Footage from this battle went viral thanks to YouTube, the rebellious emcee winning over a slew of new fans. Kerser initially opted only to self-promote via a monthly video upload to YouTube, some clips receiving up to , views in 48 hours. Still releasing monthly videos, Kerser continues to generously share uncensored personal stories through his music, connecting directly with his rabid fanbase. I was the first one to prove that even if the industry and the media ignore ya, you can still make it — just go off track.
With overall YouTube views exceeding million, Kerser now holds the position of most-viewed Australian rapper on YouTube. When Kerser joined forces with local producer Nebs, together they injected epic club beats into what was already a singular brand of hip hop. Leading figures, such as Nter, TKO and Gravy Baby, have become neighbourhood stars, stopped by fans in the street for Instagram photos. For most city dwellers, this is a familiar feeling — the little thrill that comes from seeing local landmarks writ large on a screen.
It's less common for those living at the frontiers of urban sprawl. When it sneaks into the mainstream, gutter rap provokes a sharp cultural cringe — at the accents, shaved eyebrows, face and neck tattoos, drug use and dole dependency, even the polo shirts, markers of hapless country-club aspirations.
The scene's hardest worker, Kerser long ago transcended the gutter rap label. Having produced six top-selling albums in six years, he now describes himself as upper class — "the c that rose up". But he has yet to throw off the cultural stigma.
Granted, his music — a lurid facsimile of chart-topping '90s rap, with a smattering of misogynistic and homophobic slurs — lacks sophistication. In theme, the songs veer between vulgarity and melodrama, every attempt at revelation hindered by cliche. By the same token, though, there's little to admire in the music of Australia's dominant rappers, like Illy and Hilltop Hoods, who dispense trite, feel-good messages over backwards-looking boom-bap beats.
It's not primarily a lack of merit that prevents Kerser from breaking into the mainstream. Instead, the cultural trappings of his blue-collar background ensure our indifference.
In any case, the kinds of validation the establishment can offer — triple J plays and a long-overdue ARIA award, for starters — are of little interest to his fans. Kerser treats his listeners like confidantes, sharing stories about his personal life and his neighbourhood, as well as his anxieties and self-doubt. He takes the blemishes, travails and insecurities of a significant, under-represented section of the Australian underclass and reflects it all back at them, larger than life.
For better or worse, he's become a role model of sorts. While outsiders might laugh or ignore him, "most of my fans," he says, "they're just proud". Australian rapper Kerser: giving a voice to the Australian underclass. Please try again later. The Sydney Morning Herald. By Annie Toller March 9, — 5.
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