Some people are too talented to be confined to just one lane.
Vincent Edward “Bo” Jackson was the rare two-sport athlete. He could have been a Hall of Famer in both baseball and football.
Lauryn Hill was the rare two-discipline musical artist. She could have had the greatest career as both a rapper and a singer.
They also shared several other traits in common: reaching incredible heights; colleagues accusing them of being difficult; focusing on their families; and, above all, not being interested in living up to the outsized expectations created by their early acts of brilliance.
As both my personal and professional lives became not just busier, but also more complex, my writing output — and my readership and reach — has declined.
However, I do feel like almost everything I do publish these days is worthy of being clicked on and read. I couldn’t always honestly say that. Still, some things are better than others so I’ve collected the best things I wrote this year — a tradition that dates all the way back to 2015. It’s like my own personal literary version of Spotify Wrapped.
So please take a look below and, if something strikes you as interesting, please give it a click.
Rappers and hip-hop artists of a certain type value lyricism (“bars”) over pretty much everything else.
As a purist, I appreciate that, but I think it ignores a vital yet rare skill that only some MCs possess, even those that can fill notebooks: the ability to write and deliver a great chorus.
MC’s that can craft an intricate hook hold a higher spot in my personal rankings and the LOX have some of the best rap choruses in hip-hop history.
The last half of the 1990s was a period of major transition in hip-hop.
The game’s two biggest stars were gunned down and the genre’s mightiest record label crumbled.
From the ashes rose the shiny suit era, but there was something else bubbling underground. A cadre of small, independent record labels began releasing all types of rap as an entire new class of young, hungry artists burst onto the scene.
One of those labels was Rawkus Records and its roster included one of those artists, Mos Def.
In the opening moments of the iconic track, “N.Y. State of Mind,” Nas almost mumbles, “I don’t know how to start this shit.”
It’s appropriate, almost poetic, that this line kept running through my head as I thought about how to approach this review because Daniel Levin Becker’s What’s Good: Notes on Rap and Languageis all about lines and lyrics – how they’re created, how deep they go, how they get stuck in our heads, and, awkwardly, what they mean within the larger societal context.
It’s easy to forget now, considering how long ago it was and how much things have changed (both for the group and the industry), but the release of Wu-Tang Forever was an event.
The approach of Westside Gunn and his crew offers valuable wisdom for not only music, but business, writing, and even life
“I really like that whole, like, cliquing up, Griselda shit. It’s just ill to me…I think what they’re doing is great. It just reminds me of a different time and it’s not easy to do. To make that music and just come off wavy and be interesting.”
— Drake
The 2010s was a decade in which the line between rap and other genres became not only blurred, but largely nonexistent. Referred to by some as the “melodic era,” it was no longer a rarity or even a surprise to see a hip-hop artist transition into harmonizing, and while that had certainly been done in the past, it now became de rigueur as Drake, Young Thug, and many others rode that wave to stardom.
At the same time, some dudes stepped onto the scene and began flooding the market with their own music that sounded fresh but at the same time reminiscent of projects that had been released in the mid-’90s. No singing, no theatrics, just grim street tales of drugs and violence delivered over grimy, pounding basslines, creating a “gnarly sound inspired by the slimy criminal underbelly of Buffalo, New York.”