Mazbou Q

Q: [What is it about Rap and Hip Hop that captivates people in 2025, 50+ years after its inception?]

A: There are so many ways to answer this, so I’ll just speak for myself. When it comes to rap specifically, I’m captivated by how it takes two things that are deeply intuitive and accessible to us, i.e. language and rhythm, and builds layers of creative complexity around them.

The entry point is simple. All you need is a voice and something to tap a beat, and you’re off. But the depth it can reach is incredible. You’ve got entendres and multilayered soliloquies, nuanced storytelling, polyrhythms, complex percussive arrangements, the whole spectrum. It can be raw and honest, speaking to our most basic senses, but also intricate and intellectually stimulating. I love that. As for Hip Hop more broadly, I love how it brings people together across time, geography, and background. It gives us space to be radically different while still moving forward together on common ground.

For me, as a third culture kid, it’s been a priceless way to connect, communicate, and find fellowship with people from cultures and identities very different from my own.

Q: [Additionally, what is it about your Rap Scientist content that has generated such interest not only on social media but in academic circles?]

A: There are a few things. Firstly, a big part of my audience seems to be people who became disillusioned with music theory because of how it was taught to them in school. It was rigid, abstract, and usually centered on music they couldn’t connect with — mostly classical or jazz standards.

Nothing really stuck, and they ended up believing music theory just wasn’t for them. Then they come across my content, where I’m communicating the same concepts in a more intuitive, accessible way using a genre they genuinely resonate with. Suddenly, things start to click that never made sense before. For some, I think it’s even a healing experience. Another segment of my audience are rappers and Hip Hop practitioners who see my content as a way of legitimizing the nuance and complexity of their practice.

This is a bit of a double-edged sword. On one hand, I don’t believe Hip Hop needs to be theorized in order to be appreciated. But on the other hand, there’s still a perception out there that Hip Hop isn’t “real” music, or that rap is the low-hanging fruit of the music world. My content challenges that directly. So for some people, it’s validating to see the things they’ve always intuitively known get put into words and frameworks they might not have had access to before. Lastly, there’s the part of my audience made up of music educators — people invested in music pedagogy across various levels. They see my content as a fresh approach to teaching familiar concepts in a way that resonates more deeply with their students, and hopefully helps prevent them from ending up in that first group I mentioned

Q: [You speak often about the lack of support for local music and local musicians. This seems to be a huge problem globally, that our own cities and countries don’t play our music on the radio, in our tv shows and films etc. In your context in Aoteaoroa, who do you think is responsible for this huge and consistent oversight, and how do we begin to move the needle?]

A: From the conversations I’ve had, radio programmers often say their hands are tied when it comes to how much local music they’re allowed to play. I’m still unclear on the exact reasoning behind that and plan to revisit those conversations. But at the core of it, I believe that if local radio made a firm commitment to playing mostly local music (say, 90 percent or more) we’d see a radical shift in the industry. The general public would be far more familiar with current local artists and begin to appreciate them in the same way they appreciate international ones. That kind of cultural shift would drive demand for local shows, boost attendance, make it more viable to run music venues and tour as a local artist, and increase the marketability of local acts for festivals. It could also reduce opposition to public funding of the arts. In my view, the flow-on effects would be significant, and it just seems like the obvious place to start.

Q: [What are you most proud of?]

A: My wonderful family, first and foremost. But if we’re talking music, I’m most proud of the fact that I’ve kept choosing to press on with this journey, even when I’ve had no idea what was coming next. And I say "choosing" deliberately, because it’s a decision I’ve had to make over and over again. Some weeks, some days, it’s a choice just to keep going. But staying the course has led me down a path I couldn’t have imagined a few years ago. From guest lecturing at places like Berklee and Harvard, to connecting with some of the biggest names in Hip Hop like Lupe Fiasco and Joey Bada$$, it’s all been incredibly validating. And more recently, for those who don’t know, I actually came into Hip Hop from the metal scene.

A lot of my early musical idols are still giants in that world. So when people like Misha from Periphery or Kiko from Megadeth started paying attention to my work, it was insane for me. Not just because it’s amazing in its own right, but because it represents this full circle moment for me. Like this wild, unpredictable path I’ve been walking is somehow connecting all the different stages of my life in ways I never saw coming. That kind of alignment feels profound. And it’s only come about because I didn’t give up.

Q:[If you could give one singular piece of tactile, practical advice to an African artist in the diaspora and on the continent wanting to pursue a career in music what would it be?]

A: For many of us in the diaspora, identity can be a real struggle, shaped by varying levels of disconnection from our homelands.

My advice is to embrace that discomfort, and resist the urge to gaslight yourself (or let others gaslight you) into thinking you need to fit neatly into a box or predefined archetype. Give yourself the freedom to shape your own identity and be the architect of your own culture, in whatever way feels true to you. Make music that lives in the in between, that exists in the crevices of certainty. You have no idea how many of us are out there who need to hear the stories only you can tell.