Marcel Winatschek

Another Rapper, Another Beer

Every rapper eventually launches a beverage. It’s as inevitable as the first NFT project or the signature sneaker that nobody asked for. Bausa got his turn—slapped his face on a can of Gude and called it an Artist Edition.

The brilliance is how little effort it requires. Show up for a photoshoot, drink something while cameras roll, let marketing people explain why your brand and beer somehow complement each other. Whether he’s actually tasted more than a courtesy sip is irrelevant. The transaction is complete once his face appears on the label.

I almost respect the straightforwardness of it. No invented origin story about passion for brewing or some mystical discovery process. He just showed up and let his reputation do the work. That’s cleaner than most celebrity ventures, which tie themselves in knots justifying why the founder supposedly cares about this specific thing. At least there’s no pretense.

When I was younger, musicians seemed like they were actually trying to make art. Now they’re all just managing their brands, which is probably more honest than I’m giving it credit for. The art and the business have always been the same thing, but used to be the musicians pretended otherwise. Bausa’s at least not bothering with that particular fiction.

Still, there’s something bleak about watching this cycle repeat. Every artist with any cultural relevance suddenly has a beer, an energy drink, a fragrance. The brand replaces the person. Now when I think of Bausa, I see that can before I hear any of his actual songs.