I don’t quite remember when it was, but one day, while I was doomscrolling on Instagram, my ears were blessed by a very lyrically complex, melodic sound that definitely cannot be described as “ostrich squeal rap.” As the line, “Shout out Martin Luther K–i–i–i–ing” emanated from the speakers of my phone, I knew I had struck gold with rapper Yuno Miles.
Active since 2019, Miles has garnered a cult following due to the bizarre, shitpost–esque nature of his music. He went viral in 2024 after releasing his song, “Martin Luther.” While at first glance a tribute to civil rights activist, the song quickly confronts you with arrhythmic, dissonant rapping and some lyrical gems such as, “If it weren’t for him, I wouldn't even be here rapping this shit / Trapping this shit, stealing shit from my family and shit.”
Since then, Miles has soared to new heights, releasing his first studio album in 2025—aptly named ALBUM—and starting a United States tour, which he promptly canceled after the first show. He’s even gained the attention of Ye, collaborating with him on the song “Bomb.” While Miles’ success may come as a surprise to most people with ears—even to Miles himself, who constantly makes story posts questioning who is listening to his music and why they do so—this success may reveal something deeper. It is possible that our enjoyment of music transcends just how it sounds, or it’s meaningful, lyrically profound content?
Should we value music for the comedic purposes it may provide?
Miles, evidently, is very much in on the joke when it comes to his music and public persona. When accused of “actually trying” in an interview with music critic Anthony Fantano, he quickly sets the record straight saying, “Let me shut the rumors down, I am not trying. If I try, it would be 10 times worse. Trust me.” Everything from his rap style to his lyrics (which contain a questionable amount about violence towards his grandma) to his online presence is so provocative and unorthodox that it almost makes you question whether he is being ironic or not.
Miles isn’t exactly reinventing the wheel here. We’ve seen artists like Bo Burnham gain traction for making comedic songs, and even further back, in the ’80s and ’90s, with “Weird Al” Yankovic and his parodies. Despite the success of other past comedy acts, Miles still stands out as a special case. Burnham, in his comedic and musical efforts, uses his art to create societal commentary, and—objectively speaking—his style of singing isn’t too unconventional or unpalatable. Similarly, Weird Al doesn’t have an overtly dissonant style of singing, and his most popular songs are usually parodies of other popular songs. In both cases, it is also made very evident that they are intentionally joking.
Miles flips the script in the sense that his comedy lies in how bad his music sounds, how nonsensical his lyrics are, with no clear intention behind them. Miles openly admits he makes bad music, but he’s never explicitly stated—no matter how crazy everything he says in his songs is—that he makes music for jokes. There is no rhyme (literally) or reason behind any of Miles’ songs … or his public behavior, which include blocking people in his comment sections who say they like his music and posting about how he’s selling features for $600 a piece—although, my message asking for comment for this article has sat in his inbox for weeks. There’s also no true evidence of him intentionally trying to make a commentary like Burnham or be subversive against the mainstream for laughs like Weird Al. Miles uniquely leans into being “bad” and “low effort” for the sole purpose of being bad and low effort.
You can roll your eyes at the meme–rapper label, but there is something to be said about his ability to be funny and somehow come up with these outlandish ideas for raps. You have to admit, playing off the concept of being so absurd while still being able to entertain people and garner a following from it is kind of impressive. Especially when we consider the fact that we don’t even let “serious” mainstream artists get away with the stuff Miles gets away with. Ice Spice’s debut album Y2K! was dubbed “beyond memeification” because she made one too many potty jokes, Taylor Swift’s The Life of a Showgirl, likewise, faced ridicule for being “cringey.” All in all, Miles is good at what does, and through his pursuits (or lack thereof), he also succeeds at making the audience laugh.
If we can value songs for good production or because of beautiful flowering lyricism, then surely we can attribute value to music because it’s so bad it’s funny or just for being funny period. We have seen artists succeed at making songs that maybe aren’t lyrically substantial, but they sound great, or vice versa. I don’t think this is any different. Music is valued for its evocation of emotions—can’t that include humor? You might say that the emotions people get out of listening to a Miles rap or any comedic song are just as valid. Miles’ music does have a level of skill to it, even if its sound of the music itself quite so pleasant. The value of music doesn’t necessarily have to come from how technically good it is; it has whatever value you attribute to it.
You have to respect Miles’ success, whether it was intentional or not. He isn’t hurting anybody (except maybe his grandma?), and I look forward to getting blocked by him someday for implying that he is, to some degree, good. Only time will tell. Until then, I’ll leave you all with some of his words to live by: “Bitch, I’m a fly, I’m bout to jump into the sky / They say no, I say yes.”
