At a short political lecture during a public relations event at the Annenberg School for Communication and Journalism this week, an Annenberg professor stressed to listeners that politics are downstream from culture. In my view, you can make the argument both ways, and tracking exactly what is downstream can be tough — as culture often reacts to politics. See the technological advancements of the 1960s reflected in David Bowie’s “Space Oddity” and “Starman,” Radiohead and the Chicks’ reactions to the invasion of Iraq, Taylor Swift’s feminism or the abstract, nihilistic qualities of mumble rap exploding during Donald Trump’s time in office. Modern hip-hop has since been dethroned as the number one commercially viable genre by country. Last week’s Billboard 200 only has one hip-hop entry in the top 10; Future — followed by sparse high entries from Eminem, Travis Scott and Drake further down the chart. The Hot 100 is a similar story.

My reckoning with country music swiftly becoming pervasive, aesthetically influential and commercially successful happened right after the pandemic. A colleague of mine showed me Orville Peck’s music and proceeded to explain to me the authenticity of Stagecoach in contrast to Coachella. Despite not really having been a fan of country before, I instantly understood the hype and started digging into the Morgan Wallens and Lainey Wilsons, plus the back catalog of Taylor Swift’s discography out of strong curiosity. 

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A hip-hop head at heart, I had become disinterested in the genre due to the complacency of its pioneers, guilty of barely pushing the genre forward, with many of its giants either releasing way too much music on autopilot mode (Drake), not releasing music often enough (Kendrick Lamar) or staying dangerously within the comfort zone (most rappers).

The reason why hip-hop music was dominant in music for so long is partly because of its capacity for genre-bending experimentation — similar to rock music — combined with its lyrically driven nature. It lends to tackling complex subject matters. Racial struggles are part of what shaped hip-hop at its core. But the genre also allows for wonderfully creative ways to tackle other human experiences and issues, such as mental health and substance abuse. 

The appeal of country music, in contrast to hip-hop, possibly lies in the country genre’s rejection of genre-bending, emphasis on tradition and lack of potential for drug-infused psychedelic experimentation. To put it bluntly, after four years of Trump and two years of the coronavirus pandemic, people became sick of artists tackling serious, darker issues and wanted something more comforting. Country provided a safe, nostalgic blanket, not only for Americans, but even for Europeans, despite their relationship to the country being less close to home. 

It’s possible that the culture became sick of hip-hop’s complex concept albums, the life-or-death urgency and violence associated with gangster rap and even its drug-induced nihilism — which no doubt is one of the reasons so many of modern rap’s icons passed away way too early.

Not to mention, after all this, we’ve landed in a world where society continually appears to be on the cusp of great upheaval at the hands of artificial intelligence and virtual reality technology. Yet, nobody seems excited about it. 

Enter summer 2024. Country has peaked, with Zach Bryan, Luke Combs and Taylor Swift’s best work likely behind them. It is a sad day when the indicator of something peaked is Beyoncé jumping on the trend to sell Levi’s jeans. 

Instead, we’ve seen Sabrina Carpenter and Chappell Roan, two very different artists, appease an insatiable appetite for female-driven pop, plus a club and hyperpop-infused intermission from Charli xcx. Their success is strongly intertwined with Gen Z’s media-savviness and obsession with authenticity, which plays a crucial role in the success or failure of new efforts from artists, such as the panning of the latest album from Katy Perry or YouTuber KSI’s latest single for being out of touch. 

While the current appetite for more traditional-leaning pop may indicate a continued desire for less serious music, these trends emerge shrouded in a fog of undecidedness. What is next for the industry? Is past hip-hop banished to millennial uncoolness? And new hip-hop left to starve in the underground? Is country, similarly, on its way out, its glory days behind it -– and is pop the new dominant genre? Would a Kamala Harris presidency strengthen the trend, or would a Donald Trump presidency? Or is this a full-on cultural intermission? Are we waiting for the next big trend? If so, where will it come from?