The first cleverly transforms the well-worn waltz of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s 1959 song “My Favorite Things” from The Sound of Music into an Atlanta-style hemiola, also known as the “Migos Flow.” Substituting “bottles of bubbles” for “whiskers on kittens,” Grande turns the Broadway duo’s triple-time rhymes into trappy triplets. Like most songs aimed at the charts, “7 Rings” is built around at least two hooks. And 2 Chainz’s fans noted similarities between “7 Rings” and the rapper’s “ Spend It ” (2011). Soulja Boy called Grande an outright thief on Twitter for copying his song, “ Pretty Boy Swag ” (2010). Princess Nokia was the first to call Grande out, tweeting that it “sounds about white” that the artist copied her flow from “ Mine ” (2017).
So when Ariana Grande’s “ 7 Rings ” began climbing the charts with a rhythmic cadence that reminded a lot of people of a lot of other songs, it quickly became a platform for discussions of what we deem original and what we hold as communal. At a time when the language of pop is as referential, intertextual, and, sure, derivative as ever, teasing out the lines of influence has become a prominent part of public conversations among artists and fans. Social media fuels the rush to litigate whether familiar riffs and rhythms are exclusive or communal property - debates that are fueled by a history of racial injustice in the music industry. Illustration: Mike McQuade and Photos by Kevin Winter/Getty Images, Joseph Okpako/WireImage and Ethan Miller/Getty Images.Īllegations of copying and cultural appropriation are hardly new to popular music, but today, it can feel like nearly every big hit becomes a target.