Amidst the everyday social media posts, the past week has presented a flood of Spotify Wrapped Instagram stories. This has certainly become a subject of memes — ridiculing people who share their stats online — but for me, observing listening trends is fascinating. Through my observation of a limited sample of the people around me, alongside the fact that Puerto Rican artist Bad Bunny claimed the title of most streamed artist globally in 2020, I have concluded that trap music, a subgenre of rap, tends to be among the most popular music genres for our generation.

Trap music, by nature, is disruptive. “[It is] the first musical style where people without a discography or money to pay for a demo could make music from their computers," wrote Max Besora, author of Spanish book Trapologia. While some might argue with this statement, it is no secret that trap artists have broken the cycle of "making it" in the music scene through a well known label. Besora cited the boom of this genre as a result of the democratization of access to new technologies.

Recreating the trap sound, characterized by a significant amount of auto tune, 808 kick drums and sharp hi hat patterns, does not require access to expensive equipment. The distribution of music from this genre is often done through online platforms such as Soundcloud and Bandcamp, dismantling the exclusivity and toxic selectiveness of the mainstream music industry.

To me, the dynamic between trap music and mainstream music — although trap might be considered mainstream at this point — is reminiscent of the Palestinian music scene. Palestinian music has always been a medium for political discussion and a mobilizer of resistance, both under the British mandate and now, under Israeli occupation. The Palestinian voice has always been subject to different forms of censorship. As ethnomusicologist David A. McDonald wrote in his book, My Voice is my Weapon: Music, Nationalism, and the Poetics of Palestinian Resistance, singers of Palestinian protest songs in the early intifada years were targeted by the Israeli government through arrests or detentions days before scheduled performances, or through shutting down concert halls just hours before a performance. The book follows Palestinian music and protest songs, and refers to case studies which uncover the challenges of creating music as a Palestinian.

So, what happens when you are a Palestinian artist creating trap music from within the Palestinian territories? Ramallah based trap artist Shabjdeed, one of the main voices in the Palestinian underground scene, is one example of this complex and multi-layered disruption. With popular artists like DAM well known in the region, Palestinian hip-hop is not a foreign concept. However, Shabjdeed takes a different approach. His rapping style presents a diversion from the norm in Arabic music. When rapping in Arabic, there is an emphasis on the thick Palestinian accent. In English, he also raps with that accent, replacing his P's with B's. Some have called this style performative. Regardless, it remains an element of difference that listeners are not used to.

He makes it a point that he only cares to rap for people like him, which is why he does not explicitly refer to the Palestinian cause or commonly used symbols in Palestinian resistance music, such as the olive branch or the Keffiyeh. Rather, he focuses on day to day struggles of his life in Ramallah, such as experiences at checkpoints and other facets of the occupation. He is not the only one with this vision. Many of his peers, featured in Boiler Room's documentary Palestine Underground shared similar sentiments. Featured in the documentary is artist Muqata'a, with a stage name that translates to boycott and disruption. He is often referred to as one of the godfathers of the Palestinian underground hip hop scene. He thinks of his work in the underground scene as a glitch in the system and as necessary disruption in the face of the silencing of Palestinian culture.

Shabjdeed and Muqata'a are not unique cases in the Palestinian music scene. They are part of a movement that is gaining popularity mirrored in neighbouring countries, such as Egypt, as well. A sign of the growth of this movement is the independent record label BLTNM, founded by Shabjdeed, producer Al Nather and rapper Shabmouri. The name of the label is in itself a play on the mainstream Arab pop music label Platinum Records. Their vision is to revolutionize Palestinian music and move away from cliche representations of Palestine, but still produce political music for the Palestinians. The founders view their label as a step of building an industry where Palestinians take ownership of their identity as they preserve and understand it without any Western interference.

As artists like those under BLTNM become the default for youth listeners that feel represented by the rebellious and dark nature of the genre, disruption of the status quo slowly becomes mainstream. Recently, BLTNM has partnered with Burberry, a British luxury brand which somehow contradicts the nature of trap music and the Palestinian underground music scene.

This leaves me questioning: how long can something remain disruptive, before it becomes another way of reinforcing what we're already used to seeing in the mainstream music industry? Is disruption, specifically in music, inherently short-lived? As the Palestinian trap and underground scene continues to grow, it may answer such questions, but for now, I will be digging deeper into the scene and observing the waves of change it brings to the region's soundscape.