Don’t adjust your monitors, kids. Yes, this is a Hip Hop feature here on Inside Pulse. We’ve heard from plenty of readers who’ve complained that the genre is treated like the redheaded (Kingpin) stepchild around these parts, while independent (read: parents’ basement) and/or obscure third world rock n’ roll and heavy metal acts get all the IP love.
And, now we’re really gonna give y’all something to complain about.
No matter how many ways you try to spin a list of “essentials”, the thought of listing my five “must-have classic” albums didn’t really appeal to me. Hip Hop’s hype machine is always on and the thought of one more self-important opinion on what you should have in your collection in order to keep it real…as the kids say…just ain’t my thing.
That said…I do have an opinion as to what should be in everyone’s collection. But, it’s not so much the albums that you should focus on as it’s why these specific choices appeal to me. Hell, my five choices arguably range from “five star” to “forgettable”…at least to you.
But, to me…well, I guess there’s really no way I can finish this sentence without sounding like the I’m-better-than-you blowhard I was bashing two paragraphs ago, is there? So, check out my list of the five essential albums and feel free to ignore the titles and artists.
On, my list, you don’t need either to be “essential”.
Just as we’re all drawn to the big budget blockbuster movies every summer, music fans should not be dissuaded from jumping on the hyperbole bandwagon at least once in their lives. After all, it’s the album that everyone is talking about and you don’t wanna be the last person on your block without a copy, do you? Be sheep”¦you might like it. In the case of Snoop’s seminal 1993 debut, the city of Long Beach, CA (where I was born, raised and living at the time) pretty much shut down on Tuesday, November 23, 1993. At midnight, virtually every record store in town opened their doors to move units for lines of fans that snaked through parking lots and up and down city blocks. And, in several parts of Long Beach, the only people out that late were the same ones that Snoop was rappin’ about. Doggystyle was the absolute apex of the West Coast movement in rap music. A hungry young artist with a lifetime to craft the rhymes that would make his career and a producer (Dr. Dre) who still had something to prove. Its greatness is in the simple fact that neither man has ever come close to recapturing this sound.
While Snoop Dogg was seemingly a celebrity from the first time anyone heard Deep Cover, Warren G. represented something else, altogether. And, no matter where in the world you might reside, every music fan owes it to themselves to support the home team. Find that local artist or band you can get behind…and it’s even better if you can find them when they’re still “local”. It just makes any success they receive that much sweeter, since you knew them when. In the case of Warren G, he was making a name for himself on the Long Beach DJ scene in the early ’90s. Most of us in the city had heard his work in the clubs and on the boards and it was no surprise when his 1993 single off the Poetic Justice soundtrack, Indo Smoke, blew up like it did. He was already doing some uncredited work for Death Row Records, but left the label as its star was on the rise. When he dropped Regulate…, it was an even prouder time for the city than when Snoop’s debut joint hit the streets. You might remember Snoop’s murder (was the) case, around the same time. Warren’s album moved four million copies. And, while the G-Funk sound and lightweight lyrics haven’t all held up over time, for a quick minute, the sun rose and set in the West.
Although, it’s become a repetitive cliché in the industry, the artists that actively rep their hood in their work weren’t always about shouting “Brooklyn, WHAT!?” at the top of their lungs. In fact, if you listen hard enough, you’ll hear many acts pepper their work with neighborhood references and names that only those in the know would, well”¦know. On their one and only album, twin brothers Deon and Dwayne Williams spit several bars that no one outside of the six block radius where they lived (in Long Beach”¦again) would get. And, that’s just one reason why no one bought this album when it came out in 1995. Conversation was also heavy on the introspection with tracks like Round & Round, Good Times and Hollywood playing off of themes like growing up and selling out. This album was released during my first year at San Diego State University and stayed in my tape deck, nonstop it seemed, through at least two semesters. The excellently laced Deniece Williams sample on Eastside LB made it my anthem, while the cuts that explained the conflicts of realizing success while remembering your roots hit me close to home.
I am a Nate Dogg apologist, pure and simple. I could listen to this brutha read names out of the phone book and I’d probably put down $11.99 for the honor. So, it was with a singular anticipation that I picked up his double disc debut the day it was released back in 1998. And, based on the sales, I was the singular brutha who bought it. For all of his fame, Nate doesn’t have much in the way of vocal range. And, I suppose one could successfully argue that he’s creatively stretched outside of his trademark hooks, but on this album, none of that matters. Nobody Does It Better was the song that my wife and I used to officially introduce us at our wedding reception. And, that was only after eliminating Bag O’ Weed and Dirty Ho’s Draws from the list of contenders. G-Funk… also features the last real Death Row work of Snoop Dogg on the underrated Never Leave Me Alone. C’mon…what’s not to love there? Because I Got A Girl taught me that adultery was fun, Scared of Love says that commitment sucks and all of it sounds like the greatest songs ever sung. Preach on, Nate! Preach on!
Usually, when I buy an album that’s as spectacularly awful as Kurupt’s Kuruption double disc, that artist is forever crossed off my Kwanzaa list. But, with a few bucks burning a hole in my pocket, I copped his Streetz Iz A Mutha album and loved it. Two years later, he dropped Space Boogie and I was blown the hell away. Yet ask any Kurupt fan and they’ll tell you that this 2001 release was absolute ass. F*ck ’em, I say. F*ck ’em all. This was a high-risk attempt by Kurupt to bring together new sounds and voices to his tried-and-true gangsta themes and damned if almost all of them worked. Fred Durst and Nate Dogg on Lay It On Back? Sorry, but it’s a great track. Jon B. on the uptempo party track Sunshine? Smooth as hell and a lot of fun. Additional guest spots by DJ Lethal, Everlast and Lil’ ½ Dead? I’m telling you, it’s all infinitely better than you might think. Meanwhile, the Fred Wreck production on cuts like Space Boogie and Hate on Me is on another level. Truth be told, this should’ve been the album that served as Kurupt’s breakthrough. However, the colossal miscalculation of dropping the Hip-Pop It’s Over Now as the first single killed this album before it had a chance.
Now, that’s how you do essentials.
