Themes such as personal anxiety, insecurity, uncertainty, the sense of a rigged system, and the search for self-worth – or ‘dignity’ – run through Lex’s lyrics. [Dimitris Mougos]
The widespread surprise at the remarkable success of Greek rapper Lex is often tied to the fact that his rise didn’t follow the conventional routes of the music industry – namely record labels, television networks, radio stations, or established media outlets. Yet, in the digital age, it would be misguided to assume that musical creativity and recognition must still pass through these traditional channels.
Since the early 2000s – and especially after the 2010s – new dominant platforms have emerged: YouTube, Spotify, and various online services have become the primary means for promoting contemporary music trends. Hip-hop, in particular, along with its many subgenres, has found its natural home in these digital spaces. Younger generations not only rely on these platforms for entertainment but also use them to explore unconventional and alternative sounds. It’s worth noting that trap music, wildly popular among younger listeners, has followed the same promotional pathways in recent years.
The fact that much of Greek society – still largely tuned into traditional media – was unfamiliar with the phenomenon of Lex does not mean he was invisible. Nor does it suggest he failed to harness the tools of music dissemination that align with the digital era and the nonconformist style he embodies. On the contrary, Lex’s case highlights the fragmentation of today’s music audiences. His success, however, cannot be attributed solely to the medium.
Amid the prolonged crisis in Greek society, few – if any – songwriters from older musical traditions such as rock, “entechno” (arthouse), “laiko” (folk pop) have managed to articulate in a cohesive way the complex emotions and experiences born during this era, particularly for younger generations. Lex, by drawing on rap – the dominant musical language of youth over the past two decades – may be the only artist to successfully capture and express the angry melancholy of this time. Although he describes his work as “anti-poetry,” what he truly produces is a more refined, poetic voice within the broader tradition of denunciatory rhyme that many Greek rappers craft. He is not alone in this approach, but he is one of the few whose lyrics resonate so deeply that they have become a defining soundtrack of modern youth ambivalence – bridging the various currents of hip-hop in Greece.
It’s no coincidence that at his concerts – illuminated by the flares of thousands of fans – his lyrics transform into something akin to political or soccer chants, echoed back with deep emotion by the crowd.
In one of his rare interviews, Lex characteristically stated that the subculture he represents is not defined by class, political affiliation, fan loyalty, or even musical taste, but by a shared perception that the modern world is dominated by pervasive injustice. His generation – the one that grew up and came of age before and during Greece’s economic crisis – is, as he describes it, the generation of doubt. As he puts it: “It’s like we asked for the right to question – and they gave us doubt, straight to the vein.”
Themes such as personal anxiety, insecurity, uncertainty, the sense of a rigged system, and the search for self-worth – or “dignity” – run through Lex’s lyrics. These are filtered through the language of rap, a genre long associated with a real or imagined fringe.
His songs speak to and for those who cannot – or choose not to – conform to dominant norms, who embrace their contradictions, and who exhibit a moral flexibility in a world where values are increasingly fluid.
Within this context, Lex does not shy away from the familiar tropes of rap’s countercultural worldview. His work includes references to “cops,” fetishized clothing brands, delinquent behaviors, and a portrayal of his city (“Salouga”) as a distinctively neglected, quasi-ghettoized urban landscape.
However, these elements – drawn from the international mythology of hip-hop – do not dominate his message, and crucially, they do not glorify drug dealing, gun violence, prostitution, or the cynicism of easy success, as is often the case in mainstream trap music. On the contrary, they are frequently subjects of pointed critique.
These symbols, alongside often bitter allusions to popular culture – soccer, video games, cinema, and television – serve a broader narrative function. They illustrate a deep social and existential impasse, a difficulty in grasping reality, and ultimately, a need for a furious response to the experience of generalized chaos.
In the wake of the post-pandemic revival of live music, Lex and his concerts symbolize more than just the shift to new platforms of musical fame. They point to the emergence of a new cultural figure who channels and unites diverse youth experiences shaped by the crises of recent decades. This convergence takes place not only in new or virtual spaces, but also in physical venues – most notably in stadiums, which have long served as symbolic arenas for collective expression in Greek music history.
The massive concerts of Giorgos Dalaras and Dionysis Savvopoulos at the Olympic Stadium (OAKA) in the 1980s marked a significant cultural shift, severing the connection between live music and the political activism of the early post-dictatorship era. Now, decades later, a Greek artist returning to the same venue may signal something equally significant – perhaps the emergence of an ideologically unfiltered collective melancholy, one that Lex both articulates and performs.
Vassilis Vamvakas is a professor of sociology of communication at the Aristotle University of Thessaloniki.
