What Will This Decade of Music Say About Us?

The late 80s and early 90s were pivotal for youth culture in the UK, an era marked by political and social unrest. The Cold War, police brutality, and systemic inequalities fueled a generation’s defiance.

Music became both an escape and a means of resistance. The question is, does music still have that same effect today?

It’s the summer of 1988. Notting Hill Carnival.

Norman Jay drops “F** Tha Police” as part of his Good Times Set.

Carnival goes off.

I still remember the first time I heard that song. It was the summer of 1988 and I was driving through Brixton in a convertible Volkswagen Cabriolet. We’d just bought it on cassette and played it through analogue speakers.

N.W.A had verbalised something I wasn’t able to say at the time when the police were punching me in the face. I turned the volume up louder as we drove slowly past a police car.

Every decade has had its share of explicit, derogatory music as well as quirky glossy pop (queue Madonna and Wham!), but in general the late 80s and 90s were largely defined by music that spoke to social injustice and the human condition.

Groups like Public Enemy and N.W.A. used hard-hitting lyrics to expose issues such as racial profiling and government neglect. Fight the Power (1989) became an anthem for resistance, while N.W.A.’s F** tha Police* (1988) directly criticised police violence. Tupac and Nas used storytelling to shed light on poverty, crime, and institutional oppression.

Though the US had - and continues - to be a dominant force in global music, UK artists have always created their own narratives. Over time, UK artists have been amongst those pushing back on US dominance in the industry, highlighting the similarities in our social and human conditions.

The music of this era didn’t just entertain; it dismantled social barriers. Either through the music itself, or in the culture that surrounded it.

It’s the summer of 1988. The rise of electronic dance music and the rave scene had created a culture of rebellion.

Anger and unrest simmer in society, and the rave scene emerges unexpectedly as a unifying force, bringing together people from all backgrounds.

What appears on the surface to be a mass of people dancing and gurning off their heads, is a collection of people standing up against a Conservative government that didn’t care about them.

People from all backgrounds dance to deep-house classics mixed with Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream” speech in the same set. Skinheads who we heard chanting “No Black in the Union Jack” even became part of the scene. Somehow.. we found unity here.

The UK rave scene in the late ’80s and early ’90s became a countercultural movement, challenging government control and restrictive laws. The Criminal Justice and Public Order Act 1994 aimed to curb illegal raves, a direct response to the underground dance scene’s rapid growth.

Rave culture, fueled by house and techno, symbolized freedom and resistance against authoritarian policies. Songs like A Guy Called Gerald’s Voodoo Ray (1988) and The Prodigy’s Their Law (1994) captured the scene’s defiant energy.

The rave movements of the ’80s and ’90s laid the foundation for much of modern British music. House, breakbeat, and techno evolved into jungle, garage, and grime.

But how much of the music we listen to today still speaks truth to power?

Amapiano’s fast BPMs and hypnotic rhythms signal the return of high-energy music, echoing the spirit of early jungle raves and drawing diverse crowds to sweaty dance floors. The emergence of this genre has helped shift the global music spotlight toward African creativity, challenging the dominance of Western pop and hip-hop narratives.

Artists across the world have embraced or fused their sound with amapiano, showing how music can transcend language and cultural borders. But is that the same as breaking a cultural divide?

Listening closely, we might be witnessing a different divide being broken in the music industry—the divide between faith and modern culture.

Chandler Moore and Kirk Franklin on Glorious—GloRilla’s debut studio album—Tobi Nwigwe’s catalogue, and artists like DC3 and Stormzy with Gang Signs & Prayer signal a shift in musical boundaries, welcoming those who might not usually venture into the gospel or worship genre.

Music is either a paintbrush we use to decorate time, or a letter we speak into time itself. What will the music of this decade say about us?