A storm threatened to cancel the Rare Breed event this past Wednesday night.

As volunteers scrambled to get the crew’s equipment under cover, the nearby high school offered them shelter. 

Concertgoers waited patiently in its hallway, braving the humidity- filling the air with excitement.

Something otherworldly had brought me here, and I mused. 

I first saw Rare of Breed’s video while I lived in California- before I knew Holy Culture existed.

While working on this piece a year later, I came face-to-face with the man himself in my hometown. 

And when I saw he had a show planned here, I felt compelled to speak to him. 

God was at work here, and I looked to Heaven for guidance.

A voice cut through the silence. 

He is a bridge…

Coming back to the present, I stepped inside the gym. 

Rare of Breed, the Man

It was loud and chaotic but peaceful too.

Little kids danced on the court floor, music playing as we waited. 

My eyes took in many older faces, grey hairs peppering the crowd of mostly middle-aged adults of all colors: Black, White, and shades in between here to listen to rap; hip-hop in the backroads of America. 

Rare of Breed was the bridge connecting us all. 

Born and raised in North Carolina, Rob Hardin was placed in foster care at 8. He began peddling drugs as a minor and even did a stint in military school- until he landed in jail at 18. Strung out and broken in mind and soul, he found Jesus in 2011 when a stranger told him she loved him and invited him to church. 

Shedding his old self, it didn’t cross his mind to rap for Christ, yet here he was. 

After each song, he stopped and spoke to the crowd. Remembering the altar call that changed his life, God freeing him from addiction, and learning to wait on God’s timing. 

I looked around at the crowd as they took him in. 

Weathered bodies that spoke of hidden hardships, tattooed faces that had seen too much, all listening and nodding. In his twang, they heard a kindred spirit; in his lyrics, they found hope.                                                       

Rare of Breed, the Music

As I crouched down by the speakers, entranced by the rhythm of the beat, I couldn’t help but think how wrongly Rare of Breed’s music has been labeled as country rap.

This was hip-hop. 

His delivery was fast, lyrics blazing with the power of his faith, keeping perfect time with the music. 

It was far from country and not totally CHH either.

Rare of Breed was the bridge where the two genres met and collided in the explosion of GodTwang. 

And it was something else. 

After a successful performance, I was able to catch up with him via phone as he began the first leg of his tour to get some insights into what I had seen.

That was such an awesome show last night and I was surprised by the sound. People often say this artist “has a unique sound,” and no offense to them- but I think it’s really true in your case! Can you talk about the evolution of your music, going from secular rap to what you have now? What was that process like?

Well, my dad and uncle did country and bluegrass, and I didn’t want to do that. But I felt God telling me to go back to my roots. 

As I was writing and rapping, it evolved, like you said, with a twang. And as I was making it, I saw there was no one sounding like that. 

You’ve been labeled country rap, but that is so inaccurate. Only a handful of people do it, and it sounds nothing like you. You are definitely doing a new thing.

Yeah, country rap is very simple and backwood; not lyrical at all. 

What we have here is a little country and a little hip-hop, put it together, and you make GodTwang. This is what this is.

Speaking of GodTwang…why three iterations? You have GodTwang 1,2, and 3; why not call it something else? 

If it aint broke don’t fix it. [chuckles softly]

You know, it’s like when Lil Wayne first started making music, right? He had Carter 1, 2,  and 3. It was like a stamp. So Godtwang 1,2,3, it works.

The first I thought about the name I called Nate- he was the spoken word guy from last night; I’ve known him since we were twelve- so I called him and said, “I think I’ma call it GodTwang.” Nate was like, “I don’t know about that, I don’t know about that.” 

After praying about it, he called me back and said, “Yes, that’s the name.” 

So would you say then that your music influences are more country then? Or hip-hop?

I like country: Allen Jackson and Garth Brooks, but I like bluegrass more- like Ricky Skaggs. 

Bluegrass has a faster sound, and if you hear my delivery, it comes out. 

But I think I was more influenced by hip-hop: Outkast and Bone Thugs, those guys. 

That hip-hop generation had so much more substance, whereas mainstream music now is kind of vapid. Your music has a lot of depth and hope and comes across clearly. And people respond to that! Let’s talk about that. I was watching your audience. There were grandmas in wheelchairs, teens, kids, and people in their fifties and sixties; everyone knew your music. They knew every word- that was so wild to me to see all those generations in one place. Do you see that often, or is that just here?

We see that everywhere we go.

When you’ve been doing ministry for so long, you get used to only a handful of people showing up, and there is still fruit in that. But usually, when we go to these small towns, it’s packed!

And we see people of all ages, some of them will drive eight hours or more to see us play. 

Is that by design? Going to small cities, I mean?

People always ask me why don’t I go to big cities. Like: why are you here? No one ever comes here, and I say, ‘That’s why I’m here.’

I’m from a small town, so that’s where I choose to go. 

In smaller towns, I feel like people have a heart for traditional values, for God, and for community. Not saying that your music wouldn’t do well in big cities, but these are your people in a matter of speaking. Looking around at those at the show, I don’t think I’d see some of them attending shows for the big names of CHH. 

Absolutely. And I told my wife that these are the people that are not being reached by them [big names in CHH]. So if I don’t reach them, who will? 

I also think here your seed falls in richer soil; your message is well received – and from there, it spreads outward.

Absolutely.

*****

The show ended with an altar call. He told his audience he would love to meet every single one of them and pray for them in their need. 

The line filled quickly, and I was content to sit on the sidelines and watch.

People came up to the rapper they came to see, not because of who he was but because they were desperate for prayer. 

He hugged them, listened to them, and interceded on their behalf. 

And in the end, a few came to Christ.

I had wondered all along what his ministry was like apart from music. 

As people poured out their suffering on him, and others worshipped with hands lifted as they waited- I realized THIS is Rare of Breed’s ministry. 

The perfect combination of DJ Winn’s beats, Adam Thompson’s guitar, and Just Nate’s spoken word had created a space for God to do big things in a small high school gymnasium. 

Rare of Breed Stands in the Gap

The downpour had derailed my plans for the in-person interview I had prepared for. My backpack full of equipment stared up at me, unopened and forlorn. 

But part of me thinks it was Providence that brought the storm here- the plan had been to do the interview and pictures before the event, leaving Rare of Breed to perform unhindered by me. 

As I saw my chance slip away, I had no choice but to go and bear witness to the whisper I heard that night. 

He was a bridge unto himself, not just between generations but a crossover of genres, creating a blend of music through the conduit of his testimony.

Rare of Breed and his eclectic crew of artists- we are a sight to behold. 

In theory, it did not make sense, but in practice, each contributed to God’s flow to reach souls.  

Adam very much country.

Nate and DJ Winn hip-hop, with Rare of Breed standing in the gap for anyone who would listen.