Hip-hop

Back in the ’80s, uptight white people fretted over the decline of western civilization. For Tipper Gore and the PMRC, suburban youth were being morally debased by the down and dirty sounds of gangsta rappers, Satanic headbangers, and provocative pop divas. The most obscene of all was 2 Live Crew and the Miami bass sound they helped transform into something that was equal parts pop fad and national epidemic. Seemingly overnight, white teenage girls were shaking what their mamas gave them, while their brothers cruised strip mall parking lots in cars with the boom. School dances were cancelled, musicians arrested, and record stores shuttered. To celebrate this gloriously obscene time in America, here is a bass-thumping blast of genre cornerstones, radio hits, and lost nuggets.

In the dawning weeks of 2019, Spotify declared that “emo-rap” was the previous year’s fastest-rising genre. While the term had, by then, come to be associated with a fresh crop of post-genre, pro-feelings artists like XXXtentacion, Lil Peep, Lil Uzi Vert, and Juice WRLD, back in the early ’00s it had a different association. Inspired by the artsy, socially conscious likes of Project Blowed out west and Native Tongues back east, a small but creatively mighty wave of experimentally minded MCs and beatmakers had emerged in the ’90s from the underground tape-trading scene. By the decade’s end, they had congealed into a handful of seminal record label/collectives, each with its own regional flavor but all often derisively referred to by hip-hop purists as “emo-rap.”

The brashest camp was anticon., whose members had relocated from various points across the U.S. to Oakland, where wordsmiths like Sole, Doseone, and WHY? basked in the Bay Area’s scrappy boho-hippie vibe and kitchen-sink approach to art. The coolest by far was New York’s Definitive Jux, headed by El-P (who’d later become half of Run the Jewels) and heralded by Cannibal Ox, a duo so captivatingly cutting-edge that Elvis Costello was known to name-drop them in interviews. Meanwhile, Minnesota’s Rhymesayers Entertainment held it down for the blue-collar, lovelorn, bad-childhood types—a lane that Atmosphere carved out brilliantly before finding broader success on (in hindsight rather fittingly) the Warped Tour circuit.

There were posse projects and crossovers (cLOUDDEAD, Deep Puddle Dynamics), rivalries and outliers (Nova Scotia’s Buck 65, Los Angeles’ Busdriver). But whether it’s Sage Francis tracing his sister’s self-inflicted wounds on “Inherited Scars,” Alias converting depression into revelation on “Watching Water,” or Aesop Rock bundling a life’s worth of observation into one glorious tumble of words, this is, was, and forever will be the original emo-rap.

Open Mike Eagle has thrived during the tectonic shift of what it means to be an "independent rapper." Ten years ago, that term was solely aligned with a rapper on a label like Stones Throw, Rhymesayers, Def Jux, Anticon, etc. Today, "independent" is Chance the Rapper, who is managed by the same agency behind Tom Hanks and Derek Jeter. Open Mike Eagle is on Mello Music Group, an indie-rap haven inspired by Rawkus, but hes also friends with Paul F. Tompkins and Hannibal Burress. Hes "independent" because hes not on a major label, but hes about to have his own TV show, The New Negroes, with Baron Vaughn on Comedy Central. Where rappers in the past kept their friendships with comedians to a few skippable skits on CDs, Mike Eagle dropped the backpack and entered the world of comedy as unique specimen: the rapper who was both funny and lyrically sturdy, a performer who can play with Aesop Rock and Peter Sagal, a student of comedy who mastered Twitter while freestyling off the head better than almost anyone.The former school teacher from Chicago—who just seven years ago released his debut album, Unapologetic Art Rap, on Mush Records—brought the worlds of indie rap and comedy together after dozens of cross-country tours listening to comedy podcasts and stand-up routines to pass the time. Prior to the release of his newest and most highly anticipated album, Brick Body Kids Still Daydream (and the premiere of the aforementioned New Negroes), the Open Mike Eagle discography wrestled with sadness, race relations, lack of wealth, and growing up weird in the 90s. But after first self-classifying his style as “art rap,” and then now as an auteur of his own “dark comedy,” hes deftly created a universe where Eric Andre and Danny Brown make sense together.As Mike stated on his masterpiece track, "Dark Comedy Morning Show,” hes bad at sarcasm, so he works in absurdity. Because we live in absurd times, this playlist of choice cuts from Open Mike Eagles earlier work feel prophetic, with beautiful melodies, glitchy neck-snapping beats, and odes to data mining, hustling to pay rent in gentrified hotbeds, and our collective addiction to smartphones.

Click here to subscribe to the Spotify playlist.Rapper/producer/super-villain MF DOOM is a paradox. He is a legend, revered by a generation of indie music fans, but he’s also all-but-unknown to casual music fans. He is at once mercurial and unmistakable -- he wears a mask to disguise his face, changes monikers like Hillary changes pantsuits, and has appeared, disappeared and reappeared again (without warning) over the course of his 20 + year career. Yet, there is also no mistaking DOOM on the mic -- the slightly nasally flow, the jumble of alliteration and internal rhymes, the expansive surrealist imagery. It’s easy to over-intellectualize MF DOOM, but he is also genuinely funny -- such as on Rhinestone Cowboy, when he declared that he “got more soul than a sock with a hole” -- and playful (his take on lesser rappers: “Out of work jerks since they shut down Chippendales/ They chippin nails, DOOM, tippin scales”).It’s a really fun but, I suspect, largely thankless task to come up with a list of his best tracks. For this one, we’ve used three criteria: we wanted to represent as wide a span of his career as possible (it’s tempting to just cull from the span between Doomsday and Madvillian); and we want the list to have a certain flow and work as a playlist that you can put on and listen to all the way through; and we want to throw in a few left-field and obscure tracks for those who are already familiar with him. -- Sam Chennault

Drake OvO Sound may effectively be a vanity imprint for its biggest star, but there’s something to admire in their stylistic consistency and aesthetic continuity. It speaks to Drake’s overall impact on culture, and also the partnership that Drake has formed with his core set of producers (40 and Boi-1da). There’s a clear through-line from the sound those developed on solo Drake releases and the sonic nooks that PARTYNEXTDOOR or dvsn are currently exploring. This playlist, curated by Drake, features some of the labels best tracks. Though the music is at times vibrant and it’s well worth a listen, this at times feels like a boilerplate marketing/PR playlist, and the inclusion of Drake on at least 2/3rds of the tracks feels slightly distasteful.

Straight from the decrepit basements of Memphis comes one of the most distinctive, experimental, and otherworldly communities in all of hip-hop, where hissy cassettes, mutilated R&B samples, punishing 808s, and MCs firing off at breakneck speeds are only the beginning. Obsessed with satanic possession, graphic depictions of murder, and turning rap music into a kind of sonic and atmospheric purging, the movement first gained prominence in the ‘90s with Three 6 Mafia, and grew to comprise a vast network of interconnected crews and producers. These beats may be dusty, but beyond their low fidelity lies a surprisingly prophetic vision of rap music to come: stuttering hi-hats, pounding bass, and rhythms that are so aggressive and upbeat that one can’t help but hear the delirious sounds of modern trap laced within the sludge. This is by no means a “Memphis Rap Greatest Hits” — the genre is endless, and many of its most crucial gems are buried within the hallowed corridors of YouTube. But if you’ve never known “horrorcore” to apply to anything outside of ICP, hit that play button and let Satan be your guide.

As Q-Tip once stated, theres a difference between hard and dark. M.O.P. is hard: aggression, clenched fists, screams, bludgeonings. Dark is sexy, scary, likeable, menacing, tempting. Prodigy of Mobb Deep was one of the best rappers on the planet because he was dark. He didnt have Pacs tortured thug activist energy, Bigs charisma or hitmaking ease, Nass wisdom combined with the ear of a jazz musician. It didnt matter. While other rappers laughed and joked, or screamed in your ear, Prodigy calmly explained how he would end your life while referencing the Book of Revelations and the Illuminati.He was the best writer of threats in rap history, a vivid crime fetishist, and a conspiracy theory magnet. The most famous lines from Prodigy were hostile ("Theres a war going on outside no man is safe from"), visual ("Stab your brain with your nose bone"), vulnerable ("I put my lifetime in between the papers lines"), and grim ("My attitude is all fucked up and real shitty"). If you lived on the east coast from 1995-1999, you remember each summer as one that Prodigy dominated — via radio, clubs, mixtapes, and guest appearances, with Havoc in Mobb Deep or solo. His greatness, like his delivery, was understated. But he was on everyones radar: features with LL Cool J, Big Pun, 50 Cent, Mariah Carey, even Shaq; classhes, both on wax and in person, with 2pac, Jay-Z, Saigon, Keith Murray, Nas, and Tru Life. His resilience was staggering — Mobb Deep peaked in 99 but Prodigy’s solo career never cooled off. He released the excellent Albert Einstein with Alchemist in 2013, and dropped The Hegelian Dialectic in early 2017.He grew up the child of musicians but took rap deadly serious. He was terrifying as a 19 year old and a master of his craft by 22. He survived prison, shootouts, dozens of beefs, and multiple record deals. He dedicated his life to rap since getting signed at 17 and passed away suddenly days after performing with Havoc, Raekwon, and Ghostface in Las Vegas. Prodigy may be gone, but as the novelist Margaret Stohl said, "Darkness does not leave us as easily as we hope.”

This post is part of our Psych 101 program, an in-depth, 14-part series that looks at the impact of psychedelia on modern music. Want to sign up to receive the other installments in your inbox? Go here. Already signed up and enjoying it? Help us get the word out by sharing it on Facebook, Twitter or just sending your friends this link. Theyll thank you. We thank you.When broaching the idea of psychedelic hip-hop, the first thing you need to do is abandon the belief that there is a rap music scene similar to the rock movement of the late 1960s. A few artists have successfully paired the kind of melodically wistful, lyrically naïve, acid-fried spiritual yearnings that typify garden-variety psych-rock with modern-day beats and rhymes—most significantly, Madlib’s Quasimoto alias, Edan with his underrated 2005 masterwork Beauty and the Beat, and the Alchemist and Oh No’s Gangrene project (not to mention Al’s 2012 release, Russian Roulette).But Gangrene is a good example of why the parallel often falls apart. The duo is mostly concerned with rhyming about the funky effects of psychoactive drugs, not abandoning themselves to a higher state of consciousness. Generally, rap artists are too jaded and pragmatic to truly indulge in Jimi Hendrix-like tie-dyed frippery. As soulfully as A$AP Rocky and Kid Cudi croon about being stoned, it’s unlikely they’ll abandon their rare sneaker collections and Instagram models for an extended stay at a remote Buddhist retreat. (Correction: Kid Cudi might.)Perhaps the closest analog is De La Soul’s Da.I.S.Y. Age era, which sounds as musically fanciful as The Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. In the early 1990s, a number of rappers influenced by the liberating effects of heavy marijuana use—like Leaders of the New School and Organized Konfusion—recorded tracks about cracking open their third eye and seeing the world for what it really is. Lyrical jabberwockies such as Divine Styler’s “Grey Matter” and Latyrx’s “Latyrx” explored modern-day society as a mist ready to be dispersed—and perhaps overcome—with the right amount of esoteric knowledge and florid vocabulary. Justin Warfield’s “B Boys on Acid,” and his shout-out to Timothy Leary, seems dully literal by comparison.Much of what passes for psychedelic hip-hop can also be classified as weed rap (see Redman and Cypress Hill), dystopian science fiction (a la Deltron 3030), and/or Afrofuturism. Ishmael Butler’s Shabazz Palaces collective epitomizes the latter; in turn, their catalog has grown increasingly abstract and bizarre, eschewing distinct narratives for gauzy, metaphysical sounds. They’re the evolution of psychedelia, even if their musings may seem incomprehensible to a Deadhead.

Click here to add to Spotify playlist!The Bomb Squad are one of hip-hop’s greatest production teams, and on Public Enemy’s 1987 debut, Yo! Bum Rush the Show, they established sampling as an art form. As the record turns 30 this month, The Bomb Squad’s intricate approach to beat construction remains as relevant as ever, demonstrating how important reference and quotation were to the development of Public Enemy’s politics and to hip-hop in general.Starting out as an opening act for fellow New York hip-hop outfit Beastie Boys, the early incarnation of Public Enemy heard on Yo! Bum Rush The Show more closely resembles a party-starting posse in the mold of Run-DMC than the fight-the-power force they would become. Though the specters of white supremacy and drug culture loom large in songs like “Rightstarter (Message To A Black Man)” and “Megablast,” lyrically speaking, Chuck D was not yet so overtly topical, focusing instead on interpersonal conflict. However, the intertextuality in The Bomb Squad’s sampling style revealed a more subtle approach to expressing Public Enemy’s worldview.Rather than simply sampling a song’s hook, each track was a dense tapestry of source material, charting the group’s constellation of influences and situating hip-hop within a larger spectrum of styles, from funk to thrash metal—“Miuzi Weighs A Ton” even juxtaposes Tangerine Dream with a disco beat. This cultural melding extends to Chuck D’s rhymes, which quote everyone from Syl Johnson to Aretha Franklin to Kurtis Blow.The Bomb Squad further bolstered their productions with live instrumentation. Though Chuck D would eventually regret writing the song, “Sophisticated Bitch” features a noteworthy highlight: a guitar solo courtesy of then-unknown Vernon Reid, whose band Living Colour had yet to break out into the alt-rock world.The righteous indignation for which Public Enemy is now known may mostly be absent there, but it wasn’t far behind. The militant “Rebel Without A Pause” was released as a B-side to “You’re Gonna Get Yours” later in 1987, and it would alter the group’s course forever. But even if Yo! Bum Rush the Show reminds us that Public Enemy didn’t arrive fully formed, its 30th anniversary presents an opportunity to appreciate the group for their sonic innovations, and in this playlist you’ll hear how The Bomb Squad laid the roots of a revolution with the sounds of the past.

Click here to subscribe to the Spotify playlist.It’s difficult to name another hip-hop musician who has stayed relevant as long as Q-Tip. He launched his career in 1988 with a verse on the Jungle Brothers’ “Black is Black.” But it’s his underrated talents as a producer, not as a rapper, that holds the key to his continued relevance. Alongside DJ Ali Shaheed Muhammad, he produced most of the beats for the group’s first three albums, including classics like “Bonita Applebum” and “Electric Relaxation.” He devised several tracks for Mobb Deep’s The Infamous, worked with Whitney Houston and Mariah Carey, and briefly served as part of Kanye West’s GOOD Music team, resulting in numerous contributions to Kanye and Jay Z’s Watch the Throne. This year, he has continued to land production credits on major albums like Solange’s A Seat at the Table. However, the recent surprise release of A Tribe Called Quest’s We Got It From Here…Thank You for Your Service is a reminder that Q-Tip is best known as one of the greatest ensembles in the genre’s history.