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."

Hip Hop Top 50 Vol. 1. Playlist

A sampling of tracks from the first 18 Hip Hop Top 50 entries. All apologies to Company Flow, since "Funcrusher Plus" is not currently available on the supposedly encyclopedic Spotify. A shoutout on the first Black Star track will have to do for the time being.

C

33. Boogie Down Productions - Criminal Minded

To call Criminal Minded trendsetting would be a grave understatement. Not only did it bring street crime into the conversation, it merged the bass-heavy tones of Jamaican dub with New York City hip-hop, made disrespecting your contemporaries a sport and provided a frame of reference for the socially conscious rap to come.

Though the debate over hip-hop's birthplace is far from an underlying theme, Bronx's own Boogie Down Productions endlessly lobby for the title of rap's first and finest. Focusing his energy on besmirching the clumsy writing and stale production of the en vogue Queens figureheads, sole vocalist KRS-One brilliantly illuminates the power of creative thinking and socio-political brainstorming. Often affecting a playful growl or menacing patois, KRS stresses the importance of acquiring knowledge at his most serious and goofs on crackheads and DJ Scott La Rock's promiscuity at his most whimsical. His style focuses on a potent conveyance of rhyming words. That's not to say that his songwriting is basic, he's just perfected simplicity, which is much harder than hiding flaws in forced complexity.

The production follows suit, concentrating on high-pitched funk breaks, fragmented bits of James Brown's vocal wail and Scott La Rock's accelerated turntable work. Though uncomplicated by modern standards, it's suitable for the commanding thrust of KRS' voice, adding an authoritative drum blast on diss tracks and a bassy synthesizer to their reggae-leaning crime anecdotes. It's a sound that packs confidence far beyond their years, reflected in the effortless genre hopping and tonal shifts. Additional studio work provided by Ced Gee (of Ultramagnetic MCs) may be responsible for some of the manic energy, but the duo's ability to play off each other is the record's strongest virtue.

This partnership is well advertised on the title track, which opens with a jovial "Hey Jude" interpolation, followed in striking contrast by one of the most ferocious displays of linguistic power ever put on record. "Criminal Minded, you've been blinded, lookin' for a style like mine, you can't find it" is the crushing opening statement; so simple in its delivery, but so profoundly expressed. KRS' rhythmic verbal composition is backed by a powerful synth thud, high-stepping drum beat, disembodied moans and spastically disassembled horn samples.

What could have been a chaotic mash of opposing sonic elements and themes is reigned in by the scholarly intonation of KRS-One, a dauntless MC capable of verbal malevolence to his subordinates without sacrificing positivity or the desire to elucidate the power of poetry. His pairing with Scott La Rock is at once effortless and boundlessly exciting, marred only by the fact that Scott's untimely death would make it their only collaboration.
 

34. Raekwon - Only Built 4 Cuban Linx...

Picking up where Enter the Wu-Tang left off, Only Built for Cuban Linx... elaborates on the esoteric universe of the Staten Island collective, particularly their penchant for collaborative narrative. Raekwon and co-host Ghostface Killah are so comprehensive in their phrasing and word choices that they've expand on the group's mythology, injecting their own inventive street slang, colloquialisms and a cineaste's passion for dialogue and characterization. The characters prowling through their pulp narrative may take Tony Montana as spiritual advisor, but they aren't afraid to show pathos or express regret, which brings a uniquely human touch to an often apathetic genre.

The highly-evolved coke rap interplay between Ghost and Rae is itemized to the point of compulsion. The food on the plate, gun in the holster and scene of the crime are all cataloged like an Elmore Leonard novel, rife with atmosphere and pedal-to-the-medal fast. Ghostface is excitable, capable of expressing dominance and humanity at brisk pace and equal measure. It's chilling when he paints a gunshot victim's terror as "open flesh, burgundy blood colored my Guess." In contrast, Raekwon struts instead of runs, adding flourishes in place of clichés ("Mega ice on, chips ahoy") and an urgency to the close of each bar. The bleakness in Rae's tone perfectly mirrors the ominous nature of the production.

Curating the entire album, RZA has coated each track in a cavernous, low-tech wall of sound, propelled by heavy bass stomp and sunk deep beneath queasy, seasick tonal shifts. The film influence goes far beyond The Killer and Scarface samples, lending a foreboding eeriness that will strike a cord with Ennio Morricone buffs, particularly those attracted to warped strings, nuanced piano roll and screeching soul vocal. Blaxploitation horn and sax even find their way into "Criminology," a track that echoes like it was recorded in a tunnel and slowly hypnotizes with looped tubular bell. Avoiding a clean, manipulated studio sound has given the track a noticeable hiss, which contributes a rich warmth and uncommon depth. It stands in opposition to the mainstream sound of the time period, truthfully aligning itself to the content of the lyrics.

It's rare to find a solo effort that's both interested in furthering the concept of the group, while flaunting the talents of the individual. Cuban Linx continues the Wu-Tang story, but from the perspective of a street-wise storyteller, consumed with filing through the elements of the drug underworld. It's this attention to detail that separated Raekwon from the rest of the pack in 1995.

35. Kanye West - The College Dropout

Kanye West's strong suit isn't his ego or his cultural cache, but his insecurity. The College Dropout compellingly finds him struggling for an identity in post-millennium hip-hop. He's both "Benz and backpack," clinging on to pleasures of the flesh, while striving to bring God back to popular music and accurately portray city life. His product is perpetually subjective, as is anything released by a man willing to rap through a wired jaw. What makes him so fascinating is his eagerness to wear his heart on his sleeve, while still clamoring for the amenities furnished by a successful music career.

Though his failed collegiate aspirations may seem capricious, his mission to portray commonalities is steadfast. He's certainly adept at conveying ideas, spiked with only the slightest hint of ego (he's saving most of that for future LPs). These concepts are often dispatched through joke or pun and even his works of the least gravity possess effortless rhyme scheme (silhouette/cigarette, mocha latte/Pilates). I dare the listener not to laugh when West spouts, "Got a light skinned friend, look like Michael Jackson. Got a dark skinned friend, look like Michael Jackson" on "Slow Jamz."

His propensity for goofing off is only the half. He's capable of owning up to his contradictions, something that alludes MCs with experience beyond his years. An "everyman" quality makes it easy to look past his fledgling flow, which seems to be Talib Kweli's with half the adroitness, allowing one to revel in his command of language and songwriting capabilities. His finest works even take on the best aspects of spoken word and carry a satiric bent, particularly on "The New Workout Plan," which plays like an infomercial for the unfettered male libido.

Not only a showcase for his verbal brilliance, The College Dropout is a canvas for West's production, which leans towards a highly orchestrated, neo-soul collage. This energetic amalgam relies on the best snippets of 70's staples and amplifies/repeats them ad nauseam. Despite following a formula, it's compellingly diverse, adding acoustic guitar, paramount female vocals and slow bass groove to the already infectious rhythm. The sound can veer from emotional climax to "beers and blunts" party track (see "Get Em High"), showing off West's grasp of a multitude of genres. Yet, his most cogent moments stem from a strong gospel background, depicted in the group dynamic of the album's choruses.

"We Don't Care" bases its strength on community participation, inspired by Kanye himself and followed by a group of lively school children and female crooners. Heavy doses of funk organ lay a base for West's argument, which draws parallels between poverty, education and the job market. His role as spokesperson is never better than at this moment, where he confirms the inevitability of crime in a society of dire circumstances.

His arguments for equality make it impossible not to root for him. He's constructed a debut that is both intimate and innovative, coasting off of personal experience and a wealth of impassioned melodies. Though his public image would certainly change after this release, 2004 saw him as everything to everyone: thoughtful narrator, braggadocious baller, artful producer and astute civil critic.