artists outside of the US and Europe from mainstream music opportunities. In a statement, Marlon Fuentes, Genre Manager, Global Music, New Age and Contemporary Instrumental at the Recording Academy, said that the name change from “world” to “global” reflects how music culture is increasingly “borderless” and allows the Academy “to hit a reset button on how we view each other … to have a better conversation about who we are and where we’re headed.”

That said, in an era where non-English-speaking acts like Bad Bunny, BTS and Davido regularly top social and consumption charts, and when artists like Kali Uchis and Selena Gomez are increasingly releasing non-English albums, one could make the argument that modern-day pop music is “global” music, and that drawing a line between the two in a top-down manner still maintains the very borders that the Academy claims are no longer there.

Genre hierarchies reinforce myopic views of artists’ potential

Even in a supposedly “borderless” world, it’s easy to underestimate the effects that these kinds of genre categorizations can have on a given artist. Maggie Rogers has claimed that in a genre-fluid creative landscape, the concept of genre “is just used to sell music” — i.e. it has primarily commercial rather than creative motivations. An unfortunate reality that follows is that the initial genre in which record labels, tech platforms and awards shows place artists correlates directly with their potential for commercial success.

This predicament is in no way a reflection of talent, but rather is an ingrained mentality predicated on a genre hierarchy that the commercial music industry has reinforced since its inception.

While labels are expanding their strategies at a rapid pace by signing more artists across various genres and geographies, they ultimately focus their resources on the artists they feel are best poised for success (i.e. “priority artists,” as they are often called internally). This approach is largely informed by the overall perceived consumer adoption of a given genre at a moment in time. Even if a label feels like the artist has the potential to be successful, they forecast a plateau predicated on the market potential for the genre rather than on the individual potential of the artist themselves.

One might think increased transparency in listening data might force music executives to reconsider traditional genre hierarchies to remain competitive in the market (e.g. in 2018, many were shocked to learn rap music was one of the most listened-to genres in the world). But even with the audience data that comes from streaming, some genres remain low on the totem pole when it comes to commercial priorities.

This is no clearer than in R&B, which cultural critics have recently claimed is facing both a “resurgence” and an “identity crisis.” Such a dichotomy is illuminating. A “resurgence” implies rising consumer interest, especially in artists who combine R&B fundamentals with other genres and styles such as hip-hop, funk and electronic music.

In contrast, while the “identity crisis” side of the conversation might not matter to genre-fluid consumers, it has led to consistent issues when it comes to commercial prioritization. In December 2020, Teyana Taylor informed her fans that her decision to retire as an artist largely stemmed from feeling unsupported by her label (Def Jam/G.O.O.D. Music). “I am going to feel under-appreciated if I’m putting in 110% and my label is giving me — they’re reciprocating, what, 10% of that?” Taylor claimed in an Instagram Live video. “The crazy part about it is I asked Def Jam to drop me on almost 10 different occasions, straight to their face, up in the building, at the table. Like, ‘Yo, just drop me, because at this point, I can’t let this kill me.’” Coincidentally, this news arrived just days after Taylor expressed her discontent with the Recording Academy for not including any female artists in the nominees for Best R&B Album.

On the flip side, one month earlier, Justin Bieber called out the Recording Academy over their decision not to nominate his album Changes as an R&B album, but instead to delegate him to the pop category. “Changes was and is an R&B album. It is not being acknowledged as an R&B album which is very strange to me,” Bieber wrote in an official letter following the announcement of the 2020 Grammy nominations. “… For this not to be put into that category feels weird considering from the chords to the melodies to the vocal style all the way down to the hip hop drums that were chosen it is undeniably, unmistakably an R&B Album! To be clear I absolutely love Pop music it just wasn’t what I set out to make this time around.” (A year prior, Bieber had also tried, and failed, to trademark the phrase “R&Bieber.”)

One could infer that given Bieber’s popularity as an artist, the industry could not even fathom his music being defined as anything other than ”pop music.” While a seemingly small miscategorization, these decisions continue to reinforce the industry’s existing genre hierarchy, which consequently influences how labels prioritize different artists. By not categorizing Changes as R&B, the Academy is quietly implying that R&B is not as appropriate a categorization as pop for someone of Bieber’s stature, therefore upholding a notion that R&B is not as important or does not carry as much cultural weight.

Beyond Bieber, we have seen many other artists challenge the industry for lacking a “true” understanding of certain genres. Every hip-hop aficionado can vividly recall the 2014 Grammys upset when Macklemore won the Grammy for Best Rap Album over Kendrick Lamar. Macklemore’s post-win actions demonstrated his desire to show his followers that even though Lamar should have won, he himself still understood and respected the lyrical fundamentals on which the hip-hop genre is based. These kinds of events suggest, somewhat ironically, that for every artist who calls out the limitations of traditional genre classifications, there’s another artist who is actually fighting for their place in a more traditional taxonomy, because the stakes are so high.

How the industry is adapting: Niche domain expertise and direct fan relationships

In a 2020 cover story, Billboard highlighted the growing musical revolution in Africa, featuring interviews with Davido, Tiwa Savage and Mr. Eazi. What’s fascinating about their conversation is that while all three artists are sonically different, they each expressed similar frustrations with respect to the mainstream music industry’s shallow understanding of the African continent and its many genres, and how that hinders their full potential for commercial success:

I really had to put it in [the label’s] head that the sound I was talking about was the sound that was going to pop, not the sound the guys there were trying to make us do. [Davido]

“I think labels still don’t quite understand how to sell Afrobeats. And they haven’t really put their machinery behind the genre yet … We already come with huge followings. I look forward to when we’ll be on the same playlists as Billie Eilish or Justin Bieber. Give us that kind of global campaign — treat Afrobeats like a pop record and not a tastemaker record or something that cool urban kids in the diaspora listen to. How often do you see an American artist get signed and he or she already has 5 million followers on their own?” [Tiwa Savage]

But this just shows that music is different everywhere in Africa. I don’t think there has been a proper profile yet of what’s happening on the continent. [Mr. Eazi]

If this lack of support and domain expertise for certain artists persists within major labels, the global music industry will give rise to a new type of professional — one with highly specific and niche skill sets to help artists from particular geographies during different stages of their careers.

In this climate, where audiences have unprecedented influence over the way artists break and get categorized, it is no longer enough to have “genre expertise.” Such a notion is arguably in danger of reinforcing top-down categorization practices that, as discussed above, can significantly limit artists’ creative freedom and commercial potential in today’s music consumption landscape. Instead, stylistic and creative knowledge must be combined with geography-level and platform-level expertise for a true winning combination.

Requests will only continue to rise for professionals who can assist with geography- and platform-specific go-to-market strategies — e.g. for a U.S. hip-hop artist seeking to expand their fan base on digital streaming platforms in Africa, or a Latin-based pop artist seeking to increase their presence on the top livestreaming platforms in the United States.

As music categorization only becomes more complex, we will continue to witness artists who embrace and understand the need for categorization, while not letting it define or put barriers on the music they make. Perhaps the biggest safety net that artists can have against unwarranted, top-down genre categorization is owning their relationships with their fans. Doing so will allow fan bases to understand and appreciate an artist’s ability to authentically diversify the type of music that they make, even if not every type of an artist’s music is for them. This dynamic, coupled with savvier and more nuanced music-industry professionals, breeds the perfect environment for artists to effervescently float from one genre to the next.

Unfortunately, this evolution will most likely always find incumbent labels and awards shows lagging behind. Which is actually okay, because Drake said it best as he accepted his 2018 Grammy’s speech:

“This is a business where sometimes it’s up to a bunch of people who might not understand what a mixed race kid from Canada has to say or a fly Spanish girl from New York or anybody else, or a brother from Houston right there, my brother Travis [Scott]. But my point is you’ve already won if you have people singing your songs word for word, if you’re a hero in your hometown. Look, if there’s people who have regular jobs who are coming out in the rain, in the snow, spending their hard earned money to buy tickets to come to your shows, you don’t need this right here [points to Grammy]. I promise you, you already won.”