Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times

It's hard for anyone to match the star power of Frank Ocean—even Drake.

When Tyler, the Creator promised a surprise headliner Sunday night at Camp Flog Gnaw, rumors spread that Ocean would take the stage. But when it was time to reveal the guest of honor, Drake appeared, and was promptly welcomed by a sea of boos and chants of "We want Frank." "If you want to keep going, I will keep going tonight," Drake said about 20 minutes into his performance, although the majority of the crowd was dismissive. "I love y'all. I go by the name of Drake. Thank y'all for having me," he said as he exited, clearly dejected.

What does it mean for the state of music fandom today that Drake, inarguably one of the decade's most successful artists, can get booed off stage at a hip-hop festival? Have listeners grown bored and underwhelmed by Drizzy in the same way Kanye West's most recent projects have failed to pique lasting general interest? Of course, Drake and West differ in many ways—one is considerably more problematic—but their places in the rap canon also boast a few parallels: Both grew massively popular on similar timelines, and it's safe to say the peaks of both of their careers have come and gone. In terms of hip-hop, younger fans tend to turn to artists like Tyler, the Creator, Frank Ocean, and even Brockhampton—artists who, like pop experimentalist Charli XCX, exist in the overlap between mainstream popularity and left-field stylistic approaches.

It makes sense that, especially at a festival so integral to Tyler, the Creator's personal brand of alternative rap, fans would plead for Ocean over Drake. Even in his notably reclusive fame, Ocean still maintains a degree of relatability that Drake's stardom has stripped him of. Another factor is how often Ocean performs (or, rather, how rarely he does); name a festival, and Drake has likely headlined it before, while Ocean has become somewhat infamous for cancelling tours and festival appearances.

So, was the crowd at Camp Flog Gnaw overly optimistic for expecting Sunday night to bring a long-awaited appearance from the mastermind behind Blonde? Absolutely. But the fact that the crowd booed the holder of nearly every record on the Billboard Hot 100 speaks to just how distant Drake has grown from the next iteration of rap fandom.

TV

Can We Please Stop Casting Bland White Guys as Lead Characters?

Netflix's "Daybreak" features its blandest character

Netflix's new series, Daybreak, sells itself as a post-apocalyptic teenage Rashomon (the Japanese classic told in divergent perspectives), with a sequence of characters in the trailer each claiming to be the real protagonist.

At its best, the show does capture some of this appeal. It almost makes up for the lack of believable dialogue, compelling world-building, or competent portrayal of youth culture by having a diverse array of vibrant characters—like Wesley Fist, the gay black samurai whose story is narrated by Wu Tang's RZA. But ultimately, the claim that these characters have equal weight is undermined by the show's insistent focus on Colin Ford as "just Josh."

He's the bland white guy at the center of the story, because that's something Netflix thinks we need. Prior to the apocalypse, he was just a C-student, a recent transfer from Toronto who claimed to only like food from The Cheesecake Factory. He's continually mistaken for "tennis Josh, little Josh with the big truck, gay Josh, and other gay Josh," to which his friends respond that he's "just Josh." His love interest, Sam Dean (a deliberate nod to Colin Ford's stint on Supernatural?) describes him as "terrifically uncomplicated."

After the bombs drop and all the adults are wiped out, Josh's wilderness skills make him a hot commodity, but it all just reads as an excuse to cast the blandest possible white guy and force all the more interesting characters into orbit around him.

As a bland white boy myself, can we please just stop?

There's no need to plaster on a confused approximation of wokeness (no, Daybreak, you can't say "Todd Altman self-identifies his gender as a seahorse" in a hip, accepting way…) and qualify your main character's bland whiteness by saying "but he's supposed to be boring!" What you can do is skip all that by ditching the bland white guy character in the first place.

While Sam Dean—a blonde, sex-positive Pollyanna with an English accent and a heavy dose of damsel in distress—is a shade more interesting than "just Josh," they could both be removed from the show without losing much value. But nope. Daybreak makes them the center of the whole world.

I mean, there's a turf war for control of hellscape-LA, with cliquish tribes—a la The Warriors—all vying for power. That's pretty fun. And, oh boy! There are even a handful of novel, dynamic characters who are engaging enough to warrant a focus in that unfolding war. Yay! But no. The show insists that Josh's quest to rescue Sam is the really important story.

Why? Josh just sucks. He feels bad that, pre-apocalypse, he called Sam a sl*t, and he wants to save her so he can win her back. Why should we root for that? He called her a sl*t because she's too cool for him—and she's barely cool. He's the blandest flavor of cottage cheese in a toxic-masculine shell. Even if Colin Ford delivered a stellar performance, it's hard to see how this sh*tty character would be salvageable, let alone worthy of the central role. And Colin Ford is faaaar from stellar...

So, Netflix. Do better. You seem to have the freedom to green-light whatever you want, so why keep centering your stories on the same lame characters? Why is a WASPy half-nerd white guy still the default? Speaking on behalf of us all, even we're bored of us by now.

MUSIC

Is Future Problematic? A Look at One of Rap's Most Successful Misogynists

As the rapper’s latest baby mama drama unfolds, it’s time to hold Future accountable

Future - Nayvadius DeMun Wilburn Festival d'ete de Quebec - Jul 2018

Photo by Rmv/Shutterstock

Let's face it: It might be time to cancel Future.

Nayvadius Wilburn, otherwise known as the Atlanta trap icon Future, has historically had trouble taking personal responsibility for his actions.

For one, while he's always been frank about his battles with addiction, he's claimed to be (somehow) unaware of his music's influence on young kids.

Yet up-and-coming rapper Juice WRLD, who recorded a collaborative project with Future last year, admitted that the Atlanta rapper inspired him to start sipping cough syrup when he was in middle school. "When he told me that, I was like, 'Oh sh*t. What the f*ck have I done?" Future recently told Rolling Stone. "I didn't think I'd care about that stuff. Four years ago, I probably wouldn't have cared if he told me." Juice WRLD claimed Future "kind of apologized."

In a separate interview with Genius, Future admitted that he had actually stopped drinking cough syrup but remained mute on his sobriety out of fear that his fans would stop "loving him" if they knew he was sober. He mentioned that certain people in his inner circle pressured him to continue to use drugs and party. "The people around you are chasing the high so they want you to continue to chase that same high," he said.

Both the interviews came prior to the January release of his latest studio album, Future Hndrxx Presents: The WIZRD, and they seemed to represent a dramatic shift in tone for the rapper. However, listening to the album, that growth and sense of responsibility were suddenly absent. "I'm too rich to be sober," he sings on "Overdose," "got the whole world taking Xan's"; he turns a hint of regret into a braggadocio statement. He describes on "Unicorn Purp" how he's "on that purp like a unicorn."

But both fans and critics were rather forgiving of these discrepancies, suggesting that this album was the end of the old Future. "I think this is the ending of Future that we once knew," said Rory on The Joe Budden Podcast. "It did feel that way. I think the content is changing now."

But Budden wasn't as forgiving, reminding listeners of his other discrepancies.

After acknowledging the rapper's hypocritical attitude toward drug use, Budden went on to address other hypocrisies that Future's faced and failed to address. In an interview with Beats 1, Future claimed that his ex-wife, Ciara, introduced their kid to her new husband, Russel Wilson, before "she allowed Wilson and Future to meet." "He do exactly what she tell him to do," Future said, mentioning that Wilson should be a "man" and forbid Ciara from even mentioning his name in public. "If that was me, she couldn't even bring his name up. She know that. She couldn't even bring her exes' names up...don't give that sh*t no energy."

"Why does he keep telling us how everybody else should be behaving?" Budden said of the interview. "And all of it is to benefit him," his co-host Rory added. Budden went on to say that he doesn't respect Future as a man: "In real life, we ain't see no maturation from Future!" When asked for a response, Future said candidly, "I don't f*ck with Joe Budden." He added, "He got a badass bitch though."

The latter comment falls in line with how the rapper has historically objectified women.

He has historically denied culpability when it comes to mistreating his sexual partners. Future and Ciara have been at each other's throats since 2015 in what has been a very public post-breakup feud. The soon-to-be newlyweds called it quits after Ciara discovered that the rapper had been sleeping with his wardrobe consultant. Future denied the allegations, claiming he was the one to call it quits and that he just stuck it out because he felt embarrassed for her.

Since then, the two have had a tumultuous back and forth. Future has bad-mouthed his ex on social media multiple times, allegedly costing Ciara an endorsement deal in the process. Future's public airing out of his frustrations has also inspired fans to be equally vicious, continuously coming to the rapper's defense to attack Ciara and her new husband.

While Ciara and Future share custody of their kid together, the rapper has five additional baby mamas, with a sixth stepping forward this week. Eliza Reign, the latest to have a child by the rapper, alleged that she initially received death threats after deciding to keep the baby; and since the little girl's birth, she's been unable to get in contact with Future.

He's body-shamed and degraded his female fans.

Future's toxic behavior has hardly tainted his legacy as an artist, but there have been enough instances to warrant severe criticism. Back in March, rumors started to fly that Future wouldn't allow "fattie" women to enter a club he was performing at in Miami. He denied the allegations, saying, "I love all women." He additionally came under scrutiny in 2017 when he said on Twitter that his "kids gotta make a sacrifice" for having a superstar dad. The statement came a year after one of his baby mamas sued him for "emotional neglect" of their son, citing that the child has "emotional and behavioral issues" as a result of Future's bad parenting.

A few months after the release of WIZRD, Future announced the release of a surprise EP called SAVE ME. The EP, which critics have derided as his most thematically stifling, attempted to paint a more sympathetic narrative of the artist. "I only call you when I'm faded / Your arms around me, come and save me," he sings on "Xanax Damage," referring to his continued Xanax abuse. "I've been possessed, they wanna take my soul," he sings on "Love Thy Enemies." "Save my flesh, I'm in need of your love."

Future clearly sees himself as a creative martyr, as someone who's sacrificed his health and happiness in order to create great art and keep his fans. But even in his darkest and most vulnerable moments, obnoxious lyrics like, "I'm gettin' cocky, treat a good girl like she ran down / Catch an attitude I'ma go and f*ck your friend now," squash any empathy one could have for the 35-year-old. While he attempts to paint himself as a lost soul in need of guidance, the #MeToo movement has proven that misogynistic men will do anything to frame themselves as victims in order to ultimately direct attention away from those who have suffered as a result of their ignorance.

Future hasn't matured; he's just changed his narrative. In January, when asked for his opinion on the downfall of R. Kelly, Future said: "When you give things too much attention, they blow up...stop talking about it, it'll go away." That bit of advice seems to be Future's calling card, and while ignorance is clearly bliss in the Hip-Hop community, at what point are we going to start holding our favorite artists to a higher standard?

Facing allegations of cultural appropriation, Miley Cyrus took to Instagram in 2017 to clear the air about her comments surrounding Hip-Hop.

"At this point in my life, I am expanding personally/musically and gravitating towards uplifting, conscious rap," she wrote. "As I get older I understand the effect music has on the world & seeing where we are today I feel the younger generation needs to hear positive powerful lyrics!"

On "Unholy," a two-minute cut from Cyrus's latest EP SHE IS COMING, she sings: "I'm a little drunk, I know it. Imma get high as hell. I'm a little bit unholy. So what? So is everyone else." On "D.R.E.A.M," Cyrus calls out: "Hit the ghost, raise a toast / Pop the molly, drugs rule everything around me." Later in the song, Ghostface Killah makes an awkward appearance and raps: "Purple Perc, sticky green Mollies, sipping lean, got the white that's sure to light the floor like in 'Billie Jean.'"

It's not uncommon for Miley to say one thing and do another. She has often labeled herself as someone who "can't be tamed," and that assessment has only been somewhat accurate. In 2009, Cyrus and some friends were seen slanting their eyes in a gesture that typically mocks Asian people. Groups like The Organization of Chinese Americans demanded an apology, but Cyrus refused until the blowback became too intense (she finally stated that the whole scandal was a valid "learning experience"). During a performance of her song "We Can't Stop" at the 2013 MTV VMAs, she stripped down to a nude latex bra and panty set and twerked on misogynist shit-bird Robin Thicke. After being additionally criticized for using black dancers as accessories during the performance, she told Rolling Stone: “those aren't my accessories. They're my homies." Shortly after her Bangerz tour wrapped up–each performance on the tour included scenes of mock orgies and inflatable penises–Miley gave a controversial interview with Billboard, wherein she dismissed hip-hop as misogynistic, despite her direct appropriation of the genre.

Later in the interview, Miley insisted that her Bangerz follow-up would be country influenced and more family-friendly. 2017's Younger Now kept that promise. Country-infused and devoid of hip-hop influence, her record went on to sell only 45,000 copies it's first weekand was derided by critics as being "lifeless" and an uninspired attempt at reinvention. "[It's] too soon to know whether this, finally, is the 'real' Miley standing up," wrote The Guardian. It's clear now that her return to hip-hop was all but inevitable after Younger Now's flop. After all, it's been proven time and time again that Miley is desperate to remain famous.

Yet the main issue with SHE IS COMING is that it's equally as uninspired as Younger Now. "Party Up the Street" is stiff and lifeless, with Swae Lee sounding lost and confused as he stumbles through his verse: "You can see our feet from the street since the garage was halfway open," he sings breathily. "The Most" is a flaccid love song that attempts to justify Miley's toxic behavior towards her now-husband Liam Hemsworth. "How many times have I left you in the deep?" she sings in closing, "I don't know why you still believe in me." The issue with believing and trusting in Miley Cyrus is that more often than not–as Liam Hemsworth can attest–she's going to break your heart. Everything she does is always for Miley's gain, and while fans will view her IDGAF behavior as its own form of feminism, it's hard to look past the selfish nature of it all.

SHE IS COMING is destined to conquer the radio, but it also plays like a requiem for Cyrus' individuality. It seems that the "real" Miley will remain a mystery to everyone, including herself.