Comedy and Conversation

By BECK KENDIG ‘20

I love Lil Dicky; I love his humor, his variability, his confidence in his identity. Dicky knows he's not like other rappers: he knows he’s never been involved in gangs or committed a crime worse than “filling water cups up with a lot of coke” (Genius Lyrics). He knows he’s David Andrew Burd, a white guy from the suburbs of Cheltenham Township, and he owns it: in songs like “Professional Rapper,” “White Crime,” “Freaky Friday,” “$ave Dat Money,” and more, his normality drives the comedic aspect of the music. He makes fun of himself and proves his worth at the same time. His persona may not allow for lyrics about dealing drugs or rising to success from the streets, but it’s perfect for comedy. From the comforts of an upper-middle-class upbringing, Lil Dicky has achieved his dream of rapping professionally in a unique and genuine way.

Despite his popularity in the genre, some argue that Lil Dicky’s music isn’t real rap. A friend once told me that Dicky’s music “sounded like an overly funded SNL rap parody.” I didn’t agree, but I could see where he was coming from. Lil Dicky is not a typical rapper. His music is not typical rap. The concept of “realness,” however, raises a completely different question. In my opinion, “real rap” is a necessarily ambiguous term. Rap doesn’t follow an outline — it’s an ever changing genre that leaves space for pioneers: People like Kanye, Tyler the Creator, and Playboi Carti build their own definition of “real rap.” So why is Lil Dicky excluded? From lyrics to instrumentals to flow, Carti sounds nothing like the old-school greats. He and Tupac, for example, are different artists from different times, but they are both appreciated and renowned by the modern rap world. They are connected by the genre on a basis far stronger than violence and crime. So why can’t this same acceptance of talent be applied to Lil Dicky?

After explaining these thoughts to my friend, he clarified his argument. “Lil Dicky is just so hard to take seriously,” he said, and I didn’t have an answer for him. On one hand, I knew how emotionally charged and meaningful Dicky’s music can be (Listen to Molly, it’s a real tear-jerker). On the other, I knew the vast majority of LD’s songs make people laugh. But the humour is intentional; it’s his style, his niche. Is it possible then, to take LD seriously as a rapper?

Let’s look at this through one of his songs, with one of his more serious messages; around the week this conversation between my friend and I took place, Dicky dropped his latest single, Earth. With around thirty celebrity features and four million dollars worth of music video production, this release was a huge undertaking. Leading viewers on a beautifully animated tour of the world and its inhabitants, the Earth video serves as a message for global conservation. In his usual comedic style, Dicky calls for humanity to shift our attitude toward the planet, our planet. He emphasizes love, compassion, and an adherence to Leonardo DiCaprio’s environmentalist mindset. It’s Dicky’s version of a call to action.

Overall, I love the song and I love its message. But as I rewatch the video, I can’t help wonder if my friend was right. Lil Dicky is undeniably talented. He makes people laugh and his work demands a massive audience, but is he the right artist to push such important issues? Touching on pollution, war, and climate change, Earth builds on incredibly important topics of global discussion, but will the world see Lil Dicky’s career in comedic rap and roll their eyes at his message? Will they see Justin Bieber as a baboon talking about his anus (watch the video), and disregard the song’s meaning?

Lil Dicky may not be the most traditional or serious rapper in the industry, but he is passionate about the environment and can reach millions with his unique brand of music. So when my friend’s nagging voice pops into my head, I choose to be an optimist. The world is a big place, and I’m sure there are plenty of people out there who can laugh and listen at the same time.