Gunner Shepardson, better known as Nettspend, recently became the poster boy of the contemporary underground hip-hop scene after achieving internet fame seemingly overnight. As a 17-year-old white kid from the suburbs of Richmond, Virginia, he’s probably not what you typically think of when picturing underground rap. To me, Shepardon’s leadership is a hard truth to accept, and consulting online discourse suggests that I’m not the only one who feels this way. Comments on posts are divided: Some say he’s the future of rap, while others say they’d rather listen to nails on a chalkboard.
His April 2024 single “nothing like uuu” made waves across several social media platforms with its bizarre, futuristic instrumental and detached, almost careless vocal delivery. During a first listen, the track doesn’t appear to be particularly distinct from other records in any area other than production. Engineered by the underground’s favorite soundsmith, a producer by the name of OK, the song is typical of OK’s trademark style. Heavy synths and 808s constantly repeat over simplistic drum patterns to synthesize an enchanting mantra that strives to secure every ounce of your attention. The substance of the song primarily resides within a thematic framework constructed by many of Nettspend’s internet rap predecessors, delving into discussions of deliberate drug abuse, sudden fame, and misguided romantic relationships. Upon a more careful listen, however, one might notice how lyrics like “I been tryna get geeked all night” and “Hold my hand if you think it’s for life” are juxtaposed to create a snapshot of a continuously complicating America. The song is almost reminiscent of a traditional, bittersweet coming of age story, except first beers and young love are replaced with drinking lean (a mixture of promethazine-codeine cough syrup and sprite) and unreliable romantic partners.
His music is a prime example of how hip-hop has impacted the social fabrics of American youth after becoming the most popular genre in 2017. Individuals who most likely wouldn’t have previously interacted with trap records, such as a white kid from suburban Virginia, are now rapping about sipping opiate-infused beverages and driving Rolls-Royce Cullinans — and somehow selling out shows across the nation by doing so. Nettspend’s debut album, “Bad A*s F**king Kid,” only brought more commercial success: He now sits at 1.2 million monthly listeners on Spotify, with multiple songs over five million streams. Conversely, critical reception of the work was underwhelming. Pitchfork rated the project a 6.1, and Anthony Fantano of The Needle Drop gave it a light two out of 10.
At Lakeside, things are similarly polarized. According to the Tatler poll, it seems that most Lakesiders aren’t even aware of Nettspend’s work — about 68% answered so. Out of those who did know of Nettspend, though, only 20% indicated that they were fond of his music.
Jai P. ’26, who dislikes the rapper, says “Nettspend sounds like he’s talking through tin foil. [His music] is just noise.” The dissenting opinion is passionately delivered by Ethan M. ’27: “To call Nettspend merely just an artist is an insult of the highest order. He is a sonic architect, a visual prophet, a harbinger of culture itself. While lesser common musicians flounder in the cesspool of predictability, Nettspend ascends — no… He levitates above the noise, crafting soundscapes so transcendent that he renders all other walks of music obsolete.”
A common first reaction to the unknown is disdain. Especially in the realm of art, new and divergent creations are often ostracized and met with criticism. Perhaps this stems from a defense mechanism meant to keep oblivious humans away from potential dangers back in the days of wooden clubs and cave dwelling.
Take, for example, Young Thug and the emergence of “mumble rap” in the early 2010s. Even though he is now celebrated as one of the forefathers of the American trap movement — innovating by mixing lines about street violence with ambitiously androgynous runway looks at Paris fashion week — critics once called his work “post-verbal” and were offended that it should even be considered music.
There is also the case of Swedish musician Yung Lean, who released his mixtape “Unknown Death 2002” a little more than a decade ago. In many ways, Nettspend’s sudden propulsion into pseudo-fame parallels Lean’s rise to stardom with his track, “Ginseng Strip 2002.” Both artists were reliant on the internet to reach new audiences, their songs were both extremely innovative and distinct from the popular sound, and both artists were scrutinized by critics. Most importantly, both musicians were complete outsiders to the rap scene. Yung Lean’s approach — being born in Stockholm and writing with surreal imagery — gave him a fresh perspective that fans and peers found extremely captivating. While his music never saw substantial success within the mainstream, his work was undeniably influential in shaping the stylistic trends of contemporary hip-hop. Rap legends such as A$AP Rocky, Playboi Carti, Lil Uzi Vert, and Travis Scott have all cited him as an inspiration crucial to their artistic identity.
Nettspend’s trajectory remains to be seen. Will his future projects clinch Billboard’s Top 100 and discover mainstream success within the next decade? My guess is most likely not. His music is currently much too niche, vulgar, and experimental to be relatable to your average music lover. Moreover, publics across the country are still too divided on whether his work even merits the title of “real music” (whatever that means).
Nonetheless, just like Yung Lean, I do believe that Nettspend’s unique discography will have an influence on the future of hip-hop, especially amongst younger artists finding inspiration in his records. His intentional separation from the industry standard indicates a greater realm of possibility is emerging within rap, one that promotes ambition and innovation.
