There’s been a lot of talk in the Upstate about our music scene over the last few years. About rock, country, electronic music, folk and jazz. But there’s one genre that seems to get bypassed: hip-hop.
Even before COVID-19 shut down many local venues, it wasn’t easy to find local rappers on Upstate stages. There are exceptions of course, but in general, the rapid increase in talented hip-hop performers, producers and DJs hasn’t been accompanied by an increase in attention. Artists like 888Shiva, DJ Swale, Maxx Good$ and more have been creating brilliant work in an underground atmosphere.
So we thought it was time to ask some of our Upstate hip-hop artists, both veterans and newcomers, how they view the local scene, how it’s changed over the last few years, and why the shows (and attention) don’t seem to be coming their way.

The Art:
“I don’t want to sound too old, but when I was in high school, I didn’t really see too many people rapping,” says Upstate rapper Shyland Flowers. “But now I see everyone having a group and a crew; I think it’s really cool.”
“I think talent-wise we’re good,” says Barryle Young, another local hip-hop performer. “I think opportunity is sparse, and you have to really dig yourself a foundation.”
Young’s body of work is one of the best examples of the Upstate hip-hop scene’s stylistic diversity. His music blends soulful sung vocals, impressive guitar work and rapping to create a fascinating hybrid sound.
“To be honest, I’m a singer and guitarist first and foremost,” he says, “but I like rap music because I like the bravado and the lyricism and the storytelling. I like how you can paint these pictures with your words. So what I like to do is paint pictures with my words; I like to have a lot of wordplay and a lot of punchlines in my music. So it might be an R&B song per se, but there’s that rap element in it.”
While Flowers and to a lesser extent Young, are veterans of the Upstate scene, Maxx Good$ is a relative newcomer with around three to four years’ experience making music here. And even he has seen a rising tide of local talent.
“It’s growing,” he says. “You’ve got a lot of new talent, a lot of people who are really ambitious and inspired. I feel like it has a lot of potential.”
The Scene:
So if it’s true, why are we not seeing more hip-hop shows at our local music venues?
“I think a lot of it has to do with promotion,” Flowers says. “People don’t know how to properly promote themselves. And a lot of it has to do with being professional. Showing up on time — that’s the bread and butter, if you ask me.”
But Young says that Upstate venues often aren’t convinced that hip-hop shows are reliable enough to take a chance on.
“The club owners here, they have to make sure they’re going to make their money,” Young adds. “I won’t go into details, but I had booked a show with a venue, had a band set up, and when I called back to follow up with the club, they had given the night away to someone else because they literally feared that no one like me can pull [an audience]. That took precedence over what I was trying to do when I had a full band and a couple hundred people interested in coming out to see me.”
“If a hip-hop artist is there, you have to break the attendance record or it’s not considered a success at all,” says Jon “Shooter” Hargrove, a veteran Upstate hip-hop performer, producer, promoter and label owner. “You don’t get another chance. When you get a venue, you have to put your best foot forward or you may not get another shot.”
And sadly, there are still undercurrents of racism when it comes to South Carolina’s acceptance of home-grown hip-hop.
“People who only like cover bands, their only introduction to rap might be gangsta rap,” Flowers says. “And that’s kind of stereotyping or pigeonholing rappers that actually want to be positive.”
“Sometimes they just flat-out say that they ‘don’t want that type of crowd here,’” Hargrove says. “I hate to say that it is about race, but sometimes it definitely feels like it plays a factor because of the kind of code words they use, like ‘that type of crowd’ or ‘that environment in my establishment.’”
For some artists, that’s not a problem. Maxx Good$, for example, prefers not to do many live shows.
“In 2019, I may have done seven or eight shows,” he says. “Me personally, I don’t want to be seen all the time. I know that’s kind of contradictory, but that’s just kind of how I operate, and it’s worked out for me.”
Hargrove, on the other hand, simply bypasses venues whenever he can, putting on shows wherever he can find a spot.
“I love doing the DIY stuff because I have that freedom to have bigger events,” Hargrove says. “We do this festival every year where we have 30 artists, all different genres. And I know I can’t do that at a venue because the sheer amount of COVID restrictions we have right now would just be impossible. People are being creative doing stuff with festivals in yards and all kinds of stuff.”
Hargrove reflects the other artists we spoke to when he says that a change is coming, and eventually local hip-hop will be on equal footing with other genres of music.
“It does get frustrating at times,” he says, “but when you get frustrated, the best thing you can tell yourself is that it will change, and you’ve got to be the change you want to see. I make an effort to keep reaching out and reaching out. There’s only so many times they can say no.”