

By the time of his death, he’d made loosies, mixtapes, a smattering of features, and two albums, including “?,” which débuted at No. Onfroy seemed to add to his catalogue impulsively.
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His early songs were howls, his rapping agile but his voice cracked the production was bruised and unpolished. (“Only time I feel pain, when I’m feelin’ love.”) He started uploading music to SoundCloud, in 2013. He spent the rest of his time in the basements and studios of friends, where he assembled the scraps and fragments of his psyche into paeans to disaffection, to his depression, to Xanax and the numbing it brought, and to women, whom he viewed as devourers of his soul. Onfroy spent his late childhood and adolescence in and out of juvenile-detention centers, for charges ranging from robbery to assault. In response, he “slapped the shit out of her and kneed her.” Onfroy said that his mom was surprised she “realized how seriously I took her.” Later, he would get her name-Cleopatra-tattooed on his chest. In a recent interview with the Miami New Times, he told the reporter Tarpley Hitt that his mother once gave him permission to retaliate against a female classmate who was hitting him as a form of juvenile flirtation. Onfroy said, in an interview with the podcast “No Jumper,” in 2016, that he would instigate fights in grade school as a ploy to get her attention. His mother was a teen-ager when she had him, and she drifted in and out of his life, bringing lavish gifts and leaving sizable voids. Onfroy was born in Plantation, Florida, in 1998, and raised in Broward County, primarily by his grandmother. But reflecting on Onfroy’s legacy also requires a frank confrontation with the malignity he inflicted. The death of Onfroy and that of Lil Peep, in November of last year, are alarming signs of the recklessness governing the new-money life styles of certain young Internet celebrities, who are the inheritors of America’s dangerous crises of mental health, drug abuse, and masculinity. We lament the beauty gone, think forlornly of the future art the cruel present has stolen. Usually, when musicians die as young and as tragically as Onfroy, they are the subject of hagiography. And his jagged confessional music, which enraptured millions, sprang nakedly from that violence. Onfroy lived his short life chaotically, violently. (On Wednesday night a twenty-two-year-old suspect was arrested and charged with first-degree murder.) The killers made off with a Louis Vuitton bag. He was confirmed dead at a local hospital a short while later. The Broward County Sheriff’s Office confirmed that Onfroy had been shot in broad daylight. On Monday, an eyewitness video obtained by TMZ circulated on social media, showing Jahseh Onfroy, better known as the artist XXXTentacion, slumped in the driver’s seat of his black BMW outside of a motorcycle dealership in Deerfield Beach, Florida.
