Mac Miller @ Mesa Amphitheatre

Mac Miller should serve as an inspiration to all suburban white boys with a bong in their hand and his album coursing through their overpriced headphones. Malcom James McCormick, the 20-year-old Pittsburgh-born rapper, is proof that average talent and the privilege of his race can still take a white boy far in America. Especially in the rap world. If you have ever thought to your young white self, I’d like to forgo the normal, boring white middle-class life that my parents worked so hard to give me and rhyme words (except the N one) together for a living, know this: Miller is proof that such dreams do come true! Think about it. His flow is unimaginative and unmodulated, despite the beat. His predominant narratives — weed, women, and success — are played out. Not much sets him apart on paper. Yet songs like “Donald Trump” have 68 million YouTube views and he is as relevant as almost any rapper. The keys to his success, and the potential success of all the young Miller fans who could become a frat boy or America’s next rap star, are simple — hard work and middle-class whiteness. I’m not just talking skin color. Yelawolf, despite being technically superior and more interesting, will never reach Miller’s level of notoriety because of his rural, trailer-park sensibilities. On the other hand, Miller is a marketer’s wet dream: middle-class white kid with flow and diction that is easily understood by novice rap fans or even non-fans. So put down the books, young mini-Mac, and hit that bong again. Release 15 mixtapes before you’re 20 and one day you’ll follow Miller’s path to stardom, too.