Death of a Dark Horse: A Response to Mac Miller’s Untimely Passing and Unappreciated Impact on Music
I had a writing prompt for myself today, but recent events prompted me to.. well… shift prompts.
Two days ago, Mac Miller died. And although I wasn’t a super-fan, my heart is heavy.
His passing bothered me enough to write this.
My freshman year of high school is when I first heard Mac.
One of my buddies showed me the music video to ‘Nikes on My Feet’ and honestly, I was a bit jealous.
Not of my friend, but of Mac Miller himself (I’ll get to that shortly).
Age 14 is when I really started to consider myself a student of the rap game and at the time, Mac Miller was on the come up. Since everyone I had listened to up until that point—Hov, T.I., Lil Wayne, Jeezy, Em—were all well established artists, Mac was first artist I could listen to and actually critique.
I was excited at the idea of being critical. I even told myself that one day, maybe I’d review music (specifically rap) for a living. I had studied everything Lil Wayne and Eminem had ever written, was a Kanye super-fan, and had just began to dive into the origins of hip hop itself.
So when a skinny, tatted-up white kid from Pittsburgh started to make some noise, I was ready to give him two big thumbs down.
Mac never gave me that opportunity.
Everything he put out was organic, fresh, authentic.
His flow was unique to him. Lyrically, he could hold his own. Mac Miller hit every credential necessarry to establish oneself in the game, and there was no denying it.
An expert musician, Mac could play any instrument he wanted to. He knew how to utilize his voice and added that to his arsenal of instruments—background vocals being the focal point of much of his music. It was like whatever sounds he came up with in his head, Mac could translate into real music, for us to hear.
Needless to say, there was no room for me to criticize.
He was an artist, who expressed his creative genius through sound.
I used to envy Mac in the sense that he was everything kids my age wanted to be. Take that as you will, but as a high-schooler at the time when hip hop was establishing itself as the nation’s most popular genre, Mac Miller was living out the dream all of us shared—to go against the mold, express ourselves through a creative outlet, and be recognized for our efforts.
Everyone saw a little bit of themselves in Mac.
He was just a blue collar kid from a blue collar city with a vision to pursue his passions—no ifs, ands, or buts about it.
Most of my friends are like me, in the sense that we weren’t Mac fanatics. If someone were to ask me “Who do you normally listen to?”, Mac Miller probably wouldn’t be at the top of my list. But no one disliked him.
All of us appreciated his music whenever he dropped. We all had a list of favorite Mac Miller songs. We all had a memory associated with Mac’s music and whenever we threw one of his tracks on in the car or at a party, the speakers ALWAYS knocked.
Some of the best to ever do it—including Jay Z, Lil Wayne, Kendrick and J. Cole—all recognized Mac as deserving of his spot in hip hop.
For everything he put out, he flew under the radar—an absolute sneaky talent who thrived on being the underdog.
His untimely death affected me more than I thought it would.
And I know I’m speaking for the majority my friends when I say that.
Since Friday, his passing seems to be the only topic of conversation. I’ve had hour-long talks with friends and family—all heavily bothered by the obvious lost talent.
I think we all genuinely agree that Mac Miller wasn’t supposed to die at 26. He wasn’t supposed to die of an overdose. Even though a lot of people were unsurprised by his cause of death—he had flirted with an array of dangerous drugs in the past—most were shocked to hear it actually happened; and that we’d never hear new music by Mac again.
A lot of people I know cried at the news of his passing, after the initial shock set in. And I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t one of them.
Listening to ‘Nikes On My Feet’ this weekend, brought back way, way too many good memories. It was one of the first songs I bumped in my car when I finally got my license. It was one of the first songs I reviewed—and to my own surprise, argued as evidence for Mac’s skill as an artist. And it provided a basis for Mac’s potential.
I made friends over ‘Knock Knock.’ I blasted ‘Senior Skip Day’ in the locker room after football practice. I rapped every word to ‘Donald Trump’ in the mirror before school in the morning.
Mac Miller wasn’t the ‘greatest of all time’ by any means—but he was unique, ambitious, and extremely talented. His career will continue to impact up-and-coming artists who understand the value of self-belief and a blue-collar work ethic. Mac left his mark on the game, and will be sorely missed by the music community.
From a fan who regrets not appreciating you enough when you were here…
Mac—thanks for being the one to break the mold, listen to your heart, and do what most of us like you were ultimately too scared to do.
Rest in peace.
Here are some of my favorite Mac Miller tracks:
‘Nikes On My Feet’
‘100 Grankids’
‘Diablo’
‘Senior Skip Day’
Mac Miller freestyle on Funk Flex:
