30. A Tribe Called Quest - Midnight Marauders

Everything about Midnight Marauders, from lyrics to beats to album art, is about community. Building steam from the massive praise showered upon The Low End Theory, A Tribe Called Quest expanded on concepts that record only glazed over, taking a closer look at the urban social climate and adding complex layers of samples to their previously stripped-down sound. Experimenting with a sure thing was risky business, but, like the jazz players that preceded them, Tribe refused to cement themselves to one approach. Marauders is the product of this growing confidence, reflecting artistic maturity and positioning them as spokespersons for the party of rappers that adorn the liner notes.

Lyrical content has taken a "day in the life" approach the third time around, putting the superficial and the severe into perspective. Q-Tip and Phife Dawg postulate about everything from violence to sex to Knicks basketball, taking a progressive, thoughtful approach to hot button issues (racial epithets, HIV), while still maintaining a light tone and avoiding the sophistry of rhetoric. Q-Tip plays both of these parts well, alternating between college professor and smart aleck, as dictated by tone. Vocally, he swoons like a poet or doo wop singer, flowing like water over a jazzy note, stopping only to pose a question or pass the mic to his wily counterpart.

No longer playing second fiddle, Phife has fully developed into a witty comedic author, throwing out playful boasts and hysterical similes with high frequency. Riffing on Barney and comparing inferior MCs to "cheese grits" is only scratching the surface. Repeat listens reveal a perceptive storyteller capable of exposing how day-to-day disappointments can lead to an attitude of blind complacency.

The vocal duo and DJ Ali Shaheed Muhammad handled the bulk of production, creating a dense layer cake of unearthed jazz elements, ranging from the standard to the obscure. Big brass bands and groovy organ lie in a bed of atmospheric and warm static, jaunty bass and driving drum beats. Inorganic sound effects and dark, cinematic keys lend a nocturnal feel to the piece, draining the manic energy of previous releases and leaving behind the molasses-sticky, sonic personification of hot asphalt.

"Electric Relaxation" drips with softly-strummed guitar and spacey electro bleeps, acquiring body and texture via a liberal dose of stand-up bass and the clip of a snare drum. Words unfurl as calm poetic exercises, stressing the female physique and the healthy libidos of our narrators. They collectively preach discreet sexuality, halting these chivalrous advances only for the occasional off-color joke or passage of patois riffage. The most pleasing aspect of their gambit is the effortless integration of two distinct voices, illustrating similar ideas through different inflections. In essence, this shared viewpoint and collaborative spirit reflects the very idea of community.

31. The Notorious B.I.G. - Ready to Die

Playing patron saint to drug dealers and pickpockets, the young and reckless Notorious B.I.G. brims with witty dialogue about a variety of transgressions, pushing boundaries for laughs and shock. He's successful in that sense, but does best when he's baring his soul, expressing anguish over his own poverty and mortality. This macabre fascination with death hangs over most of the album, lending a welcome and honest bleakness to the occasionally pedestrian production.

Vocally, Biggie Smalls is both high-pitched and baritone, coming off as laid-back when necessary or packing an aggressive punch when bestowing disciplinary action on enemies. It's not hard to hear KRS-One's influence on his gruff delivery, yet, his content leans more towards the personal, focusing both on his rage and depression. His violent side provides some of his most quotable dialogue and it's fun to hear him execute the opposition with a playful aside like "touch my cheddar, feel my Beretta." The more stridently anti-social elements of his song writing are most likely efforts to provoke disgust, whether they be physical threats towards pregnant women or boorish sexual puns. It's his perpetual references to suicide that are harder to shake off, reflecting a deeply troubled individual incapable of distancing himself from his past faults.

Alternately, his compassion for his mother is noted often and with particular gravity when relating to her struggle with breast cancer. He often comes off as sympathetic to the victims of violence, referring to a murdered lover gracefully, stating, "they killed my best friend." Despite the occasional grotesque turn of phrase, Christopher Wallace is a canny rapper and talented writer, capable of spinning an amusingly gross metaphor or a touching truism. It'd be hard not to be shocked and touched by his work, often during the same song and in that order.

The accompanying beats are slick and well-made, but only match Big's vocals in quality half of the time. There are no less than 8 producers on the album, with multiples occasionally sharing credit on an individual track. Too many cooks in the kitchen can make for a scattershot meal and certain efforts feel phoned-in and generic. The best tracks mirror the content of the vocals and Lord Finesse's work on "Suicidal Thoughts" rewards Biggie's bravery with suitably dark tones and an ominous drum stomp. Also of note is DJ Premier's fast-paced, jazz-inflected "Unbelievable," which matches the steady stream of sharp descriptors and snarky provocations perfectly. Otherwise, the production, overseen by Sean "Puffy" Combs, sinks or swims based on prominent drum beat, jazzy wind instruments and faint keys. Most do a serviceable job, especially when taking queues from reggae or utilizing deeper textures (organ, hissy synth, strings).

"Juicy" finds the perfect balance between vocal and musical brilliance, taking soft, echoed keys, staccato synth beats and strolling funky bass from Mtume's "Juicy Fruit" and throwing in syrupy, trippy flourishes. This canvas gives Biggie room to sketch his road from gift less Christmases and empty stomachs to diamond jewelry and paid bills. His story also ingeniously parallels hip-hop's rise from the underground to the mainstream, honoring what came before and injecting his own perspective. It's no surprise that the first verse may be the most well-known in rap history, echoing childhood dreams that relate easily to the collective human experience and reflecting the stunning abilities of the storyteller.

Ready to Die doesn't succeed through a unified production aesthetic, but through the power of the narrator. Wallace's melancholy laces his passion for sex and crime with a vulnerable desperation. He may seem bold and brash on the surface of his radio singles, but the deep cuts bleed with tension, paranoia and regret. Knowing that he would be dead within two years only adds to the all-encompassing somberness.

32. Gang Starr - Moment of Truth

Adapting to the sonic terrain of late 90's hip-hop, Moment of Truth saw Gang Starr abandoning their jazzy influences in favor of a rugged and atmospheric sound. When Guru states "we have certain formulas, but we update 'em with the times," it never comes off as a plea for commercial acceptance. A paranoid and aggressive work would be the only way to honestly portray the MC's current head space; a state of high stress and anxiety resulting from gun possession charges.

Using his plight as a springboard for discussion about the urban social climate, Guru constructs a compelling street narrative, drawing parallels between the violence on the streets and corruption/jealously in the music industry. Though saddled with a gruff monotone, he hopscotches through rhymes nimbly, capably weaving together a complex metaphor or acerbically placing irony into his crime sagas. His direct diction breeds an unforced eloquence, one capable of stretching an individual rhyming syllable far beyond its intended shelf life (see "Triple beam dreams and drug schemes of mad cream/could be a sad scene when you go to that extreme").

DJ Premier's style of production matches the vocals in function and vigor. Beats are tinny, lo-fi drum blasts, coupled with sovereign horn and piano jabs, rearranged by Premier's own blend of twitchy scratching and sequencing. Choral loops get permanently lodged in the brain, as a dizzying array of vocal samples and film clips elaborate on the track's themes and express dominance. Strings and piano are brought in sparingly, mostly for ominous intonation, but the lion's share of the soundtrack focuses on quick cuts of memorable jazz and soul, compressed for highest potency.

The crux of this collaboration is the title track, showing Guru in a moment of reflection, wrestling with his own vulnerability and the spiteful behavior of his supposed confidants. Although he initially chose rage as a means of release, he's abandoned violence and self-medication, instead realizing that everyone has their own cross to bear ("actions have reactions, don't be quick to judge"). This deeply insightful bit of catharsis is accompanied by lush strings, ringing triangle and constant synth clap.

Moment of Truth was seen as a comeback album, but rarely do artistic endeavors intended to reintroduce an artist have such a multifarious body of ideas. It lyrically exceeded the group's already high standards and reinterprets their sound for their current lifestyle. It might feature a few too many guest appearances and the occasionally long skit, "but it's still Guru and Premier... and there's always a message involved."