What Genre? Music, Identity and the Stan Economy of the 2020s

I was scrolling through TikTok when I paused on a video from German creator @etienne_steffen. He said: “Wen willst du verarschen? Rap ist mittlerweile gar kein Genre mehr, es ist ein Werkzeug. Alles kann Rap sein, Hauptsache der Flow stimmt…” — “Who are you kidding? Rap is no longer a genre, it’s a tool. Anything can be rap as long as the flow works.” That struck a chord because whenever someone asks me “What kind of music do you listen to?” I freeze. Especially when I try to explain why I love the artist DPR Ian: his songs fold together alternative R&B, electronic, cinematic instrumentation and free-form rap-like flows, and there’s no neat genre label that feels right. That moment exposed a deeper shift: in the 2020s, music doesn’t just cross genres, it dissolves them. This blog goes further than the TikTok clip: it explores how genre fluidity, global production, stan-economies, and algorithmic fandom are reorganizing how we create, market and listen to music and how identity, community and authenticity get remixed along the way.

When Genre Became Less About Sound and More About Strategy

Traditionally, genres acted like identity scaffolding—rock, hip-hop, punk, electronic—they meant certain production styles, cultural communities, ways of being. But recent research shows that these genre boundaries are far less stable in the streaming era. According to Riveros & Verano’s 2020 study “Understanding the Genre Fluid Movement: Do Genres Matter Any More in the Recording Industry?” the rise of artists blending influences and the declining relevance of genre classifications reflect a recording industry shifting toward hybrid sounds and flexible marketing. That means a song might carry the instrumentation of pop, the rhythm of trap, the lyricism of indie and the gloss of electronic all at once. In Billboard chart analyses from 2021, tracking genre diversity and fluidity shows that songs like J Balvin & Dua Lipa’s “Un Día” defy one-word genre labels, and the very idea of a single “genre home” is collapsing.

For listeners like you and me, this creates confusion but also freedom. When someone asks “What music do you listen to?” the answer could be “whatever hits me,” and that is less about identity through genre and more about identity through mood, flow and algorithmic design. 

The Tool-Box of Rap and Flow: Why Nothing Has to Be One Thing

That TikTok quote pointed specifically at rap, but it might apply across modern music. Rap today often operates less as a genre and more as a toolbox: a way of vocal phrasing, rhythmic ride, lyrical cadence and attitude that can sit on trap beats, Afrobeats pulses, piano intros, noise textures or pop hooks. Research into genre classification shows that listeners’ preferences in one style influence how they approach tracks in other styles (acoustic features cross over) and this blurs the utility of genre even further.

Take the artist Tyla from South Africa, whose hit “Water” rides a kwaito/Afrobeats piano groove with rap-inflected lyrics and pop sensibility. Or the German artist Nura, who blends rap, pop melodies and Afro-influenced rhythm while reflecting on identity, migration and womanhood in Germany. These examples show that the flow and attitude commonly associated with rap can be deployed across soundscapes. The label “rap” doesn’t confine the music, it frames one dimension of it.

Music suggestion: Tyla – “Water” (global hybrid rap flow)

Nura 

Global Collaborations, Features and the Era of the “Any-Sound” Hit

The 2020s are also the decade of global feature culture. Collaborations between artists on different continents are no longer rare, they’re standard. Research published in the Oxford Handbook of Global Popular Music named how online genres evolve when global players, streaming platforms and international cultural flows intersect. One example: US rapper Future appears on a Latin trap track, a K-pop star features on an Afrobeats record, a Ghanaian drill artist collabs with a UK producer. The borders that once marked genres dissolve into networks.

By blending sound styles and national styles, artists not only tap new markets, they expand possibility. But there is a tension: when features become strategy rather than creative choice, we risk losing novelty and local meaning. A large-scale analysis of genre trajectories shows that user listening histories move beyond single genre homes into “pathlets”, multiple genre hops in one trajectory. That means the playlist is less a declaration of identity and more of a constant search.

Music suggestion: Burna Boy feat. Ed Sheeran - „For my hand“

Stan Culture, Meme Marketing and Identity Participation

Music doesn’t just change in sound, it changes in how we consume it. Films, zines and magazines once mediated the scene; now TikTok, Instagram, Discord, Twitch and Reddit curate our fandom. Stan culture intensifies this: fans don’t just listen, they mobilize hashtags, stream en masse, dominate comment sections and become part of the ecosystem. A Rolling Stone feature describes how stan culture evolved via social media into a form of identity and power. That means the role of the listener changes from passive to active collaborator, co-curator, sometimes unpaid marketer.

Consider the German K-pop-influenced rapper Milano who builds his own “universe” of visuals, memes, catch-phrases and interactive livestreams. Fans feel like stakeholders. Yet when fandom becomes labour: constant streaming, ranking hashtags, “stan wars”; we must ask who gets paid, who owns the labour, and whether the community becomes a conduit for corporate profit.

Authenticity, Remix and the Business of Being Real

A key question arises: if genre is dissolved and features become marketing, then is the music still real? The TikTok quote asked whether artists like Doja Cat or Yeat are still “real or just trying everything that’s popular.” Research into genre fluidity argues that genres once signalled authenticity and belonging; when that signifier disappears, authenticity must find new anchors. It can be personal narrative, community involvement, resistance or performance of identity.

For example, Killer Mike uses rap to critique systemic injustice while adopting contemporary sonic production. NoName crafts introspective hip-hop that refuses hype but fosters intimate authenticity. On the other side, some tracks feel like algorithmic design, engineered to hit TikTok moments, combine global sounds and maximise streams. The risk is that music becomes a remix of what’s trending rather than a statement of self.

Music suggestion: Killer Mike – “Walking in the Snow”; NoName – “Song 33”

What This Means for You as a Listener

So where does that leave us? When someone asks you what music you listen to and you say “everything, whatever I discover” know that you’re not alone, and you’re not weird. You are part of a shift. But this shift asks something of you. It asks: do you discover music passively or actively? Do you explore context, history, roots or just let the algorithm feed you your next favourite beat?

It asks: when you stream, like, share, comment, do you feel like a community member or an unpaid promoter? Do you celebrate the hybrid world or mourn the loss of scene identity? And finally: when music becomes the tool it is today, is it still your soundtrack or their product?

To wrap up, this decade invites us to ask: What genre of listener are you going to be?

Written by: Christina Kyriakidou

Sources & Further Reading

Riveros, J., & Verano, M. (2020). Understanding The Genre Fluid Movement: Do Genres Matter Any More in the Recording Industry? Berklee College of Music.
Epure, E., Salha, G., Moussallam, M., & Hennequin, R. (2020). Modeling the Music Genre Perception across Language-Bound Cultures. arXiv.
Whelan, A., & Nowak, R. (2024). The Ebbs and Flows of Online Music Genres. In The Oxford Handbook of Global Popular Music.
“Has Online Fandom Gone Too Far? Musicians and Repentant Stans on the Terror of Toxic Fandom.” The Guardian. (2024).