Trapped In The 90’s: Hip Hop’s Obsession With The Past

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Earlier this year, Spin Magazine released a landmark issue celebrating their 30 year anniversary. It was a list that counted down the 300 best albums from 1985-2014 — all 30 years of the magazine’s existence. Lists of this magnitude aren’t fun for the strict ranking; they’re fun for the dialogue they start, a chance to process history while it’s happening or revaluate more established classics. These big catchall lists are more amusing than provocative. The big guns one would expect all hang around the top ten. Nirvana, The Smiths, Radiohead, and Daft Punk all get to share the glory. But underneath this ranking is lurks something more interesting. There are 55 hip hop albums on this list, and given that the first iconic rap LP’s occurred near the ’84-’85 period, those 55 albums rank as a list of the greatest hip hop albums of all time. It’s interesting to see on its own. Here’s the top 10 (with their ranking in the original list as well).

  1. Enter The Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) – Wu-Tang Clan (1993) [2]
  2. My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy – Kanye West (2010) [8]
  3. The Blueprint – Jay-Z (2001) [13]
  4. Fear Of A Black Planet – Public Enemy (1990) [15]
  5. Paul’s Boutique – Beastie Boys (1989) [17]
  6. Aquemini – Outkast (1998) [21]
  7. Illmatic – Nas (1994) 23]
  8. Ready To Die – The Notorious B.I.G. (1994) [27]
  9. The Low End Theory – A Tribe Called Quest (1991) [32]
  10. It Takes A Nation Of Millions To Hold Us Back – Public Enemy (1988) [36]

As a list on it’s own, those ten albums are about as good as you can get in the genre, but looking through the whole list reveals some interesting things about how we process Hip Hop history.

  • Enter The Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) is absolutely the greatest album of all time. As I’ve written before, there’s no other album that can create an entire universe for a listener to fall into. Rap was never the same after it.
  • Spin don’t got no love for the west coast? Well let it be known then!  Only six albums from L.A. crack the top 50 and they’re all legends: Dr. Dre, Snoop Dogg, N.W.A., 2Pac. Kendrick’s Good Kid, m.A.A.d. City is apparently the greatest L.A. album ever, ranking in at 12th. There’s nothing from the Bay Area.
  • The golden age is over. Usually these lists are the type that idolize the first golden age of rap (1988) or that glorious ’93-’96 period, but albums from all over the hip hop timeline populate the list. No one doubts how good Kanye’s MBDTF is, but I never thought I’d see the day where it was the second greatest album ever.

No list is perfect, and this one is certainly flawed. It’s fun to see the whole of hip hop history be grappled with because there’s a big divide between classic and current rap music. Every new generation of every genre has to hear their elders complain about how much better music was back in the good old days, but given the speed of change in rap music, the generation gap is particularly acute.

Hip hop is a dynamic, evolving genre. It’s the sound of ebb and flow, volcanic tensions constantly dissolving into one another. One of my favorite dichotomies is the fight between past and present. Rap is inherently youthful, resting on the shoulders of young teenagers who vividly reimagine their world every couple of years. But it’s also music as archeology; the genre was literally born by repurposing the records that came before it. An artist can say more with with how they place a sample or a lyrical reference than with an actual bar of their own.

That tension manifests itself outside of the actual music. When Time Magazine ran an article and interview with Vince Staples where he claimed that the ’90s got too much credit in rap, the internet blew up. Old heads came at him saying that he was the problem in Hip Hop and he had no respect for the genre. The outrage even culminated in a war of words between Vince Staples and 90’s rapper Noreaga (aka N.O.R.E), the exact type of New York brass knuckles lyricist that’s been swept away by contemporary tastes. The irony is that Staples clearly has a ton of respect for hip hop, knows all of the classics, and can absolutely rap his ass off. The only L.A. rapper on the 2014 All-Star Rap Squad, Staples rewarded my trust in him with one of the seminal albums of the year, Summertime ’06.

Vince Staples doesn’t deserve all of the flack he’s received, but there’s a reasonable frustration from the older hip hop heads. In every other genre, the great records of the past have been able to institutionally enter the classic canon. Whether through enshrinement in a hall of fame or a countdown on VH1 or a list in Rolling Stone, rock and roll found a way to embed itself into the cultural consciousness. The fact that hip hop has made it so far into popular culture without acceptance by any of these gatekeepers is impressive on it’s own, but it’s also had a terrible side effect. The music business continually treats rap music as a continual fad, so only the young guns are given commercial opportunities. Old rappers don’t get radio play or label support. It’s one thing for new rappers to rebel against the old generation, it’s another thing entirely to grow up without knowing who they are.

Pitting past against present is a false binary. These rappers exist in completely different contexts. There’s only a handful of rappers working today that wouldn’t be laughed off of a stage in the 90’s; conversely there’s only a handful of rappers from the 90’s who would even get a record deal today. It’s crazy to fault a genre this propulsive for changing every year. It’s absurd that rap doesn’t have its own hall of fame and golden oldies stations (although we’re trying–word to KDAY). But that’s why these lists like SPIN made are fun. We get to span eras and see how the genre has evolved. Vince Staples might not sound like a 90’s rappers, but like many of his peers, his music is grappling with the ghosts of rappers past. The old king is dead, long live the new king. Here’s to the next 30 years being just as revolutionary.

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Hungry Hippopotamus Best Albums of 2014: #4 – Rich Gang

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Reacquaint yourself with the list here and here.

Atlanta is one of the most creative and chaotic places in rap, offering up new stars and seeing them fizzle out in the time span it takes a major label to make a decision. It has the greatest rap infrastructure in the country, but in 2014 it yielded more hot singles than lasting projects. Enter Birdman, CEO of Cash Money Records, always on the hunt for new talent, taking two of ATL’s hottest new rappers under his wing and putting them in his own collective, Rich Gang. It was a match made in heaven. Tha Tour Part 1 is a showcase for the chemistry between Young Thug and Rich Homie Quan, their natural pop instincts highlighted by the opulent sparkle of breakout producer London On Da Track, and their shrill ebullience given gravitas by Birdman’s (absolutely essential) shit talk peppered all over the record. The tape was supposed to just be a preview; an advertisement for greater things to come. But Tha Tour Part 1 exceeded expectations and ended up as the best mixtape of the year.

Young Thug spent 2014 as a rap supernova, stopping time and bending gravity with every verse. But he always did his best work with partners who either provided a strong base to bounce off of (see T.I. or Trae The Truth), or ones who could keep up the energy and let Thug stay in the stratosphere (see PeeWee Longway and Bloody Jay). But Quan is different. They speak the same language and carve out areas in their music that weren’t there before. Their chemistry is vidid in every bar; the way they finish each other’s thoughts, the way they relate to what the other said, the obscure references to each other’s songs. There are strong solo moments on the tape. Quan delivers a touching love ballad in “Milk Marie” and Thugga goes super saiyan on opener “Givenchy,” but they really just act as filler for the glorious duets that highlight the mixtape. Quan claimed that him and Thug were the best duo since Outkast and that’s a heavy crown to bear. But after hearing them harmonize (harmonies! in rap!) it’s hard not to believe it too.

There a ton of great moments on Tha Tour Part 1, from the bonkers beats from London On Da Track and Dun Deal, to the way Birdman describes his bathroom, to Young Thug saying Uber (UUUUUU-BAHHH, it can never be said any other way now), but the thread connecting this large, unorganized project is the fraternity between the two leads. Rich Homie Quan plays the romantic, always searching for love, always crusading for a better lot in life. Thugga Thug plays the cynic, enjoying the moment while hardening his heart for the next. They’re like a rap game Boy Meets World. It’s a partnership that allows them to celebrate the joys of cunnilingus in “Tell Em (Lies)” and then drop a heartbreakingly poignant song about teaching their kids how to grow up on “Freestyle” without any dissonance. It’s a reminder that these guys are artists and their music has just as much depth as any other rap out there.

Looking back from a distance, the best mixtape of 2014 seems like a lost opportunity. The cast and characters that made this tape so wonderful are no longer together. Rich Homie Quan has focused on his solo career, leading to a rift with him and Young Thug. Birdman’s relationship with Thug has shifted from inspirational to menacing due to all the drama with his former protege Lil Wayne. Tha Tour Pt. 1 was named for two reasons: there would be a tour featuring Quan and Thug, and there would be a part two. Neither has happened. If this was going to be their one moment it would have been great if they made it truly spectacular: cleaned up the sound quality, edited out the excess tracks, added their hit single “Lifestyle” and some other standouts from the hundreds of songs they recorded, and really carved out their spot in rap history. But alas, Tha Tour Pt. 1 remains a beautiful anomaly, a brief moment where the sum total of its parts added up to something greater than the individuals. 

Get the mixtape here. It’s free!