"Rhythm + Flow" Proves Netflix Is Done With Niche

While Netflix is a certainly a household name, and has captured mainstream media attention as one of the world’s largest on-demand video-streaming services, its early strategy actually relied heavily on catering to niche, edge tastes.

Amanda Lotz, a professor at the University of Michigan, refers to this approach as the “conglomerated niche.” Writing for Quartz in 2017, Lotz explains that “each show [on Netflix] doesn’t need a mass audience — which is the measure of success for advertiser-funded television.” Instead, the greenlit programs on Netflix each cater to one of potentially dozens of different kinds of audience interests — everything from glassblowing, to food and nature documentaries, to crime dramas, to now hip-hop shows.

“There is no one Netflix,” continues Lotz. “Rather, think of it as an expansive library with many small nooks and rooms. Most subscribers never wander floor to floor. Instead, they stay in the corner that matches their tastes.”

(This actually sounds a lot like what Spotify does to our music consumption habits: thanks to a myriad of personalization channels like Discovery Weekly, Release Radar and Daily Mixes, we stay in our own listening rooms.)

Reality TV, however, might be dragging Netflix away from its niche sensibilities — and there was one moment in Rhythm + Flow that made this shift loud and clear to me.

Around 35 minutes into the Chicago Auditions episode — which features Chance the Rapper, Royce da 5’9″ and Twista as judges — an 18-year-old named Yung Water (pictured above) arrives onstage, donning light-pink hair and a baby-doll head dangling at the bottom of a chain around his neck. His delivery was quick and raspy, and featured demonic references in his lyrics. In other words, his persona was a typical emo, SoundCloud-rapper type, jumping on a bubbling and understandably controversial pattern of “Satanic rap” that’s punctuated the mainstream.

I laughed out loud when Royce whispered “That’s like a niche, underground thing” to Chance during Yung Water’s performance, as if to alleviate any confusion or fear. But then I was so surprised when Royce expanded on that initial thought in his official feedback to the contestant after the fact:

“I don’t know if you’re the type of artist that should be in competitions, honestly. I could you see you blowing up really big and only having a certain type of people at your shows. It’s almost like you’re doing yourself a disservice by trying to appeal to everybody. I think you’ll be the best just by being yourself.”

At first, I was so surprised by Royce’s comments, because I interpreted it as an argument that SoundCloud rap — a scene and style that likely still attracts dozens of millions of streams every month, and has captured the zeitgeist of younger generations of up-and-coming rappers and artists — was not worthy of a mainstream platform.

But after some more reflection, I realized that that comment only reinforced that Netflix was not trying to appeal to indie or underground music artists or fans with this show. As I wrote in my previous piece on Rhythm + Flow, Netflix is investing more in reality-TV programming in general because it’s a cheaper way to reach mass-market audiences, which are important to capture in order to compete with incumbent broadcast networks. Those efforts will be thwarted if Netflix brings on contestants that can’t speak to popular preferences and universally-shared themes.

This is actually a stance that Cardi B took several times throughout the show: You can be a unique and interesting MC, but if you can’t make hits and sell records to the masses, you’re not for us. That’s as commercial of an angle as you can get.

Netflix Is Becoming Its Own Commentator

Aside from revealing Netflix’s mass-market ambitions, Rhythm + Flow also shows us that Netflix wants to become its own commentator and its own media channel.

The clearest evidence of this is Rhythm + Flow: The Aftershow, an adjacent series that brings on respected artists, curators and journalists to discuss the latest developments in the show. The inaugural Aftershow, released on October 11, features Twista, Ivie Ani, and DJ Hed talking with host Scottie Beam over the course of 30 minutes about their thoughts on the show’s first four episodes, and what they revealed about the current state of hip-hop (pictured above).

Normally, film and TV studios are OK with leaving reviews and criticism to third-party publications and media channels. But for Netflix to take on that responsibility, role and public narrative-building themselves is a bold, aggressive move. As expected, it’s also highly biased: not even six minutes into the conversation, Scottie gets all the guests to admit that Netflix “did things right” with the show. 🙄

The best, objective criticism will still come from third-party sources, of course. But Netflix’s self-commentary and cultivation of its own media platform mirrors what musicians, NBA stars and other celebrities have already done for years: bypassing media gatekeepers to break news themselves on social platforms like Instagram, Twitter and Snapchat, and connect with fans and audiences more directly.

It also parallels how I’m following Rhythm + Flow more for the meta-commentary on the state of modern hip-hop than for the actual show itself. Funnily enough, Netflix itself might be doing the same.