When Mary Lambert recorded the chorus of Macklemore & Ryan Lewis' "Same Love" in early 2012, she was working three jobs. An aspiring singer/songwriter on the side, Lambert landed the feature through her peer in Seattle's art scene, Hollis Wong-Wear, who had worked with Macklemore and Lewis on their track "White Walls." It was a big opportunity for Lambert, as Macklemore & Ryan Lewis were coming off of a No. 1 hit with 2011's "Can't Hold Us." But more importantly, she was able to provide her voice to one of the decade's biggest LGBTQ+ anthems.

"Same Love" — a call to action to support marriage equality — was released in July of 2012, nearly three years before same-sex marriage was legalized nationwide. It became a radio hit around summer 2013, when the Defense of Marriage Act was struck down. While songs like Madonna's "Express Yourself" or Whitney Houston's "I Wanna Dance With Somebody (Who Loves Me)" have long been hailed as Pride anthems, "Same Love" was one of the first mainstream hits to outwardly vocalize support for LGBTQ+ rights and marriage equality, and to condemn stereotypes attributed to people of the community.

Macklemore was partially inspired by his gay uncle, who is mentioned in the song's first verse, when writing "Same Love." But he felt particularly inclined to write the song upon reading about a teenager who killed himself after being bullied for his sexuality, he revealed in a 2013 interview with New York Times.

"I just wanted to hold myself accountable," Macklemore said, "and hold hip-hop accountable and bring up an issue that was being pushed under the rug."

Lambert, then 22, had a different personal connection to "Same Love," as she came out as a lesbian when she was 17. (She alludes to her sexuality in the chorus, in which she sings, "And I can't change/ Even if I tried/ Even if I wanted to/ My love, my love, my love/ She keeps me warm.") While she wasn't sure how the song would be received, Lambert knew she was part of something special — so special, in fact, that she told her three bosses that she may need Sundays off during awards season.

Her instinct was right: "Same Love" was nominated for Song Of The Year at the 2014 GRAMMY Awards, where Lambert — alongside Macklemore & Ryan Lewis, Madonna and Queen Latifah — delivered a powerful performance of the song that saw gay and heterosexual couples get married on live television. Queen Latifah officiated the mass wedding, and near the end of the performance, Madonna arrived on stage, singing a portion of her 1986 hit "Open Your Heart" before joining Lambert in singing the final chorus and outro of "Same Love."

The monumental moment was an idea that was born out of a conversation then-GRAMMYs producer Ken Ehrlich had with his daughter, who identifies as a lesbian. His daughter mentioned that some same-sex couples had set some of their engagement and marriage videos to "Same Love," and that the song had garnered much popularity in the LGBTQ+ community.

"A light bulb went on in my head," Ehrlich says. "We could conceivably do a performance on the show where we brought together a number of couples, and not just same-sex couples. I wanted to try and universalize it in one way, and show the importance of diversity and embracing all of our communities. I wanted to demonstrate that it's not unusual, but it's universal." 

Once he had the Recording Academy on board with the concept, Ehrlich reached out to Latifah to ask her to marry all of the couples. Not only did she say yes — she obtained an ordained minister license specifically for the performance.

Read More: Where, What Channel & How To Watch The Full 2023 GRAMMYs

As Lambert recalls, she was told about the mass-wedding performance in a series of phone calls as it came together. "I was like, 'Oh my God, I already I cry at one wedding, how am I gonna hold it together for 33 weddings?'" Lambert jokes. "I got [a] call that was like, 'Can you do a duet with Madonna?' And I was like, 'Oh my God. This isn't real.' A week later, I got a call saying Queen Latifah is gonna marry couples. And then I'm like, 'Is someone gonna get resurrected next?'

"Every week, it just felt more and more surreal," she continues. "I remember each of those phone calls and just being like, 'This is just f***ing unbelievable.'" 

The 2014 GRAMMYs marked a pinnacle moment for "Same Love," but its impact had already been solidified. Though the song had a slow burn on the charts upon its 2012 release, it eventually peaked at No. 11 on the Billboard Hot 100 in July 2013. Within that year, the Defense of Marriage Act became a hot-button topic, as the United States Supreme Court had declared DOMA — which denied same-sex couples the benefits and legal recognition given to opposite-sex couples — unconstitutional the month before.

Macklemore and Lewis always meant for "Same Love" to make a social impact. The song was unofficially adopted as a campaign song for Washington State activist groups working to pass Referendum 74 to legalize same-sex marriage in the state. A portion of proceeds from "Same Love" were donated to Washington United for Marriage, as the state is home to Macklemore, Lewis and Lambert.

The song's accompanying music video, directed by Jon Jon Augustavo, depicts the life of two queer men, as they grow from their youth in love, into their marriage, and arrive together to their old age. While many attributed the song and its video to the approval of Referendum 74 in Washington State in November 2012, Augustavo said in an interview with IMVDB that neither he — nor Macklemore or Lewis — feel comfortable taking credit for this.

"I think all of us that were involved do feel we're a small part of it," Augustavo said. "You have to say at least the audience that the video hit, their audience for music, ages 16-26 or so, you have to believe it at least educate them about, or at least encouraged them to look up, what Referendum 74 was. With it being passed, hopefully we played a small part in that."

Macklemore isn't subtle about the fact that "Same Love" is a pro-gay anthem, even declaring his own stance in the song's second verse: "No freedom till we're equal/ damn right, I support it."

He also uses the verses to call out those who don't, including "right-wing conservatives" and religious groups, as well as those who use the term "gay" in a derogatory sense. But perhaps his most powerful lyric makes a statement that is equal parts thought-provoking and change-making: "It's the same hate that's caused wars from religion/ Gender to skin color the complexion of your pigment/ The same fight that lead people to walk-outs and sit-ins/ It's human rights for everybody/ There is no difference."

Read More: The Rise Of The Queer Pop Star In The 2010s

Commercially, "Same Love" became anthemic at a time when LGBTQ+ artists didn't have much of a presence on mainstream radio. According to New York Times, "Same Love" was "the first song to explicitly embrace and promote gay marriage that has made it into the Top 40," per gay rights activists and radio executives.

"The fact that a song solely dedicated to the message of marriage equality is climbing the charts and quickly becoming a popular song across the country is a big deal," said Charlie Joughin, a spokesman for the Human Rights Campaign, in a 2013 interview. "It's indicative of a changing attitude."

One could argue that its popularity and presence on the radio opened the doors for LGBTQ+ artists to thrive in mainstream pop. A year later, Sam Smith would make their proper debut with their 2014 single, "Stay With Me." USA Today named "Stay With Me" Song of the Year in 2014, saying, "'Stay With Me's' gospel-tinged piano and Smith's sweet, heart-tugging falsetto struck a chord of universal yearning, like the living embodiment of Macklemore & Ryan Lewis' 'Same Love.'"

But with the success also came controversy, as some members of the LGBTQ community felt Macklemore was waxing sanctimonious over something a cisgender straight man could never fully understand. In a 2014 op-ed for The New Republic, writer Brandon Ambrosino said that while he enjoys the song, he felt it sends the wrong message about being gay.

"The aversion to that word [choice] in our community stems from belief that if we can't prove that our gayness is biologically determined, then we won't have grounds to demand equality," said Ambrosino. "I think this fear needs to be addressed and given up. In America, we have the freedom to be as well as to choose to be. I see no reason to believe that the only sexualities worth protecting are the ones over which one has no control."

While some felt Macklemore's outwardly pro-gay stance seemed performative, others found that it came in earnest, and unlike anything previously on mainstream radio. "Macklemore's lyrics offered an idiosyncratic perspective on homophobia in hip-hop and American society at large, criticizing both with a mixture of gentleness and firmness that I had not heard before," Slate's J. Bryan Lowder wrote in 2013. "And most importantly, his support of the gay community felt sincere."

Macklemore and Lambert are all aware of criticisms toward "Same Love." Yet, Macklemore remains an outspoken ally to the LGBTQ+ community, and continues to donate proceeds from the song to organizations supporting LGBTQ+ equality. Lambert also remains proud of the song, and argues that people shouldn't discount it simply because of its lead artist being a cis straight white male.

"A straight white guy performing a good ally song has an element of cheesiness, but I think gay rights have progressed so astronomically fast, that people forget the impact the song had," Lambert says. "I feel like sometimes it's dismissed. I might have a little bit of a chip on my shoulder to be like, 'Don't dismiss it.' If it got released now, I'm sure it'd be a little cheesy. But in 2012, it was everything. It meant so much to a lot of people, and it certainly meant a lot to me. And it still does."

Josh Rawlings, who played the instantly recognizable piano hook of "Same Love," says he gets asked to play the song at weddings to this day. "It's still very relevant with the climate of sexual and gender identity, and all of these important movements that are still being discussed and talked about," he says. 

"It's a slow, painful process, but I have to believe that songs like these affix themselves to not just that point in human history, but they can be relevant for all of human history," Rawlings adds. "They can be songs that we claim as a real triumph. I see it's still weighing on hearts and minds."

Ten years after "Same Love"'s release, the song has once again sparked a conversation thanks to TikTok. While some queer and trans Gen Z-ers have subverted the idea that the song is "cringe," others argue that it held major meaning at the time of its release.

"It's literally crazy how progressive/brave this song was," said TikTok user @kylierobinsun. "Gay marriage wasn't even legal in the United States when this song came out in 2012. I remember hearing this and feeling at peace when I was little."

The song has been used in nearly 20,000 TikTok videos, many of which see young LGBTQ+ people sharing how the song impacted them. "I remember trying not to cry in the car when this played on the radio, trying not to out myself, because I had never heard anything like it," @peelingplums wrote. "This song made me realize that I have allies, that I'm not alone and there are people who will stand up for me and mine." 

The video blatantly contests that "Same Love" is "cringe," echoing Lambert's argument — no matter how the song has aged, it sends a message that will always be meaningful. "By today's standards, this song may be cringe," @peelingplums added, "but by 2012 standards? It was life changing."

Lizzo's Road To 'Special': How Beyoncé, Prince & Self-Love Helped Find Her Destiny As Pop's Confidence Queen

When Greg Gonzalez sat down to start writing the next Cigarettes After Sex album, the dream pop frontman relied equally on memories of heartbreak and the ballads of the Material Girl. "‘90s Madonna was a big influence on this record," he tells GRAMMY.com with a soft smile. 

Though the end result won’t be mistaken for anything off of Ray of Light, that timeless, almost mystic cloud of emotionally resonant pop carries a distinct familiarity on Cigarettes After Sex's new album, X’s.

Cigarettes After Sex has championed that sweet and sour dreaminess since their 2017 debut. Two years after that self-titled record earned rave reviews and was certified gold, the El Paso, Texas-based outfit reached even deeper for Cry. And while those records cataloged Gonzalez's heartbreaks and intimacies in sensual detail, Gonzalez knew he could reach deeper on the band’s third LP: "These songs are just exactly as memory happened." 

Arriving July 12, X’s fuses Cigarettes After Sex's dream pop strengths with ‘90s pop warmth and ‘70s dance floor glow. Always one to bring listeners into the moment, Gonzalez imbues the record with a lyrical specificity that gives the taste of pink lemonade and the tension of a deteriorating relationship equal weight. On X’s, the listener can feel the immediate joy and lingering pain in equal measure.

"This is specific to me and what I'm going through, but then I go out and talk to people on tour, and they’re like, 'Oh, yeah, I went through the exact same thing,'" Gonzalez says.

Leading up to the release of X’s, Gonzalez spoke with GRAMMY.com about the appeal of ‘90s Madonna, finding a way to dance through tears, and his potential future in film scoring.

Tell me about the production process for this record. You've always been able to build nostalgic landscapes, but this record feels smoother than before. Were there any new touchpoints you were working with?

That was the thing: trying to make the grooves tighter. It was coming from more of a ‘70s Marvin Gaye kind of place, trying to make it groove like a ‘70s dance floor.

Which is an especially interesting place to be writing from when dealing with that line between love and lust.

Yeah. The stuff we've done before was really based on the late ‘50s, early ‘60s slow dance music. But it was always supposed to be dance music; I always wanted Cigarettes to be music you could dance to, even if it was a slow dance. 

When I think of pop music and I think of songs that really feel powerful, they usually make you want to groove in some way. I love a lot of music that doesn't do that: ambient music or classical or some jazz. But there's so much power to music that makes you want to move. And I found throughout the years that I could just never get enough of the music that makes you want to dance. So I thought, Okay, the music that I make should be really emotional. It should feel like music you could actually cry to, but in the end it should make you want to also move in that way.

It’s the physical necessity of the music, some forward motion to match the emotional journey. I’d imagine that is related in some sense to the fact that you’re writing in a somewhat autobiographical way. Is that a way of not getting stuck in the stories, in the feelings?

I'm writing it for myself. Of course, I can't help but picture the audience in some way. But it's never like I'm writing it for them.

There is an audience that I can visualize that would like the music. [Laughs]. There have been times where we’re recording and I close my eyes to visualize an arena or a stadium to picture the music in that setting. It’s a nice feeling. And that's just based on the music that I love that I thought had similarities. 

Is there any particular music that you love that fills that feeling?

There's so much music that I was obsessed with, but with Cigarettes I narrowed it down. Since I was a kid, I did every kind of style I could do. I was in power pop bands, new wave, electro, metal, really experimental bands. 

But when I finally sat down and said, "Let me make an identity for Cigarettes and make it special," I had to think about what my favorite music was and what music affected me the deepest. And it was stuff like "Blue Light" by Mazzy Star or "Harvest Moon" by Neil Young or "I Love How You Love Me" by the Paris Sisters. And I kind of put all that together and that became the sound of Cigarettes. And now I do that every time I make a record: I'll make a playlist of what I want it to feel like. I mentioned Marvin Gaye. I feel like ‘90s Madonna was a big influence on this record.

Madonna in the ‘90s? No one could touch that era. I don't know when the last time you listened to that music was, but… 

No, I grew up with Madonna and I used to watch the "Like A Prayer" video on repeat. It blew me away. But then I came back and I got into the ‘90s stuff, like "Take A Bow" and that record Something To Remember. It's all of the slower tunes. And that was a big influence, especially songs like "Rain."

You clearly have a diverse musical appetite, but you’ve also highlighted people with such identifiable voices — something that I think is true for Cigarettes as well. Your vocals are so front and center in the identity of the project.

That's great. The singer pretty much makes the song for me, whatever I’m listening to. The entire spirit comes down to the vocals. I'll hear a song like "Take A Bow" and be like, This feels so special. What if I made something that felt like this? If I told someone this [record] was based on Marvin Gaye and ‘90s Madonna, I don’t know if they would think it really sounded like that. It's more just trying to capture the spirit of what those records feel like.

That's what's cool about it too: You can remember those songs that were filling the air back in the ‘90s and what those feelings were, what you were up to, and draw a line between that and whatever's happening now that I wrote about. 

You don’t seem like the type of person to avoid negative feelings when you come up against them in that process either. The songs feel like you just embrace it, even if it's really painful.

I've always felt that's the best way for me to go through things, to face it head on. It's supposed to be painful. You have all these really great moments with somebody and all these great memories, and then when it ends, honestly, that's the way it goes, right? That's the trade off. 

Yeah, but not everybody goes through a breakup and then makes an album about it. Isn’t that like returning to the scene of the crime? How does it feel to deal with it in that way?

That's funny. The thing was, I was writing a lot of this stuff while I was still in a relationship. It took so long to finish it. 

Finish the album or finish the relationship? [Laughs.]

Actually both. But yeah, the record is mostly about that one relationship, but there are little diversions with some of the songs. A lot of the key images and songs are based on that romance and little memories that I took from it.

I like that I have all those moments kind of set in stone. It’s hard to listen to this record too because I'll just really see these moments, all these memories, and it can be a bit much to flash back to all that stuff and see it so vividly. But I love that I have it. Those memories meant so much and I’m glad that they're collected and displayed in this way.

And you were able to collect them when it was happening as opposed to having some time between, which could warp those memories. Writing and recording when you’re as raw as possible makes sense, so what you capture is really honest.

That's why I like to write these songs that are as honest as possible or as autobiographical as possible, with a lot of details. If I'm writing a song and someone heard it, they would know it was about them just based on all the imagery that's in that song. It's like a little letter to them. It could be like a secret little letter to someone. 

That makes me think of "Holding You, Holding Me," which is so lovely and feels as immediate as anything you’ve done. 

It was the pandemic, and then the other girlfriend I had at that time, we were living in downtown L.A. and just wanted to get out of the house and stay somewhere nicer for a while. And we went to this AirBnb that was in Beverly Hills with this beautiful backyard. The song was meant to be kind of Fleetwood Mac-ish, like "Gypsy" or "Sara", that nice ‘70s country pop feel.

Over the years I’ve noticed you frequently use taste as a sensory link in your songs, which really creates an evocative moment — I’m thinking about references to candy bars and lemonade on this album. What is it about that sense that sticks out to you?

If I'm going back to memory, then that's just what really happened. We went to the store to go buy wine and candy because that was the vibe that night. "Let’s watch movies and get red wine and some candy bars." And it was just a big memory that we walked outside and it started raining. I think too, what's nice about using objects is that it gives you so much mood in a song. You can tell what the feeling is of that moment when you put those things together.

And it can have an almost universal understanding. People will understand what it means to have a "candy bar night."

That's the craziest thing. It's almost like you're trained to write universally, meaning generically. Like, "Oh, this is a song that everyone can like and the lyrics can be really simple." But I’ve found that the songs that are really detailed and were more personal stories, a song like "K." from Cigarettes After Sex, those are the songs that everyone really loves, the ones that take up being really specific.

I suppose that's pop's way of being a doorway. When you're talking about your personal experiences, somebody is going to enter into it and feel like you're singing about theirs. 

You realize that we're all in the same boat. This is specific to me and what I'm going through, but then I go out and talk to people on tour, and they’re like, "Oh, yeah, I went through the exact same thing." I feel very lucky that most people I talk to that love [our] music are always saying that. It’s so special.

It makes me trust my instincts. That's the hard thing when you're writing. You're wondering, Is this too much to disclose? Is this too much information? [Laughs.] That instinct is really important to know, to trust it. That's the tough one. That's what's also therapeutic about it too. You want to share things that feel really personal because then you can process them. You can really start to unpack what those moments meant and what they can mean going forward. It gives me more confidence when I hear that kind of stuff from people.

What then is it like when you sing it for a crowd? You’re performing, but you can’t fully separate the emotion that inspired that song. 

That's tough because, ideally, if I did my job well enough writing the song, then it should be hard to sing live — especially if I really see those moments when I'm singing it. It could bring me to tears, honestly, because it should feel that intense. And it's even worse if I look in the crowd and someone's crying. I can't even look at them. And that happens very often. If I started crying, my voice will stop.

That brings a real cinematic feeling to your music too, which makes me think you’d be good at scoring a film. Is that something you’d tackle?

I'm definitely obsessed with film and have been since I was a kid. The idea that I keep saying — and I almost feel like I'm going to jinx it because I keep saying it too much — is that I really want to direct and write something. And I've written some ideas down for screenplays and things. It seems like it's hard to transition from musician to filmmaker and really make it stick. But that would be something I want to do in the next 10 years. I'm giving myself 10 years. [Laughs.]

LGBTQ+ artists have long shaped the music industry and culture at large, offering audiences a glimpse into their unique lives, shared experiences and so much more.

Queer artists are foundational to American music; Released in 1935, Lucille Bogan’s “B.D. Woman’s Blues” was one of the first lesbian blues songs — and wouldn’t be the last. Fellow blues singers Gladys Bently, Ma Rainey and Bessie Smith also sang about same-sex love (thinly veiled or otherwise). On opposite ends of the 1970s musical spectrum, disco (itself a queer artform) and punk musicians explored gender identity in song and performance —  defying conventional gender norms at the time. Gender fluidity became part of the culture during the '80s, with genre-bending artists such as David Bowie and Boy George leading the charge. 

In the decades since,  a spectrum of LGBTQIA+ artists is opening up —  and creating work about — their sexual and gender identities. Queer artists are also being recognized for their contributions to global culture. In 1999, six-time GRAMMY winner Elton John became the first gay man to receive the GRAMMY Legend Award. 

Read more: The Evolution Of The Queer Anthem: From Judy Garland To Lady Gaga & Lil Nas X

The GRAMMY Awards have become more inclusive of the queer community. In 2012, the Music's Biggest Night became the first major awards show to remove gendered categories. In 2014, Queen Latifah officiated a mass wedding of straight and gay couples during Macklemore and Ryan Lewis’ “Same Love” performance, which included gay icon Madonna performing her “Open Your Heart.” In 2022, Brazilian singer/songwriter Liniker became the first trans artist to win a Latin GRAMMY. Just three months later, Sam Smith and Kim Petras became the first nonbinary and trans artists, respectively, to win a GRAMMY Award for Best Pop Duo/Group Performances for their collaboration, “Unholy.” The 2024 GRAMMYs marked a record high for queer women winning major awards: Miley Cyrus, Billie Eilish, Victoria Monét, and boygenuis all took home golden gramophones in the Big Six Categories. 

As queer artists continue to command attention across genres and get their flowers on the global stage, a new class of LGBTQIA+ artists is emerging into the scene. These artists are both following in the steps of established acts by sharing their experiences through their music, and creating work that is unique to their lives and time. 

In celebration of Pride Month 2024, GRAMMY.com has put together a playlist of rising artists across the LGBTQIA+ spectrum, whose sound commands you to live out loud. 

When we look back at the Recording Academy’s 2023, the 50th anniversary of hip-hop will loom exceptionally large.

The ongoing celebration permeated every facet of the world’s leading society of music professionals this year, from the 65th Annual Awards Ceremony in February to the special airing of "A GRAMMY Salute To Hip-Hop" in December — a dense, thrillingly kaleidoscopic televised tribute to the breadth of this genre.

One major accompaniment to this was coverage of the genre’s legacy via GRAMMY.com, the editorial site run by the Recording Academy. If you haven’t been keeping up, we’ve got you covered. Here’s a highlight reel of the work GRAMMY.com published in honor of the 50th anniversary of hip-hop.

We Profiled Rising Stars

From Lola Brooke to Tkay Maidza, GRAMMY.com engaged in comprehensive in-depth interviews with artists who are at the forefront of shaping the future of hip-hop, and held a roundtable discussion about exactly what the next 50 years might look like. 

We Published Conversations With Legends

DJ Kool Herc and Questlove, who have played unquestionable roles in hip-hop’s continuing evolution, spoke to GRAMMY.com about their profound and abiding connections to the idiom.

The Contributions Of Women Were Highlighted

Without the inspired vision of countless women, hip-hop would not be what it is today. The "Ladies First" segment, which kicked off "A GRAMMY Salute To Hip-Hop" featuring Queen Latifah, Monie Love, and MC Lyte, among other lady greats with Spinderella as DJ, was an ode to this. 

In acknowledgment of female trailblazers in a world dominated by men, GRAMMY.com wrote about teen girl pioneers, women behind the scenes, a revealing Netflix doc, and women artists pushing the genre forward in 2023, from Ice Spice to Lil Simz.

We Revisted Hip-Hop’s Biggest Releases

From Enter The Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) to Jay-Z’s The Black Album to Cardi B’s Invasion of Privacy, GRAMMY.com dove deep into the core hip-hop canon. We also broke down the genre’s development decade by decade through the 70s, 80s, 90s, 00s, 10s, and 20s, with a focus on classic albums from each era.

Listen To GRAMMY.com's 50th Anniversary Of Hip-Hop Playlist: 50 Songs That Show The Genre's Evolution

We Criss-Crossed The Country

GRAMMY.com’s series of regional guides — from the Bay Area and SoCal, to Texas and the Dirty South, to D.C. and NYC — highlight hip-hop’s diversity of culture and sound.

We Went International

Although hip-hop is a quintessentially American phenomenon, its impact, appeal, and influence has spread worldwide. The international appetite for hip-hop was showcased in coverage of Latinx and Argentinian rappers to know, as well as five international hip-hop scenes to know: France, Nigeria, Brazil, South Africa, and England.

We Explored Hip-Hop’s Larger Impact

Hip-hop is more than a sound. It’s a culture that permeates almost every sector of life. Showcasing this effervescence, GRAMMY.com ran pieces about the evolution of hip-hop’s influence on educational curriculum worldwide, as well as its biggest fashion and style moments.

We Covered On Stage Celebrations

"A GRAMMY Salute To 50 Years Of Hip-Hop," the two-hour special that aired in December on CBS and is available on demand on Paramount+ represented a culmination of the Recording Academy’s 50th year anniversary celebration.

Revisit the 2023 GRAMMYs’ hip-hop revue, and check out a recap of "A GRAMMY Salute" with photos, a rundown of all the performers and songs and coverage of the Black Music Collective’s Recording Academy honors in February.

It Didn’t Stop There…

Notable coverage also included the evolution of the mixtape, 11 Hip-Hop Subgenres to Know and 10 Binge-worthy Hip-Hop Podcasts, as well as a breakdown of Jay-Z’s Songbook and Snoop Dogg’s discography.

For everything GRAMMY.com and all things hip-hop — including our rap-focused run in the GRAMMY Rewind series — visit here.

2023 In Review: 5 Trends That Defined Hip-Hop

When people fondly refer back to hip-hop’s golden age, they are talking about hip-hop’s adolescence — an experimental era when no idea was too risky, no innovation too bold, no boundary too established to be broken. This period between the mid 1980s and mid '90s saw hip-hop’s elders transported into new directions as the culture transitioned into the capitalist mainstream.

It is impossible to document this golden era without acknowledging the contributions of the Native Tongues. The New York-based collective — whose core members included now household names such as the Jungle Brothers, A Tribe Called Quest, Queen Latifah, De La Soul and Monie Love — played a pivotal role in reshaping the cultural landscape of both hip-hop and jazz in the mainstream. As a whole, the Native Tongues opted for a more introspective and bohemian approach to their lyricism and melodies.

The Jungle Brothers’ Mike Gee, DJ Sammy B and Baby Bam led the wave with an Afrocentric philosophy. Their 1988 debut album Straight Out the Jungle, set the vanguard of fusing hip-hop with jazz elements. "Black is Black" is perfectly representative of the first tendrils of what would become the canonical Native Tongues sound: an almost whimsical approach to with race relations and social commentary in America, structured with a boom-bap drums and an impressive array of samples (Gil-Scott Heron, Prince, Kool & The Gang). At the opening beats, Q-Tip introduces himself, going "I’m from A Tribe Called Quest" — a harbinger of the yearslong future association as part of the most influential young collectives of the '90s.

Q-Tip and Ali Shaheed Muhammad of Tribe were classmates of the Jungle Brothers in the lower Manhattan high school Murray Bergtraum, and began collaborating as classmates. With additional members Jarobi White and the since departed Phife Dawg, the quartet — and occasional trio — had an impressive five album run: People's Instinctive Travels and the Paths of Rhythm (1989), The Low End Theory (1991), Midnight Marauders (1993), Beats, Rhymes and Life (1996), and The Love Movement (1998). Each release featured a panoply of inspired and progressive approaches to hip-hop, with lyrics and intricate rhyme schemes that ranged from pensive to cheekily adolescent; production drew influence from jazz, bossa nova, rock, and everything in between.

"Check the Rhime" of the classic Low End Theory is exemplary of their dexterity and appeal. Couplets that are deceptively laid back yet remarkably complex — seamlessly veering from discussing capitalism to general braggadocious flair — while the beat integrates everyone from Minnie Ripperton to a Scottish funk & R&B.

De La Soul rounded out the core groups at the heart of Native Tongues. The Long Island-based trio — Kelvin "Posdnuos" Mercer, Vincent "Maseo" Mason Jr, and the late Dave "Trugoy The Dove" Joliceur — played with a colorful and eclectic approach to their jazz tinged sound and visuals (their debut album declared it the age of the DA.I.S.Y. (Da Inner Sound, Y'all) ). De La Soul were unafraid to lean into a sense of whimsy with songs like "Transmitting Live  from Mars," which sampled the Turtles while integrating a looped French lesson. Unfortunately the result would be precarious: the Turtles sued and won for using their sample, setting a dangerous precedent for the industry.

It would not be the end of De La Soul's legal troubles in the industry. Due to negotiations and disputes with Tommy Boy Records, most of De La Soul’s discography was not available on streaming and younger generations. That is, until March 2023, when De La Soul regained the rights to their releases under the label.

Rounding out the Native Tongues are Newark's Queen Latifah and London’s Monie Love (the only non-New Yorkers in the core crew). Each artist is a pioneer  in not just hip-hop’s consciousness space, but leaders for women in the industry. Latifah and Love’s "Ladies First" is an example of their dual function in the collective as chroniclers of both women's and Black issues. The hit record confronted feminist themes and women’s liberation with punch, verve, and dizzying rhyme patterns; the music video addressed trans-continental Black struggles including the plight of South African racial apartheid. The song was an embodiment of the Native Tongues spirit.

There was never an official dissolution to the Native Tongues; rather, fractures, regroupings and  internal conflicts that stopped the collective's momentum in the mid-'90s. Combined with the rise of Bad Boy Records and a new style of hip-hop star.

Yet as the years progressed, there would be multiple extended members that would be affiliated with the Native Tongues movement — Black Sheep, Black Star, Brand Nubian, the Beatnuts, Leaders of the New School, the incomparable J Dilla — showcasing the impact the Native Tongues’ craft and approach had on '90s hip hop. That influence extends to present day, with popular artists such as Tyler, the Creator and Pharrell  crediting the Tongues’ renegade spirit in their own journeys as individuals, rappers, and producers.

The Native Tongues shifted the myopic perspectives of what people believed hip-hop could, would and should be; their influence encouraged hip-hop to expand, shift and impact the mainstream pop world. The collective's legacy remains as a reminder to ignore narrow-minded criticisms of hip-hop culture (and sound) as a single narrative.

6 Highlights From "A GRAMMY Salute To 50 Years Of Hip-Hop": Performances From DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince, Queen Latifah, Common & More