Rhetoryk: How an Indianapolis Artist Found His Voice — and Built Space for Others to Do the Same

Indianapolis hip-hop artist Rhetoryk didn’t grow into music through the typical industry pipeline. He didn’t attend a prestigious conservatory or rise from behind the boards of some major recording studio. Instead, his path began quietly — late nights in a dorm room at Ball State University, a microphone set up next to textbooks, and a young artist determined to find his voice. 

Balancing schoolwork and songwriting wasn’t the struggle one might imagine. What was difficult, however, was overcoming stage fright. “Confidence was my biggest battle,” he admits. “I had to teach myself how to be comfortable on stage. So I went to every open mic I could find.” Performing became a kind of exposure therapy, and with the support of his creative brothers — the collective 3rd4low — he began to feel like he belonged in the scene.

His first official performance was in September 2011. Fourteen years later, Rhetoryk has shared stages with respected artists, co-hosts one of the city’s most prominent open mics, and continues to evolve in ways he never expected.

But the breakthrough moment — the performance that reshaped his trajectory — happened in 2017 at The Jazz Kitchen. “Simon Sed invited Illogic to town, and asked me to open,” he says. “That was huge. It was also my first time performing with a live band — Saint Aubin — and the energy was unreal.”

The experience sparked something inside him. “It was a metamorphosis,” he recalls. “Performing with a band elevated everything — the emotion, the delivery, the connection with the crowd. I realized live instrumentation was where I wanted to take my music.” It also began a partnership with Simon Sed that led to one of his most meaningful roles: co-hosting Lyrics & Libations, a monthly open mic gathering that has become a key creative outlet for Indianapolis artists.

“I got my start at open mics. They’re where I learned how to perform, where I found community,” he says. “So being able to now provide that same space is incredibly fulfilling.” For Rhetoryk, L&L is more than just a show — it’s a training ground, a networking hub, and a safe place to fail while learning. “We give people encouragement, but also real feedback,” he explains. “We want to see artists grow — not just get applause.”

He has strong thoughts on what growth actually requires. “A lot of people see someone perform well and think it’s natural talent,” he says. “But breath control? Stage presence? Nailing every lyric without backing vocals? That’s years of practice. Not just on stage, but in my house, in my car, anywhere I can.”

He pauses, then adds, “For me, I want the song memorized before I even record it. That way, when I step into the booth, the focus is on elevating the song — layering, harmonies — not scrambling to learn basic delivery.”

That discipline is partly what shapes the contrast between his solo projects and collaborations. “My solo music is very conceptual,” he says. “I build an overarching theme for the entire album. With collaborations, it’s more fluid — a track-by-track approach.” When he and Simon Sed worked on their joint project, the producer Fresh Kils would send beats, and they’d each pick favorites and build songs organically from there. “We never forced anything,” he explains. “We just waited for concepts to hit.”

Concept is everything for him — especially when the writing draws from lived experience. His music has often been rooted in pain and survival. “I’ve written about watching my dad struggle with addiction and incarceration, and growing up with a single parent,” he says. “I always felt out of place — going to these predominantly white, affluent schools while my family was financially struggling.”

That honesty has turned his discography into a story of endurance. But something has been shifting lately. “My wife challenged me to write about the good things, too,” he says with a smile. “Love. Accomplishment. Fatherhood.” His upcoming album — slated for spring of 2026 — explores healing as deeply as hardship. “This project has songs about overcoming a neck injury, continuing my education, and the joys of being a husband and a dad,” he shares. “It feels like growth.”

He credits Kendrick Lamar as a major influence — not in style, but in narrative complexity. “Kendrick’s albums are cohesive. Every detail matters. That’s what I strive for — a complete body of work.”

In many ways, Indianapolis — a city often underestimated — mirrors his journey. “The hip-hop scene here is constantly evolving,” he says. “Festivals like Chreece help spotlight the community and bring industry eyes to Indy.” Still, he says the scene struggles with fragmentation. “We have multiple little scenes — some overlap, some don’t. Competition is part of hip-hop, sure. But when it turns divisive, it holds us all back.”

His message to the city is one of collaboration: “If we don’t support each other, how can we expect the industry to support us?”

And for fans just discovering him? There are two places he points them. The first is Perspective (2019), his album blending introspective rap with spoken word — a nod to the poetry he began writing at age 11. The second is “Wisdom,” a standout track from his 2021 project Serenity. “Wisdom probably represents me best right now,” he says. “It’s about applying hard-earned lessons — taking pain and turning it into clarity.”

He returns always to the heart of why he creates. “Music is therapy for me,” he says. “Creating it, performing it, supporting others — it gives me fulfillment. It lifts me up on my darkest days.”

As he prepares for his most ambitious album yet, one thing is clear: Rhetoryk isn’t just rising — he’s building a foundation beneath him so others can rise, too.