I admire the hip-hop sensation that is Post Malone. Familiar with his unapologetic fashion exploits and killer beats, I’m not opposed to busting out to any number of his chart-topping hits. But to be truthful, it’s unlikely you’d see me among crying teenage fans or getting low with the street crowd during his worldwide tour. Nevertheless, I’m ready to jump on board with
the thousands of partygoers as he makes sights for Australia this April, because, hey, I’m a millennial. And, as the musician’s current worldwide tour performance proves, he’s incredible live. Like all 20-somethings, Malone and I share a number of uncanny resemblances, many of which are undeniable. No, it’s not sharing his endless tattoos or untamed facial hair that relates our seemingly distant existence. It’s that we’re always tired.
Nowadays, the millennial generation gets a pretty bad rap. They’re presumed to be lazy, freeloading and party obsessed – with a side of poor spending habits. We do, however, put this down to an innate skill for multitasking. Rolling out of the club at 2am with a 9am work deadline is our kind of challenge, and if anyone knows how to make their way through a media interview – seemingly simultaneously greened out – it’s this guy.
Hailing from Syracuse, New York, Post Malone made his way to Los Angeles in chase of the bright lights – or so every celebrity success story reads. Breaking into the high- octane world of music with his debut single White Iverson, his high-flying career had quickly begun to soar and so did the count of tattoos on his face. Repping sleazy-chic in Dolce & Gabbana or one of Alessandro Michele’s custom nest – may it be known, too, that those Willie Nelson pigtails have been replaced with a soft bun – the 23-year-old boasts a growing collection of awards, and, dare I utter such a dirty word, but the “self-made” celebrity now represents an entire generation.
Barely five years into the game and a quick nap is unlikely for this hip-hop mogul. Like Malone, we tend to prioritise having a good time over sleep. But if it’s not hurting anyone, I say turn up the music. Nevertheless, it’s a true testament to his art – all while holding a beer bong in one hand and the keys to a Bentley in the other.
THIS ARTICLE APPEARED ORIGINALLY IN THE APRIL 2019 EDITION OF ICON MAGAZINE.