R&B and Cyberpunk: A Story of Modernity
A deep dive into R&B's decades-long fascination with the aesthetics and sound of Cyberpunk
Gerald Nesmith
We’re in the year 2000, and it is a somewhat cool day in March. The hysteria and excitement of the new millennium is petering out and R&B’s crown Princess Aaliyah is taking the time to speak with MTV. Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails is interviewing Aaliyah; the conversation naturally turns to the new music she is working on and the coveted collaborations she has in mind for the future. Aaliyah went on to state an observation that undeniably sounded slightly odd to audiences at the time. During her chat with Treznor, she pointed out that her own instrumentals and especially the beats created by her long term collaborator Timbaland, was in fact sonically comparable to the musical production of Reznor’s Nine Inch Nails.
To paint the picture thoroughly, I need to explain that this era of R&B not only had a clear, solidified sound—there was a presumed socially stringent and well-defined categorization of the genre. Contextually, R&B was seen as ‘the love song’ genre that allowed artists of any gender to display feelings of aching longing, desperate desire and forlorn yearning. This was all over the sounds of striking harmonies and soaring romantic imagery. However, what it was not viewed as was the brooding and, at times, unnervingly mechanical sounds found in the discography of Trent Reznor’s Nine Inch Nails. If you haven’t heard any of their music—(first of all, congratulation on not having teenage angst and depression)—it has a sentient quality; it evokes and aurally encapsulates a pain that gnaws its way from the listener's ears and sears throughout their entire body.
Reznor’s music at the time was heavily coated in a sense of futuristic decay, which was reflected in the cover art of Nine Inch Nails legendary second album, ‘The Downward Spiral’. This project became the start of an industry-wide shift that saw more humanistic messaging in the midst of industrial soundscapes. The sound became a full-on artistic movement featuring acts like Rage Against the Machine, Deftones, and noted awful human being Marilyn Manson all going on to take the rock genre by storm. So, with these glaring differences, how is it that Aaliyah saw a kinship between her music and a genre that seems worlds away?` The answer to this lies in the massive scale of Aaliyah’s artistry. Each component of Aaliyah as an artist shows a level of craftsmanship firmly entrenched in futuristic imagery. Her songs, visuals, and sense of style are all informed by her gaze towards the new, the contemporary and what could be possible.
Unlike Reznor though, Aaliyah's interpolation of the future was expressed in a much more optimistic way. For Aaliyah and many Black artists of the time, being able to mold a future of their own was a much-needed reprieve from the non-stop barrage of harsh realities that was the 20th century. As Funk icon and innovator of this movement, George Clinton, put it, “I had to find another place where they hadn’t perceived Black people to be, and that was on a spaceship”. The expression of these feelings became an art movement known as Afrofuturism. This concept served as the building block to most of the idiosyncrasies we associate with the Y2K era.
The landscape of Popular culture at the turn of the millennium was incredibly varied but arguably was majorly influenced by Afrofuturism. The “futurism” side of Afrofuturism was incredibly inspired by the trajectory Science Fiction was heading towards. The idea of what the future could be became more existential as technology became a bigger part of daily life. Reality had largely caught up to the wildest dreams of writers and artists of the sixties and seventies, leaving many questioning where things could go next. These anxieties gave way to an entirely new movement within Sci-Fi known as Cyberpunk. This genre lives in a reality of neon lighting and black leather tech wear. Nevertheless, beyond those easily identifiable traits, it is a genre that attempts to define what it means to be human in an increasingly technological world.
If the description of this genre sounds familiar at all, then it should come as no surprise when I tell you all the aforementioned artists were linked to the most significant and most influential example of this genre—' The Matrix’ (1999). The cultural impact ‘The Matrix’ has had on modern-day society is undeniable- it was heralded as a cinematic landmark of the nineties. Nine Inch Nails was featured on the soundtrack of the iconic film, and Aaliyah, before her untimely death, was cast to star in the sequels' The Matrix Reloaded’ (in which she already filmed her scenes) and ‘The Matrix Revolution’. When it debuted in 1999, the movie became nearly inescapable, with endless references that extend even to today. The impact of Cyberpunk is not solely dependent on the success of ‘The Matrix’ but because of its ubiquity, it opened the door for artists outside of the expected demographic to embrace the look of a techno-dystopia, and R&B artists were beginning to be incorporated in this.
This beckoned a shift in the stringent categorization the genre was once confined to. The video for TLC’s ‘No Scrubs’ features a noticeable lack of guys' hanging out the passenger side of their best friend's ride’. It instead places the iconic group in a chrome-covered spaceship where they sing and dance in outfits that are obviously influenced by ‘The Matrix’. This was no fluke either. Janet Jackson would also have a few music videos with obvious cyberpunk parallels, one being the video for her track with Busta Rhymes 'What's It Gonna Be?!’ Another example is her duet with her brother Michael Jackson—’ Scream’, which features shots from another monumental work from the Cyberpunk realm, the 1988 film Akira. Akira has tremendously inspired artists worldwide (notably Kanye West) and captures the feelings of otherness both Janet and Michael were attempting to convey.
Most could look at these examples of artistic similarities and point out that they seem to be merely based on aesthetics or attempts to reference popular films of the time. However, the similarities also extend towards the sound of the genre.
This is where Aliyah’s observation comes into play. All of the songs that I listed were not considered any less R&B despite the sonic and aesthetic links the songs shared with Cyberpunk. Auditorily, each of the previously discussed tracks contained stylistic similarities reminiscent of the more harsh synth sounds found in the rock music I previously discussed. This is because both genres share common ancestors and influences, so much so that trying to separate who belongs to what genre becomes a fool's errand. It appears that what Aaliyah noticed that others had completely ignored was not simply a connection but something more. It turns out that when these two genres banged against each other in the minds of the musicians, they revealed a bond rooted in their shared histories.
Nonetheless, R&B and Cyberpunk had roles to play that seemed to drive a wedge in the connection. People wanted to hear the softer side of R&B more often and keep a vision of love alive that was more rooted in romance rather than existential dread. This kept the Cyberpunk influence largely at bay, and as time passed into the late 00s, the once beloved styles of Cyberpunk fell out of vogue. This was more than just a simple trend change in fashion. It was indicative of a larger shift away from thoughts of a dystopian future since what we could learn about the present and technology expanded with the advancement of social media. With this, the shared identity of Afrofuturism that was forged in the Y2K era became less solidified.
Looking at today, Cyberpunk has seemingly lost its foothold in the popular imagination. Every other month there is a large-scale debate about whether or not R&B is dead. Both are perceived to be suffering from large-scale stagnation, despite the fact that you can say they have never been closer stylistically. In a review of the Weeknd’s 2011 anthology album series titled ‘Trilogy’, Pitchfork points out exactly how far the sound of the project was from the traditional offerings the genre had been producing. The album was thematically influenced by Nine Inch Nails' Downward Spiral’. The anthology series's broody, dark production auditorily resembled the heavy, foreboding instrumentation of Reznor’s band. Just as Nine Inch Nails had done years before, the Weeknd’s debut introduction to the musical world opened the floodgates for more mercurial and stylistically different interpretations of R&B.
So what’s missing? Has this partnership run its course? I don't think it’s that simple. What made the early era of Afro-futurism something to behold was the earnest attempts to make a future more within our control. It was, to a certain degree, fanciful but grounded enough to provide a genuine alternative for people who were seeking it. It wasn’t just escapism for the sake of it —it was the ability of artists to look beyond our current conditions that gave that era its distinctive glow. Both of these genres provide something the other is looking for; Cyberpunk is able to speak to the alienation that is not only felt in postmodernist society in general but also nested inside the love lives of everyday people. The decaying buildings and self-questioning characters in most classic Cyberpunk media find direct representation in the moodiest of today’s R&B stars.
The modern adopters of these ideals are artists such as Bryson Tiller, Syd and Brent Fayiaz. They all share a certain vision of what modern times have done to our collective psyche and jointly present questions worth asking. As much as I personally love the artistic output created in this lane, there is simply too much reality present to carry on in the same vein as the past. Each day we are inundated with news that provides the hard truth that the future is here and has brought with it many of the ugly-headed monsters of the past.
While this truth is important there is a lack of artistic attempts to imagine a world without its existence. This isn’t me saying that there is no need to speak about the current climate we live in. Quite the opposite, I’m saying that providing an image of a future where we overcome many of these issues, fight off our worst demons of nihilism and do not allow apathy to seep in. In no uncertain terms, the future of both Cyberpunk and R&B hinges on their ability to combine an intense understanding of our current moment with a unique vision for the future.
We are currently looking down the same barrel that faced Sci-fi artists of the sixties and seventies—reality has caught up to us. In turn, we have become despondent in our artistic response because our issues are far larger. Getting out of this rut requires an amount of imagination that I believe is collectively possible.
Think about it, ‘The Matrix’ isn’t the same movie if Neo were to spend a little over two hours doom-scrolling and weeping, just as R&B isn’t the same when deprived of that innocent belief in a blissful harmonic existence. Finding any light today can be a herculean effort, but it is worthwhile. There’s a ‘dust yourself off and try again’ punchline in here somewhere that shouldn’t be attempted, but the advice rings true. Without sounding too hyperbolic, I do believe there is a better vision for the future inside the current sounds, fashions, and visuals of Cyberpunk and R&B waiting to be explored.
