A Tribe Called Quest (ATCQ) was the soundtrack to my freshman year. Bus rides were spent shuffling “Midnight Marauders,” and study halls were dedicated to exploring their discography. The Queens rap group was formed in 1985, but their music meant a great deal to me in 2022.
Although I found it over five years late, stumbling upon their final album “We got it from here… Thank You 4 Your Service” felt like receiving a gift. It was released in 2016, nearly 20 years after their penultimate album, the music scene at the time then drastically different from their peak in the ‘90s. The album contains a certain magnetism that I hadn’t heard in other contemporary rap. Retrospectively, I think I was so captivated because of its call back to a departed era: the age of the rap group.
A favorite track of mine off WGIFH… TY4YS, “Whateva Will Be” serves as strong evidence for the prolonged chemistry of the group. Members Phife Dawg, Jarobi, Q-Tip and Consequence fluidly trade places on the beat, forming a forceful commentary on the struggles Black people face in America. Phife Dawg asks, “are you amused by our struggles?,” and the others seem to answer as they each detail their own experience. Each member offers a unique contribution, but they clearly remain a part of the same whole. There is a rhythm between them that I’ve found can’t be replicated by the single-track feature that is now commonplace. Why, then, do rap groups like ATCQ largely cease to exist?
The answer lies in the evolution of the genre and its role in the world. Rap was the rose that grew from concrete, flowering in the ‘70s as a response to difficult conditions brought about by urban blight in New York, particularly the Bronx. Rap groups formed as a survival tactic, strength in numbers to resist opposition incompatible with life. Although the genre and its figureheads continue to face disproportionate criticism, other factors have allowed the individual rapper to rise in prominence.
Notably, the internet first began a shift from the rap group (like ATCQ) to the rap collective, an assortment of artists that release music under a shared umbrella, but do not necessarily form a group. Rap collectives like A$AP Mob and Odd Future thrived in the 2010s, and often brought fame to individual members far greater than that of the collective, like A$AP Rocky and Tyler, the Creator, respectively.
As rap became more and more widely enjoyed, it became increasingly profitable to release as a solo artist. And with current technology, it seems as though anyone can. One person can be the instrumentalist, rapper, and producer, and platforms like SoundCloud allow for easy release. I admire music’s newfound accessibility, but I would love to see a revival of rap groups and the inimitable energy they create.
In a digital age when physical communities are becoming increasingly difficult to find, it is upsetting to see that trend reflected in music. Out of Spotify’s top ten artists for 2025, nine of them are individuals, with Mexican band Fuerza Rigida picking up the rear at number 10.
As demonstrated by A Tribe Called Quest, when voices are joined together, the most human works are created. Each contributor brings their unique experience and personality to the beat, but the close-knit culture of a group produces a shared message. This message is strengthened and reaffirmed by each member, forming the unique sentiment that no matter what, we’re never in this alone. Until the importance of rap groups is truly recognized and acted upon, I’ll be finding this comfort in ‘90s albums and 2016 revivals.
