36. Slick Rick - The Great Adventures of Slick Rick

Walking a thin line between classy and crass, ribald English dandy Ricky Walters is at once an exceptionally eloquent lyricist and an egotistical misogynist. Overlooking his more insensitive material will be a strong task for most, but those with a stomach for "blue" lyrics will be compensated for sticking around. Slick Rick's brilliant vocal harmonies and talent for painting detailed-oriented portraits of sex and crime are funny enough to demand multiple listens and as transgressive as a limerick. His specificity, both in his words and the way he vocalizes them, transformed the role of MC from party starter to poet.

Emphasizing the last word of each bar with a sarcastic snarl, MC Ricky D's singy-songy lilting and "Queen's English" pack a playfully facetious tone and precise comedic timing. Playing nearly every role in his tales of verbal and sexual dominance, Rick adds in high-pitched squeals for female counterparts, a squire's exaltations for "The Ruler's Back" and "boings" to accompany every implied boner and pelvic thrust. What may sound like a superficial gimmick actually imbues each chronicle with a sprightly tone, not far removed from a Benny Hill sketch, watering down the inherent offensiveness. He's also capable of leaving the role of comedian, dominating as a battle rapper or playing lovelorn child on "Teenage Love."

Despite the aforementioned token R&B track, The Great Adventures of Slick Rick embodies the 80's Def Jam sound profile. Hissy, low-tech 808 thump and clash are accompanied by kitschy game-show theme piano, a bevy of jokey sound effects and dexterous scratching (thanks Jam Master Jay). It's not hard to notice a certain propulsive chaos to the sound collage and atmospherics of early compositions from the soon to be dominant Bomb Squad, but Rick's personal handiwork splendidly accompanies his vocals, reacting to his punch lines and the creeping paranoia of his cautionary tales.

The finest of these parables is "Children's Story," which starts as a bedtime fable, but quickly devolves into a nightmare about the death of young crook who's more scared than dangerous. The fact that its empathy is untarnished by the wanton tone of the album is a testament to Rick's talents, making his derogatory remarks seem more like the work of a provocateur than an sexist. Whether you buy that argument or not depends on your ability to respect the craft over the content.

37. Jurassic 5 - Quality Control

Falling somewhere between nostalgic and progressive, Jurassic 5 blends the house party energy of hip-hop's first wave with a heightened social consciousness and disinterest for mainstream success. They stress fundamentals like a high-school basketball coach, interested only in the core elements of a genre currently too enamored with narcissistic greed to rock a party or have a positive influence on their audience. Quality Control cuts away the gristle, leaving behind a lean and agile work built for repeat listens and perpetual head nodding.

Treating rap like a schoolyard singing game, the group's quartet of vocalists bounce off each other's bars with masterful precision, spilling forth an endless current of words and numbers. Their whimsical verbal interplay is a delightful tightrope walk, carefully constructed more for rhythm than political astuteness. That's not to say that they don't have valid points concerning music industry corruption and hip-hop's place as role model, but they wisely don't let that overshadow the album's boisterous tone. Not once are they jaded or combative, always sounding youthful and excitable, which perfectly fits the hyperactive and poppy soundscape.

Sharing production duties, Cut Chemist and DJ Nu-Mark's sound has a few obvious reference points (Prince Paul, in particular), but they make an effort to vary the proceedings with off-kilter bebop and swing band samples. Their focal point for each track seems to be an infectiously looped hook, whether it be by wind instrument, guitar riff or horn section. Couple that with a kinetic drum beat and some fancy turntable work and you've got a cartoonish and playful oeuvre, perfectly capturing a placid West Coast sensibility. A critical ear might notice that each track shares nearly the same arrangement, but that may have been an effort to maintain consistency and not conceptual laziness.

"Monkey Bars" is a testament to the potency of J5's formula: big, stomping drums, damn funky guitar, four MCs melding into one. As they catalog their genre forefathers, words roll one over another with amazing precision and fluidity. Numbers and elements become things of obsession, juxtaposed over a sound collage filled to the brim with mischievous kitchen sink samples and drum-circle bongo. An exuberant and momentous track like this is usually forced into the lead-off spot, but a product this consistent has classics left over for the B-side.

Quality Control is a unblemished specimen of economical songwriting. It's charming, brisk, relatively skit-free. All participants play well as a team, creating a group dynamic that hearkens back to days past, without falling into the creative black hole that is "retro" rap. Social issues are hinted at, but never over analyzed for fear of contaminating the steady wave of good vibrations. It's a solid LP in the truest sense, dependable over 15 tracks without an uncomfortable shift in tone or uncharacteristic clunker. Why would they want to risk a deep three when a layup is a guarantee?

38. OutKast - ATLiens

It's hard to imagine Antwan Patton and Andre Benjamin as anything but household names. In contrast to their current fame, 1996 saw them low on cash, fearing a sophomore slump and struggling to fully realize a unique identity. They certainly had the opportunity to dive headfirst into the mainstream, but they wanted to develop their ambitious Southern blend of rap beyond the canon of commercially-accepted urban music. Their creation would become the first major work from one of hip-hop's most distinct and empathetic collective voices.

Bringing along the quick-witted verbal quips and playful banter present on Southernplayalistic... (see "cooler than a polar bear's toenails"), Big Boi and Andre 3000 have tempered their fanciful dialogue with a sober wisdom, due in large part to hip-hop's coastal feuding and the stale shallowness of the commercial rap game. The group sounds defensive on occasion, protecting their hometown and message from being slandered or misconstrued. They've even developed a sound influenced by their environment, which perfectly matches their ever-expanding social awareness.

This warm, contemplative sonic profile, built around live instrumentation and soulful vocals, makes for a rich listening experience in stereo. Ace production team Organized Noize (with contributions from OutKast) utilize clean and crisp drum hits, delicate piano and the occasional bluesy guitar lick to craft a joyful noise worthy of a church choir. That is, if your church band jammed on trippy synthesizer, sleigh bell and low, slinky bass.

The overall tone is measured, having as much of a drawl as the vocals and shrewdly leaving some breathing room between chorus and verse. These ambient moments make narrative driven tracks like "Elevators (Me & You)" and "13th Floor/Growing Old" flow more organically. Dre and Big Boi are superb storytellers and a hurried tempo would overshadow complex and emotional topics like the progression of time, poor health, lack of self-confidence, violence and community division (black, hip-hop or otherwise).

Confronting the demons of gangster rap and life below the poverty line, ATLiens comments on pre-Y2K tension and violence with a rare verisimilitude. OutKast heightened their message to mirror the times and what came of it is a record of striking clarity and social conscience.

39. Clipse - Hell Hath No Fury

Hell Hath No Fury is materialism incarnate.

Pusha T and Malice fetishize porcelain showerheads and European two-seaters like de Sade ruminated over sex, fanatically cataloging their financial conquests and proudly laughing at those they've corrupted in order to attain wealth. Their blank amorality and epicurean compulsions would bring to mind the teachings of Anton LaVey, if only they didn't half-heartedly reference the Christian deity on occasion.

Insidious characters like these can be compelling, if handled properly. Thankfully, Clipse control their listeners like they manipulate their strung-out customers, through quick-witted pitch, premium product and devil-may-care bravado. The conversational tone of their rhymes is enthralling, especially at the speed they're delivered, which only allows brief pauses for emphasis of the last syllable or mimicked crack head onomatopoeia. One can't help but be hypnotized as Pusha rapidly links the same suffix together seven bars in a row on "Trill," showing how a gifted scribe can concoct poetry from elements that most MCs would rehash as cliché.

The Neptunes are equally interested in putting a spin on familiar elements, turning their usually jumpy pop tracks into steely, subterranean tones that mirror the bleak lyrical content. Think pulsating steel drum, synthesized cowbell and woodblock, queasy science-fiction sound waves and hollow preset percussion. Every song slinks along like a snake, updating Giorgio Moroder's electro-coke jams for modern audiences, but injecting them with a poisoned, dystopic mindset. The peak of this sonic conspiracy is never more evident than on "Ride Around Shining," which depicts the exploitation of innocent college girls over a nicked Wendy Carlos sample that would sound positively beautiful, if it wasn't so damn frightening.

It's these disturbing elements that make for such a cohesive, fascinating listen. The frankness of this brutally capitalistic vision is rarely watered down with second-guessing or remorse. Clipse are carnal beings, not apologists.