August 12th, 2009
Tha Liks’ didn’t look to Jimi Hendrix for sonic suggestions, but for chemical inspiration. Not the acid in the headband Hendrix, but the so drunk-he-choked-on-his own-vomit Jimi–except J-Ro, Tash, and E-Swift held their liquor far better. Had they gone the other route, gobbled acid, and sampled psychedelic guitar solos, they would’ve inevitably been critics darlings–or at least scored the Edan/MF Doom vote. Instead, the X.O. Experience, refined a simple but effective brew of party raps dedicated to their ability to drink gallons of X.O. Cognac and procure the finest smoke the city of Angels had to offer. Even a Mormon would be hard-pressed to hear this and not want to crack open a 40.
Rappers like Tha Liks often get outflanked in favor of artists that are either more abstract or more concrete. And granted, searching for introspection on their records is like staring into an empty bottle. But few groups ever sounded like they were having more fun. Busta Rhymes, Xzibit, Kurupt, and King Tee stumble into the studio. E-Swift worked the boards, except on the album’s lead singles, “Best U Can” and “Run Wild,” featuring the Neptunes and Rockwilder in their prime. There are few Saturday night party records better than the X.O. Experience. If you don’t enjoy it, you probably just need to follow their advice and smoke something…drink something.–Jeff Weiss
Download:
MP3: Tha Liks-”Run Wild”
MP3: Tha Liks-”Best U Can”
Posted in The Next Spot, Top 50 Rap Albums of the '00s | 1 Comment »
August 11th, 2009
Three jerks and an SP-1200 walk into the record bins at the Salvation Army…that’s not the beginning of a joke, it’s what Pimps don’t Pay Taxes sounds like. Capturing the last gasp of Gulliani era “Fuck you, asshole!” New York and spitting it back over lo-fi 1950’s movie loops, the album casts J-Zone and the Old Maid Billionaires as the ultimate rap shmucks. These guys couldn’t do anything right: hold their liquor, hold down a job, get the girl or even bust a damn nut without catching VD. Fuck swagger, these guys lacked basic social skills. I mean, Zone cons a platonic friend into sex by buying out Macy’s and then proceeds to drug her and return the gear! Who the hell does that? And why didn’t I think of it first? Don’t even get me started about the beats: if you never considered sampling an elderly Eastern European’s record collection to make an indie rap classic, this album will make you think again; it’s all wobbly violin loops, hollow drums and quotes from 1$ Matinee movies out in Time Square. Along with Quasimoto’s Unseen it’s one of the last great records molded by the sound of this ancient, finicky but brilliant sounding piece of equipment, a sound sorely missed for most of this decade.
It’s unsurprising that J-Zone went in new directions after this record: who wants to be the loveable loser when everyone else in your city is pushing a Bentley? But 10 years later, now that the Stock Brokers are working at McDonalds and the trust fund kids are running out of cash to pay for their Williamsburg lofts, this is a good reminder of what New York sounds like when you’re broke. –Sach O
Download:
MP3: J-Zone-”Live From Pimp Palace East”
MP3: J-Zone-”I’m Fucking Up for the Money”
Posted in Top 50 Rap Albums of the '00s, Sach O | No Comments »
August 11th, 2009
In 2006, an unknown group out of Oakland dropped an album full of clubs, hoes and fly clothes. Built on blissed-out electronic rhythms inspired by the Bay Area’s Ecstasy culture, The Team composed of Clyde Carson, Kaz Kaizah and (then occasional member) Mayne Mannish seemed determined to bring the player back to national attention. Almost totally ignoring tough-talk in favor of boasting and celebrating, the album sounds like nothing else this decade: a club record that actually captures the feeling of chemically enhanced, neon colored summer weekend. What the Clipse did for Kool G Rap and Raekwon, The Team did for Oakland pimp Too $hort and post murda Ma$e, elevating Bapes, mamis and drugs into a fetish for their own sake. The result is arguably the least Hyphy album to be lumped in with the movement, a G-Funk throwback that predated everything positive about the late 00’s generation of rappers without any of their smug self-consciousness.
The production alone is the best thing you’ve never heard: the intro interpolates a Harry Potter/NFL them into a ¾ time locker room anthem, “Bottles Up”, “On One” and “Top of the World” somehow make MDMA rap sound like a good, nay GREAT idea and “Touch the Sky”, “Summertime in the Town” and the Too $hort tribute “Player” update the Cali anthem for the millennial generation. Even the high-energy “Just Go” and “Hyphy Juice” make sense in the right context: I dare you not to lose your shit to em’ on a good system.
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Posted in Bonus Blurbs, Top 50 Rap Albums of the '00s, Sach O | 7 Comments »
August 10th, 2009
These ballots were only mailed out to people who promised they would vote for Sage Francis and MC Lars records. Requirements for suffrage included owning at least four backpacks made of the finest Jansport and three Fidel Castro caps. Those without goatees need not apply. I informed Jonathan Bradley that if he voted for Young Jeezy he couldn’t wear Wallabees for a month. When he wasn’t looking, I changed his ballot to include “Electric Circus” twenty-five times, primarily because Lonnie Lynn looks dreamy in wool.
People were told to vote for their favorite albums. Hating on someone for their tastes is dumber than lecturing on what type of coffee to order. Unless you’re ordering Soy Venti Macchiato Caramel Lattes, just let it slide. And who are you to judge? Maybe one day you’ll like Soy Venti Macchiato Caramel Lattes. Doctors say they were the only beverage option that might have saved Big Moe.
Look at the lists, listen to the albums, the rest of the week will be spent highlighting great records that didn’t “get enough votes” (scare quotes because I am the Joe Kennedy of journalism.) –Jeff Weiss
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August 7th, 2009
10. 50 Cent — Get Rich or Die Tryin’ (2003)
50 Cent has somehow gone from beloved gangster rap underdog (Vice magazine was one of his earliest champions) to tolerated mainstream icon (complaints about Get Rich or Die Tryin’ the movie were surprisingly muted) to sneered-at, underperforming rap cliché, all in about half a decade. Critics loved him when he was telling us how to rob Keith Sweat, but when he bought Rick Ross’ baby mama a fur coat, well, that was over the line. (As for the pubestached youth, they’re not entirely sure what they think of him these days.) Regardless, Get Rich or Die Tryin’ will surely still sound good in 20 years and will likely hold up as the work that most successfully harnessed the dying genre of gangsta rap’s commercial potential. Though it is more light-hearted than Eminem’s albums and tougher than Dre’s albums, it will ultimately be remembered as—to paraphrase R.A. the Rugged Man—that album you and your five-year-old, white, female cousin could both enjoy. From “P.I.M.P.”’s steel drums to “In Da Club”’s birthday-party lead-in to the masterful hip hop power ballad (all too rare, aren’t they?) “21 Questions,” there was something for every family gathering. As for the heads, well, you couldn’t find any more sinister summer-blazers than “What Up Gangsta” and “Wanksta.” The beauty of 50’s image was that, although you believed he would shoot his adversaries in the head, you also believed that the two of you would be fast friends. That’s a fine line to walk, and one he hasn’t walked since.—Ben Westhoff
MP3: 50 Cent-”Heat”
09. J Dilla — Donuts (2006)
There’s a tall stack of classic hip hop records that stand heavy with the weight of their creators’ reflections on mortality, but few of them are as immediately affected by it as the self-eulogy of Donuts. It’s the sound of a restlessly evolving producer realizing he no longer has all the time in the world, and using what he has left to summarize everything he loved about making music. It’s there in the heartbreak of a longing vocal from Dionne Warwick or the Escorts or the Three Degrees, the retro-futuristic aspirations of a vintage electronic Raymond Scott composition, the sophisticated funk bounce of Kool & the Gang, the call-to-arms siren scream of Mantronix—all connecting in the framework of what may be the perfect, final culmination of hip hop sample culture.
—Nate Patrin
MP3: J Dilla-”Workinonit”
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August 6th, 2009
20. Common — Be (2005)
Ever held out hope that one day your favorite artist’s stars would align for them to create an opus? They’d find creative lyrics, content that matched their maturity level and a production quality that held it all together. That’s been my journey with Chicago’s Lonnie Lynn and me—he as an artist and me as an avid follower reached that pinnacle with 2005’s Be. With Kanye handling the bulk of the production, the sound stage was set and Common excelled by doing a range of styles (the story of “Testify” and the fast-paced hum of “Go”) while managing to tackle adult content (”Faithful” and “Love Is”) and still
proved himself lyrical (”Chi-City” and “The Corner”).
—John Gotty
MP3: Common-”Chi City”
19. Slum Village — The Fantastic Vol. 2 (2000)
There’s never been an apt comparison for Slum Village—individually and collectively, they’re simply three weird dudes.
From Detroit.
If you look at hip hop post-Vol. 2, you begin to realize how weird a lot of MC’s and producers really are and how tired fellow Native Tongue-like cats were of being boxed into the asexual, tree-huggin’ category of “conscious rap.” The Roots, Common, Mos Def, and more immediately became more loose, more funky, more profane, and more whimsical after Vol. 2 was released. Dilla’s soul warming beats played a huge part, sure. But more importantly, T3 and Baatin simultaneously lowered the lyrical bar while raising the stakes on content for rappers who weren’t flat out gangsta nor subterranean.
Fantastic Vol. 2 is S Villa inviting the uptight, serious minded haters over to a house party, and then blowin’ trees and smashing said haters’ jawns in the spare bedrooms. “Players” is actually a diss record to some cats in the D; it’s also drenched in disco claps and has a bass line that sounds like how gummy worms taste. “Get Dis Money” celebrates success after toiling in obscurity “where the radio would never ever play some of that Detroit Motor City” funk (and it’s arguably their best song). “Raise It Up” is some ignant-ass Big Willie gangsta shit over sweet Terminator synths that welcome you and then ultimately bash your skull in.
Fantastic Vol. 2 is groundbreaking because it doesn’t require work to listen to it, yet it’s just as technically fascinating and quirky as more celebrated and cerebral albums. And that’s the best kind of innovation: when no one knows at the time that the game is being changed because we’re too busy singing “I don’t know why the fuck I’m fucking with you… you, you, you!”
—Zilla Rocca
MP3: Slum Village-”Get Dis Money”
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Posted in Top 50 Rap Albums of the '00s | 16 Comments »
August 5th, 2009
30. El-P — I’ll Sleep When You’re Dead (2007)
The migraine mid-point between Nine Inch Nails and the Bomb Squad. Math rap. Bombs + Nails = the sort of weapon built by suicide squads intent on creating obscene carnage. If last time, the damage was fantastic, now it’s fatal. El-P’s masterpiece is both explicit and subtle, political and apolitical—a snarling, maladjusted multi-tentacled beast capable of belting you in the stomach and picking your pocket in one foul swoop.
Like all geniuses, Jamie Meline has an attitude problem, a natural abrasiveness addled by a half-decade on the sidelines watching the last vapors of American dream dissipate. Those were schizophrenic times, hazily recalled in these hamstrung days of lost swagger and partially regained pride. If you ever forget what it felt like during that tabloid torpor of shaved Spears heads and Schiavo, Abu Ghraib and Ashcroft, listen to I’ll Sleep When You’re Dead. Not only did El-P mainline the collective unconscious, he simultaneously established an entirely new paradigm for Five-Borough rap.
While his peers tried to re-create the New York sound, El-P tried to capture what the city sounds like: jackhammers, car alarms, horns and hangovers, the voices of everyone from Cat Power, to TV on the Radio, to Trent Reznor himself, disguised and warped like a cocaine nightmare. When the self-professed “Brooklyn baby / Waterlocked, walkin’ nervous” declared that his “gonzomatic fear was turning him Hunter S. Thompson,” he spoke for everyone who understood the idea that it isn’t paranoia when they’re really out to get you. —Jeff Weiss
MP3: El-P–”Poisenville Kids Reprise/No Wins (This Must Be Our Time)
29. Wale — The Mixtape About Nothing (2008)
Yeah, that new Discovery album would be absolutely worthless if it didn’t provide a death blow to Sasha Frere-Jones’ well-intentioned but completely dubious complaint about how indie rock can only benefit from adopting African-American styles of music. Of course, the most obvious response was every bit as dubious, if not well-intentioned: shouldn’t it be a two-way street? Well, that’s how we ended up with XXL Freshman 10 Rap, wherein rappers who might otherwise be worth a shit co-opted everything entitled and annoying about indie rock culture, ending up with a microgenre that became a joke even compared to the likes of hip-house, horrorcore, ringtone rap and intimate crunk. At least those had some kind of commercial viability, however short-lived.
In that context, it’s all the more amazing that Wale’s Mixtape About Nothing came from this scene—where his peers had their heads firmly shoved up their ass, Wale was intelligent, thoughtful and coherent. Instead of jacking for beats by getting his fingers dusty in Stereogum’s year-end list, he found inspiration in mid-90’s East Coast knock, DC electro and trap beats, essentially distilling the essence of being a 21st century rap fan with no qualms about region recognition. Of course, a trail of collaborations with the likes of 9th Wonder, Lady Gaga and TV On The Radio is worrying to everyone hoping he ends up making a non-shitty record on Interscope, but as is, The Mixtape About Nothing at least made it feel like suffering through Charles Hamilton and Asher Roth was worth it at some point. —Ian Cohen
MP3: Wale-”The Kramer”
28. The Game — The Documentary (2005)
Imagine the 2000 Portland Trailblazers winning three championships in a row instead of the Lakers or the 2004 Yankees; a team where the most obscure everyday player was Miguel Cairo, steamrolling the Red Sox and St. Louis Cardinals for their 27th championship.Dr. Dre and 50 Cent literally bought themselves a championship when constructing The Documentary for Jayceon Taylor. This album needs to be held in a CD case for the rest of its existence; the liner notes make the comparisons to the Jailblazers and George Steinbrenner apt.Beats by:
- Dr. Dre
- Scott Storch
- Just Blaze
- Timbaland
- Kanye West
- Cool & Dre
- Havoc
- Hi-Tek
- Buckwild
- Mr. Porter
- Eminem
- Focus
- Needlz
Read that list again.For a newcomer who had a non-descript flow, an addiction to name dropping almost every entertainer in the business, and a fetish for lyrically placing himself in the lead roles of Boyz N Da Hood and Menace II Society, The Game hit the Powerball. Timbaland and Kanye supplied two of the heaviest bangers of their careers (“Put You On the Game”, “Dreams”). 50 Cent unveiled the most realistic depiction of his childhood ever for 20 bars on “Hate it or Love It.” And Just Blaze detonated two pipe bombs that were strictly album cuts (“Church for Thugs”, “No More Fun and Games”).Some guys release great albums on a whim or by making the right material at the right time. The Game’s The Documentary is the most non-organic classic hip hop LP arguably ever. Anti-Illmatic in its inception, pro-Michael Bay in its content and focus group testing. It’s hip hop’s “We Are the World” and The Game is Dan Akroyd in the back row of the video, just happy to be in the same room as Steve Perry, Cyndi Lauper, and Hall & Oates.—Zilla Rocca
MP3: The Game ft. 50 Cent-”Hate it or Love it”
27. Edan — Beauty and the Beat (2005)
Edan Portnoy had one goal while crafting his second album: to “put Syd Barrett’s face on Biz Markie’s body” with “Kool G Rap’s brain”. The Boston-born producer/rapper pulled samples of psychedelic rock, 60s pop, and garage rock through the filter of late 80s hip hop to shape Beauty and the Beat’s distinctive sound.
Edan’s flow is vaguely reminiscent of a young LL or G Rap, but his golden age influences become more evident on specific tracks. Bronx pioneer Percee P pops up on battle rap seminar “Torture Chamber”, ferociously ripping through the churning guitars of Pink Floyd’s “On The Run”. “Fumbling Over Words That Rhyme” is a history lesson on the evolution of the emcee, from Cold Crush to Nas. “The Science of the Two” pairs Edan with fellow Bostonian Insight as the two trade lines over murder mystery organs that mutate into a slowed-down flip of ESG’s “UFO”. Edan strings together an impressive array of band names over the scorching guitars of “Rock N Roll”, making him probably the first rapper to mention the 13th Floor Elevators and the Pretty Things in his rhymes. He even acknowledges his psych-rap predecessors on “I See Colours”, confessing to copping the same loop Prince Paul used for “Open Your Mouth”.
The genius of Beauty and the Beat lies in its knack for framing psychedelic rock conventions in a hip-hop context. “Smile” spills over with feedback, as a backwards guitar loop accompanies Edan’s tale of a troubled musical visionary. “Making Planets” samples L.A. garage/psych band The Music Machine’s version of “Hey Joe”, which morphs into a forceful blues rock riff for Mr. Lif’s fierce guest verse. Beauty and the Beat’s quality transcends accusations of gimmickry; Edan’s fusion of 60s psychedelia and 80s hip hop is not only creative, it’s eminently listenable. Who knew rock and roll could hip hop like this?—Aaron Matthews
MP3: Edan-”Beauty”
26. OutKast — Speakerboxxx/The Love Below (2003)
Other OutKast albums may be lyrically more inventive (Aquemini) or may have spawned more hits (Stankonia), but no OutKast album better reflects the dichotomy within the band itself. Big Boi and Andre 3000, while friends and partners, are vastly different, and these two solo-albums-sold-together, were the perfect mechanism to celebrate those differences.Big Boi’s Speakerboxxx featured witty tales of street life, dressing smart, and partying, with amazing hits like “The Way You Move,” “Bowtie,” and “Church.”
Dre’s album was more experimental, offering only one monster single (“Hey Ya”) to conventional OutKast fans. In fact, Andre produced Kelis’ “Millionaire” and Gwen Stefani’s “Long Way to Go” for The Love Below, but chose not to include these top 40 hits.The result was a moody, wild ride through Andre’s consistently off-beat imagination.Together, these albums showcase the power of hip hop to create both traditional “songs” and genre-crossing compositions. I can’t think of any band that has ever done this better.—Ethan Kalett (Ekko)
MP3: Big Boi-”Flip Flop Rock”
25. Ghostface Killah — The Pretty Toney Album (2004)
One of the great ironies of Ghostface Killah’s chameleonic solo career is the more he actively chased commercial success, the more fervently it eluded him. The Pretty Toney Album is Ghost’s most brazenly commercial move of his career and inversely, it’s also an album that decidedly sold plastic wood grain numbers. Acknowledging this truth does not mean that the Pretty Toney Album is a bad record. Far from it. Dennis Coles simply does not make anything less than classic records and Pretty Toney is no different. The album’s pores are flush with the type of hot buttered soulful goodness that we’ve come to expect from Ghost.
Pretty Toney is like the classic R&B records that provide the lush samples throughout the album. It is dripping with sex and sweetness but with an urban grit and grime alluding to the turmoil of the times that birthed it. The album somehow makes room for the dance club assault of Missy Elliott on “Tush”, Ghost’s mournful crooning over a classic interpretation of the Delfonic’s “La La Means I Love You” on “Holla”, and the unrelenting, how-they-do-that pyrotechnics of Jadakiss-assisted “Run.” Each of these seem perfectly at home on this fascinating record. It’s your move, Jay-Z. —B.J. “The Good Doctor Zeus” Steiner
MP3: Ghostface Killah ft. Jadakiss-”Run”
24. MF DOOM — MM..Food (2004)
Elusive as he may be, MF DOOM can always be counted on to drop a cohesive project, and MM..Food is no exception. Saturated by a spice rack selection of jazz, rock and soul samples, choppy drum breaks, quirky cartoon snippets and other oddball additions, MM..Food is soufflé for the alternative rap addict’s aural taste buds. Fusing the realms of geekdom and purist hip hop, DOOM makes nerd rap cool with his witty lyricism and added zest of boom bap. Though lacking in energetic delivery, DOOM’s clever wordplay nevertheless offers glimpses of comic genius throughout. Unlike most new-gen rap records, which are served as buffet tables with pick-and-choose track selections, MM..Food is enjoyed best in one sitting—a full course meal if you will—fast-forward button unnecessary.—Ivan Rott
MP3: MF Doom-”Kookies”
23. The Roots — Game Theory (2006)
The Roots talked a lot of shit after Things Fall Apart without backing it up. They’d seen their base drop out beneath them and their diehards move on to whiter and powdery pastures. When they finally got around to releasing Phrenology it triggered one of the most pervasive “meh”s ever, and it really didn’t help when they released 2004’s The Tipping Point—an album as lifeless, schizophrenic and unfocused as its predecessor.
But Game Theory was an absolute triumph. By revisiting the relentless tenacity and claustrophobic desperation of Illadelph Halflife, the Roots delivered their finest work since, well, Illadelph Halflife.There’s a gritty energy to Game Theory, a focus and sonic scope that’s as far away from the lush Fender Rhodes infested neo-soul as one could possibly hope for. Guitars and strings swell around cascading keyboards, while ?uestlove’s drums (finally) pop with an urgency he’d never quite been able to capture before. Black Thought, meanwhile, remained the prototypical underrated rapper of his time, a real MC whose mastery of rap’s technical skills—flow, breath control, word choice—had been overshadowed by the valid sentiment he had little to no discernible personality or charisma.
On Game Theory, however, Thought sounded completely rejuvenated, hungry for the first time in a decade, and no longer rhyming for the sake of rhyming.The Roots got playful (“Baby”), political (“False Media), and Beck-y (“Living in the New World”). They were still a little preachy about what is and isn’t “the real” (“Don’t Feel Right”), but still willing to let Peedi Peedi rip the shit out of “Long Time Comin.” And while the loss of J. Dilla served as explicit inspiration for the record’s eight-minute sonic exploration, “Can’t Stop This,” Game Theory’s loose playing, but painstaking attention to atmosphere was the true Jay-Dee tribute. With Game Theory, The Roots finally delivered on nearly every once-broken promise. —Barry Schwartz
MP3: The Roots ft. Peedi Peedi-”Long Time Coming”
22. M.O.P. — Warriorz (2000)
Warriorz was the last great boom bap rap album. And not boom bap in the modernized, unquantized hand clap and filtered bassline, adult contemporary for the aging backpacker definition, but boom bap as in the sound of skulls crushed between pavement and Timberlands. The production, handled primarily by DJ Premier and Fame himself, was vintage Brooklyn headphone music. Fame and Danz, too, had fully evolved into great rappers beyond just their rowdy reps. They were funny, nostalgic and unforgiving.—Andrew Noz
MP3: M.O.P.-”Cold as Ice”
21. Common — Like Water for Chocolate (2000)
Recorded during the same sessions as D’Angelo’s Voodoo and Erykah Badu’s Mama’s Gun; Common’s Like Water for Chocolate’s very creation can be viewed as a statement. Openly rejecting gangsta bravado and all-digital production, the album instead found inspiration in the history of black music and the revolutionary politics of the civil rights movement, marking itself as a consciously mature and intellectual alternative to the chart toppers of its era. With Common rapping about love, freedom and the state of the black community,
Like Water for Chocolate earned the Chicago emcee his first taste of mainstream success even as it alienated those who criticized the record as “soft” and lacking the grit of previous releases. Ten years later however, Like Water for Chocolate reveals itself to be a vital testament to one of the decade’s most progressive musical collectives.At the album’s heart lie the grooves of James “Dilla” Yancey, then credited as Jay Dee.
Building on the sparse funk and offbeat sampling of the then-delayed Fantastic Vol. 2, Dilla provided the core of the album’s production, lacing the project with heavy bass, thick drums and laid-back loops. From there, collaborators including ?uestlove, James Poyser, D’Angelo and Kariem Riggins, under the banner of the Soulquarians, would embellish the tracks with added percussion and instrumentation, giving the album a live, organic sound then uncommon to underground hip hop. The high-minded musicality of this collective, along with Common’s increasingly worldly concerns proved that hip hop could age gracefully without losing its edge or dynamic energy. Stretching far beyond the genre’s minimalist roots, the crew pushed the boundaries of what was thought possible in rap musically while still remaining committed to the uncompromising ideology of their predecessors. Though conceived in opposition to the trends of its day, Like Water for Chocolate remains vital not because of what it isn’t but because of the hip hop, funk, jazz, soul, and afrobeat that it is. —Sach O
MP3: Common-”Dooin’ It”
Posted in Top 50 Rap Albums of the '00s | 17 Comments »
August 4th, 2009
40. Nas – The Lost Tapes (2002)
When Illmatic dropped, it was like the rap world stopped. It was a moment when every person that was into real hip hop paused their schedules to fully ingest, process and comprehend the dopeness that was the birth of one our greatest emcess to ever touch the mike. As Nas progressed with his career, still dope, but mad inconsistent with each subsequent release, I lost more and more interest in him as the rap world resumed its hectic pace. I damn near forgot how dope he was, how dope he could be, until Lost Tapes dropped.
It was after “Ether” and it was so cohesive and complete that it reminded me how brilliant Nas was—is. He should have dropped that right after “Illmatic.” No frills, just great understated production and twelve songs that fit together as a complete CD.
MP3: Nas-”Poppa Was a Playa”
—Combat Jack
39. UGK – Underground Kingz (2007)
Take the contrast between Bun B’s composed smoothness and Pimp C’s dagger-stab sneer, and lay those voices over the apotheosis of ‘70s-soul throwback, Southern-style g-funk—a mood perspiring simultaneously with menace, celebration, confidence and anxiety. That’s the immediate musical appeal of UGK, and by the time Underground Kingz came out they’d expanded their post-Tupac haunted gangsta narratives to the extent where carrying a double CD sounded deceptively easy. The guest spots help—an ’88 vintage Too $hort, a triumphantly defiant Z-Ro, Kweli spitting double-time (!), Scarface as the proud godfather, and, most famously, the best performance OutKast’s contributed to rap since Stankonia. But it’s always clear who runs the show on this record, and UGK’s presence—deconstructing the drug and sex trades, defending their home turf, representing the anti-shit-taking ethos of the streets, and coming through it all still sounding like men with consciences—makes this one of rap’s finest antihero statements. 105-degree noir behind the wheel of an Eldorado.
MP3: UGK ft. Outkast-”Intl. Player’s Anthem”
—Nate Patrin
38. The Streets – A Grand Don’t Come for Free (2004)
In theory, it’s the worst sort of album. The self-absorbed, grandiose, convoluted concept record. Mike Skinner is a smart lad, and knew the stakes–alienating his audience and squandering the goodwill built up from his first album was a probability. Then the world got a listen of A Grand Don’t Come for Free, and all was forgiven.
Skinner took a rather mundane storyline, and turned it into one of the edgiest, most contemplative, and striking listening experiences of the decade. Carefully utilizing his casual yet captivating flow—his greatest strength—Skinner keeps his storyline grounded in a way that makes his characters come alive, as if they could be any one of your friends—or even yourself. Considering the ambitiousness of the lyrical content, the most remarkable thing about the record is its deft and sometimes graceful soundtrack. From the hopeless romantic love story of “Could Well Be In” to the paranoia and blurry vision conveyed by “Blinded by the Lights” to the populist-reflective “Empty Cans,” Skinner alleviates his story’s more melodramatic moments by endearing them with the most human of concerns, but stays away from pure sermonizing. And even when Skinner does approach the limits of self-pity and cliché on “Dry Your Eyes,” he embeds it with a chorus so strong you’d have to be born with frostbite not to feel anything.
It’s arguable that the music gets lost among the overall concept, which would be a valid complaint, especially when you consider that Skinner’s career post-Grand seems to center around entirely self-absorbed propositions. But it’s hard to complain about a record so illuminating and special as this, which, over 5 years after its release, still sounds like nothing else out on the market.
MP3: The Streets-”Dry Your Eyes”
—Andrew Casillas
37. El-P – Fantastic Damage (2002)
Like El-P’s heroes the Bomb Squad, Public Enemy’s ear mashing production team, your girlfriend should rightfully hate almost every track on his debut album, 2002’s Fantastic Damage. At least the Bomb Squad produced BBD’s “Poison”.
Dance with the land sharks clutching meat, ugly!
Fantastic Damage could’ve been released during Rawkus’ heyday and still garnered fanfare and critical praise. But it just wouldn’t feel right handing in the most accurate and apocalyptic take on life post-9/11 to a bunch of guys buying used Benzes with “Simon Says” money.
Walking with a bag full of kittens, take me to the river then throw yourself in.
FanDam is Def Jux through and through, and Def Jux has opened the floodgates for successful paranoid rap that’s more Philip K. Dick than Bushwick Bill. It all started with an album about a squeegee man getting killed, a factory crafting class A type 1 parental units fueled by booze, and postcards dispatched from Dead Disnee.
Why do things we define beautiful undermine power?
FanDam’s beats are un-ringtone-able. The lyrics will never be chanted at clubs filled with drunken coeds on a Thursday night. Conceptually, FanDam is David Lynch doing shrooms with Kool Keith. Moments of carnage mutate into snapshots of metal jawed vulnerability. Lead single “Deep Space 9mm” bangs with layers of dusty digital samples almost 2 minutes before El spits a bar. “T.O.J.” is emo-rap aboard the Nebuchadnezzar. “Constellation Funk” is beautiful like the mushroom cloud in Watchmen.
Signed to Rawkus?!?
If the answer to that question isn’t “I’d rather be mouthfucked by Nazis unconscious!”, the proper response could be: “I’d rather be crafting the most blistering mission statement for myself and my new upstart indie label where upon my friends and I nearly dominant the 2000’s with shit like this!”
MP3:El-P–”Tuned Mass Dumper”
—Zilla Rocca
36. Little Brother – The Listening (2003)
Although Little Brother’s auspicious debut album The Listening might lack the populist high notes (hits!) to kick it into Great territory, it’d be difficult to find a hip hop fan who finds it disagreeable. But its contextual relevancy has come to outrank its, uh, audio “Listening” impact.
The Listening dropped in 2003. First generation Eminem still ruled the world; Dre had actually recently released an album; The Roots and Dave Chappelle and Mos Def and that whole east coast Generation: Next crowd seemed to be on the cusp of tightening up America’s cultural underbelly. Hip Hop was about to be the ideal American Alpha-male; brains, style, dollars, and a six-pack to boot. Soulja Boy was an unknown 13-year old at the time.
This was how great rap groups emerged out of the primordial ooze, the classic three man stage crew: You got your Producer/DJ, 9th Wonder, who was the next/new Dilla. Immediately recruited to play ball with the big boys on The Black Album. You had Phonte, a front man with the skills, voice, and charisma to keep haters at bay. And Rapper Big Pooh, the archetypal sidekick, pushing his skills to the limit, earning respect for his earnest effort if not for his imagination or creative substance.
You couldn’t sketch the blueprint any better. This was the tried and true model. The new wave of Golden Era. Contemporary Classic: The new De La, the new Tribe, but not encumbered by retro-nostalgia. They were among the first using new media with old grassroots traditions. They had the co-signs from everyone — artists, media, fans. This was what we thought everyone was waiting for.
And then they sold maybe 30K units. And that was it: the breakup, disenchantment, innocence lost was inevitable. Not just them, the whole culture. People were listening, but they just didn’t seem to care anymore.
MP3: Little Brother-”The Listening”
—The Assimilated Negro
35. Lil’ Wayne – Tha Carter III (2008)
No individual embodies the wilderness hip hop has wandered off to like Dwayne Michael Carter Jr. Fuck the contrarian bullshit; Wayne began the 21st century a boy, an also-ran regional rapper in the Nawlins shadows of Juvenile, B.G. and the Fresh bounce. Post his forced emancipation, Wayne developed a partnership with Philly weirdo Gillie Da Kid and interned with a Diplomat camp that spent the early half of the decade jabbing the traditional punchline/metaphor with a cattle prod. Wayne focused on the pop ephemera of his childhood. He sharpened and refined an ability to deconstruct words at an alchemical level as he farted around with delivery on his Sqad Up mixtapes. You can point to
his steam-building major label records and attention garnering MP3s like tracing a constellation, but the coronation waited until the summer of 2008, when Wayne emerged a Hunter S. Thompson styled man/beast.
Tha Carter III was innovative not just in style but form, eschewing all conception of narrative or semblance of cohesion, yet faithfully steeped in Wayne’s willful strangeness. (See: Song skits like “Dr. Carter”, the self-aware “Let the Beat Build,” absurd concepts like “Mrs. Officer” turned mainstream grabs, the playful wink in the recurring Macho Man references). For the album in a song look no further than “A Milli”, ubiquitous last summer with every rapper/weed carrier/R&B schmoe trying their hand at rapping over an obscure, screwed Phife snippet ping-ponging around choppy snares, none approaching the original’s deranged aggression.
This is Lil’ Wayne’s Ficciones. A bright, shining realization of style certified on the biggest stage with a platinum plaque at a moment in which numbers that gaudy had become a distant memory. It’s crazy and courageous, absurd in a way only this generation’s Hip Hop can be. Hate it or love it, it’s an album whose impact will be felt for decades to come.
MP3: Lil Wayne-”Let the Beat Build”
—Abe Beame
34. MF Doom (as Viktor Vaughn) – Vaudeville Villain (2003)
In 2003, to use the parlance of the times, MF Doom was a known unknown. After resurrecting his career in the late 90’s with the stunning Operation Doomsday, Doom continued to work under the radar, dropping baffling side projects featuring deranged alter egos. Of these, none could compete with Viktor Vaughn and the time traveling 90’s hard rock of Vaudeville Villain. Conceived as a younger alternative to Doom, Vaughn gave Daniel Dumile an outlet to combine the hardcore rhymes of his Black Bastard Days with an updated multi-syllabic storytelling style. Imagine if Biggie never signed with Puff, was homeless for a few years and then began to write in the 3rd person and you’re halfway there.
Though ostensibly a concept album, the plot is shaky and Vaudeville Villain works best as a collection of short stories. Whether he’s robbing the elderly, going back in time to save his Donkey Kong game-watch or shooting up a wack open mic night, Viktor does it with style, humor and an eye for detail matching the best period pieces. A love letter to old school New York, the album is filled to the brim with purposefully outdated slang, dark post-Wu boom-bap and a love of language that makes V “the emcee who’s as nasty as nose hair”.
Upstaged by the stoned delirium of Madvillainy, Vaudeville Villain pointed towards another direction for Doom. Putting the premium on storytelling and gun talk instead of blunted philosophy, the Viktor Vaughn character is a singular achievement in emceeing, an album delivering a totally new style at a time when few rappers took the time to flesh out even a single persona.
MP3: Viktor Vaughn-”G.M.C.”
—Sach O
33. Q-Tip – The Renaissance (2008)
Imagine that, whether by choice or not, you had the opportunity to create some piece of art. (For the purposes of this argument, we’ll assume you’re already a talented artist of some sort. A daring assumption, I know.) Given these 100+ months, would you not do everything you can to ensure that said piece of art is both successful and fulfilling? Of course you would. And wouldn’t that long time period give you the chance to perfect and distill everything you hoped to accomplish with your art? (Incidentally, this is why debut albums are generally better than the follow-up. You have 25 years to make your debut and two tops for the second.) Q-Tip is quite familiar with this proposition.
Following 1999’s vastly underrated Amplified, the Tribe frontman took those nine years to make his proper follow-up (Kamaal/The Abstract doesn’t count), and it’s all the better for the wait. Pop and boom-bap mix in proper doses. His rhymes are tight. His confidence lazily engulfs each and every track, and we’re left with Q’s best performance since Midnight Marauders. Sure, it’s maybe sacrilege to prefer this to any Tribe, but when it’s this good, that’s the truth.
MP3: Q-Tip-”Move/Renaissance Rap”
—Trey Kerby
32. Masta Ace – Disposable Arts (2001)
If you could have laid odds in Vegas that forgotten Juice Crew legend Masta Ace, would have enjoyed one of the most improbable career renaissances nearly a decade after his first record, then you would be undoubtedly be a very rich man. Masta Ace was a forgotten footnote of the Golden Age when he dropped his career re-defining underground classic, Disposable Arts, a record best described as The Blueprint of post-millennial indie rap.
Disposable Arts is a concept record dealing with Ace’s return to rap after being dormant for nearly five years and discovering the art form that he had left behind had become “disposable.” Explicitly dealing with his own re-education at a fictional hip hop-based community college, “IDA”, the record traverses many of the archetypal underground rap material that became staples of the movement during the decade. Confessional rap (“Dear Diary”), braggadocio sex rap (“I Like Dat”), battle rap (“Acknowledge”), Common-esque love songs (“Hold U”), crime rap (“Block Episode”) and strict lyrical exercise (“Alphabet Soup”) all sit next to each other on a thoroughly cohesive and entertaining record that turned Ace into indie rap royalty. It also features the only known, semi-tolerable appearance of MC Paul Barman in the history of rap music.
You can call this record a comeback. Hell, call it a resurrection.
MP3: Masta Ace ft. Young Zee-”Something’s Wrong”
—B. J. “The Good Doctor Zeus” Steiner
31. The Streets — Original Pirate Material (2002)
With the release of Original Pirate Material in 2002, The Streets managed to pull off the rare feat of putting out an authentically hip hop album despite its representation of a culture so very foreign to hip hop’s American origins. Delivered with an accent and slang that is one hundred per cent Cockney, in a tempo as much spoken word as it is rap, Original Pirate Material is easy to dismiss as something other than hip hop. Yet perhaps more so than any other album released this decade, Original Pirate Material demonstrates the true essence of emceeing, filled with tales that any hip hop head can relate to, from girl troubles to run-ins with the Bobbies. It’s a testament to how good Skinner is at the art of storytelling that an American listener can come away from this album with an understanding that we all go through the same trials and tribulations, no matter where in the world we might be living.
MP3: The Streets-”Weak Become Heroes”
—Fresh (33 Jones)
Posted in Top 50 Rap Albums of the '00s | 31 Comments »
August 3rd, 2009
Like capitalism, criticism, and cursive, canons are a necessary evil—the inherent by-product of the human urge to codify and contrast, and the atavistic urge to talk shit. Rest assured, 100,000 years ago in some cold cavern decorated in wine-skins and skinned saber tooth, you could find some monocle-rocking Neanderthal ranking the best Petroglyphs of the decade.
If anything, the Internet has atomized the notion of a coherent canon for the 2000s, and don’t mistake this list’s existence as an attempt to establish one. Let it be said unequivocally: the only canons that matter are personal. But that tenet doesn’t dismiss the impulse to honor those who continue to push the art form forward (save for Common, who at this point, should be shunned with will.i.am opprobrium). During a decade in which Nas’ cane-waggling dictum of hip-hop being dead actually gained credence in respectable circles, looking back on Bush-era rap, I’m tempted to paraphrase the last line of John Updike’s Rabbit at Rest: it really wasn’t that bad.
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Posted in Top 50 Rap Albums of the '00s | 70 Comments »
