THE KISSIN’ KATE BARLOW PLAYLIST.

MY MASTERS.

a countdown

by Hunter Jon

I came to hip-hop late in my life, but I’ve sufficiently made up for lost time. And although I’m still far from an aficionado, I’ve explored the genre enough to have a list of rappers whom I love. I’ve pared this down to solo MCs, though. No groups allowed. So there go Beastie Boys and The Roots. I’ve also left out anyone I admire more for their producing skills, like Kanye or RZA. And as much as I love Gil Scott-Heron and Grandmaster Flash, I don’t think their work technically sits within the genre it gave birth to. Maybe that’s a contradiction. Oh well.

Here are my favourite hip-hop artists.

14.

“I talk to women/I just can’t talk for women/that’s

for you/we need women for that/more women in rap…

… there’s no girls rapping so we only hearing half the truth”

He’s a unique rapper. He doesn’t curse. He’s insightful and radical. Every song lets you into his head and heart while spouting some seriously spot-on social commentary. And his intellect allows for precise, dense articulation that is, quite frankly, rare in this genre.

The purpose of every verse seems to be pushing the conversation of equality forward. Yet while his substance may be more progressive than his peers, his sound has great reverence for the traditions of hip-hip. So his stuff allows you to brave the new world while safely wrapped in nostalgia’s weighted blanket.

Good, raw rap is often fuelled by anger and/or frustration towards what was. Shad’s songs are mostly celebrating what could be. He explores optimism every chance he gets. In other words: happy rap. It’s a welcome change of pace sometimes. He never fails to put a smile on my face and it’s important to keep people like that close. So I do just that.

I can’t pretend to be familiar with everything he’s released. But I love everything I’ve heard. Specifically his album “Tsol”, which has been very helpful over the years, emotionally speaking. I love on “Keep Shining” when he says: “Well you can’t be everything to everyone, so let me be anything to anyone.” I think about that line a lot.

Plus, his stuff is generously peppered with lots of celebrity & movie references, which I’m an absolute sucker for.

13.

A very recent addition, but she’s made one hell of an impression on me. I heard the hype before I heard her. To say I was pleasantly surprised when I finally did is to sell her short. I just kept listen to songs like “Good At” and “Neva” over and over, wondering if she was really this good or if my taste & judgement had been turned upside down because of the headlines…?

The truth, I’ve come to believe, is that Megan is simply very good at her job. She’s quite prolific and I’d normally attribute that to a record label trying to make as much money as possible. But something tells me that’s not the case here. I think she’s just overflowing with emotions/opinions and needs to rap to survive. In other words: she’s the real deal. Once I dove into her albums, I noticed I wasn't skipping any tracks. Every single one was worth my time (although I do prefer her solo songs - featured players mostly distract from the main event).

Sometimes fame and talent don’t line up. Often someone will ascend to the coveted mainstream and I’ll be scratching my head, wondering how they did it. Ambition is usually the answer. So what happens when you have talent to back up your drive? You take over your corner of the world. Which is what Megan has done. Her ambition is evident, but so is her immense skill. She’s a relentless, uncompromising expressionist and is raising the bar when it comes to being fierce. Also worth praising: none of her sexual lyrics feel forced. I totally buy that that’s just who she is. Refreshing.

I suppose I should mention how much I enjoy her signature sense of humour. There - I just did.

She’s an artist of tomorrow; exhibiting where both pop culture and human nature are headed. There’s a male “energy” that unfortunately fuels this particular industry. The lifestyles, personas and the videos showing each off - all championing hardy libidos and excessive wealth. Whereas a lot of female rappers try to establish themselves outside of that toxic trend, Megan is fighting fire with fire. She’s flexing the same muscles that the boys are, but she’s doing so as a woman. Does that make sense? I hope so... because it’s impressive and important.

Whether she’s doing back-to-the-basics hip-hop or more radio-ready pop-rap (thankfully she favours the former) she always seems to be delivering something worthy of the attention she’s getting.

P.S. Fran Leibovitz commented on the concerning trend of people wanting (or needing) to relate to a character in order to enjoy a book. If they don’t identify with anyone, they’re likely to put it down or, worse, mistake this for bad writing. Fran’s summation was this: “I can’t find Fran in ‘Moby Dick’. I don’t think she’s in there…” Well, Ms Stallion and I are about as similar as Fran and Captain Ahab. But I don’t have to see myself in her to love her.

12.

I’m cheating here because I’m most familiar with her from Funky 4+1 (she was the plus one) and I said no groups. But this list would feel entirely incomplete without her on it. I love her that much.

When rap was very much a boys club, she snuck inside… and changed the game for the better. It’s easy to draw a line from one female rapper to the next and the next and so on. But this woman was such a pioneer of the very medium that her influence on male rappers knows no bounds, either. Whether they realize it or not, nearly every hip-hop artist who came after this woman owes her a debt of gratitude.

She was by far the strongest voice in Funky 4+1. Her verse was always the speediest, funnest, most well crafted one in the song. Not to mention the most personal and insightful. And there’s a playful spirit to her that’s infectious. You can literally hear her having a good time, and in a time long before people got filthy rich rhyming, it ends there for her - having fun. So there’s a purity to her presence; fame and fortune cloud nothing.

She also did something very wise that paid off: rather than try to beat the boys at their game (a nearly impossible task in this era), she joined them and settled for being billed as +1 for the opportunity to play in the big leagues. A lot of people’s egos and pride wouldn’t allow them to do that. Those people are still waiting by the phone. And in a way, being in a group with four men worked to her advantage because when her turn would come she would kick her fellow funkies’ asses; heightened by comparison. 

Her nickname was “Mother of the Mic”. C’mon - how awesome is that? She also holds the title of the first female MC. Ever. Was she really, though? It actually doesn’t matter. She deserves that title. She earned it. If genius truly is doing something so well that everything that follows is imitation, then she is a genius.

11.

He’s the ultimate rapper’s rapper. If you’re a deep fan of hip-hop, he’s a god. If you lean more toward mainstream material, you might not even know who he is. So he’s not famous to the extent that it effects his music. He’s exactly where I’d want to be as an artist. In film buff speak - you don’t want to be Steven Spielberg. You want to be Herzog, right? Well, in rap, you don’t want to be Jay-Z. You want to be Nas. He’s not a brand. He not overshadowed by an empire. He’s a hip-hop artist with two capital Hs and an A. He’s brought attention to hip-hop as an art form like no one else. He doesn’t design songs to be released as singles in hopes of landing them on the charts. He makes albums that demand to be listened to from top to bottom; complete pieces of work. He’s closer to being classified a poet than anyone else on this list.

He’s been consistently contemporary throughout his career. Like all great musical artists, you have to move forward or you go stale. Bowie did it. Heart did it. And Nas continues to do it. Listening to his evolution has been a delight. He’s gotten himself to a point where he’s bound by nothing because he’s tried everything. He’s been political. Personal. Mad. Optimistic. Dabbled in low production values and the biggest. There’s a huge difference between, say, the last track on “Illmatic” and the last track on “God’s Plan”; a duet with Jully Black. Yet both are great in their own way.

Speaking of “Illmatic”, it gets all the attention. I get it - it’s wonderful. But his sophomore release, “It Was Written”, is what I consider his masterpiece. And it challenged me when I first heard it. I thought the intro was a bit “over-dramatic” and doubted how much he could really relate to it. I’m sad and ashamed that I was once that ignorant, but happy and grateful that I had Nas as a teacher.

10.

“Drop your glasses/Shake your asses”

And so it began. She was the first female rapper I knew. And I liked her. Ten year old me wondered - did women really talk like that? They must, I decided. Because even at that age I could tell the difference between a genuine personality and a phoney one. In an era of two-faced, shallow, carefully crafted pop princesses, there was a refreshing reality about Eve.

She brought a very important female perspective to the genre because (and I hope I’m not projecting this onto her) deep down she’s a romantic. And she wasn’t afraid to acknowledge it. A lot of her peers had a real hostile “fuck men - I don’t need them” attitude. Whether they meant it or not it made them money, so it became a kind of standard. Meanwhile, Eve seemed to like men. She would actually rap about being in love. I can’t think of anyone else from her generation who did so in such a tender, celebratory way. It’s a nice reminder that even people displaying tough-as-nails traits want a hand to hold.

So many of her songs would seem sufficient as instrumentals. Really great production. The kinda beats that get people who don’t dance dancing. But once Eve’s fiery delivery accompanies these beats, any instrumental would suddenly seem awfully inadequate.

She also reached a level of mainstream popularity that others simply haven’t, regardless of how many records they sold. Let’s put it this way: my sister and I, two 90s white kids, used to dance around to Eve at sleepovers. She broke through. You can’t do any of these things without an incredible amount of talent and (never underestimate it) personality.

Great actress, too.

9.

I’d kinda been looking for her my whole life. Explanation: on the album “The Simpsons Sing the Blues” there’s a song called “Deep Deep Trouble”. It’s a rap by Bart. I loved this whole album growing up, and could place plenty of musical references, homages and influences throughout. But I’d never heard anything similar to that specific song and wanted more. However, I couldn’t find anything like it in the hip-hop of the late ‘90s or early ‘00s. Then I started listening to Shanté and found what I was looking for, specifically in the song “Bad Sister”.

In the 50s, teens took over the mainstream. A ton of music that followed was designed to relate to girls in middle school. Who knows whether it captured their feelings of longing or dictated them…? Either way - those songs connected with a generation. Roxanne is the 80’s answer to that connection. And she’s more Lesley Gore than anyone else - telling boys off; she doesn’t need them to do her thing. Actually, come to think of it, her music isn’t so much aimed at middle school girls as it is the middle school dropouts. Therefore her narratives paint a much darker (and honest) picture than those of 60’s lolli-pop.

I’m sure at the time her profanity turned a few heads. Just listen to “Straight Razor”. Yet I never get the sense that she’s saying what she’s saying for the mere shock-value that so many rappers lean on to grab attention.

She was very flexible. She could rap a cute track about meeting up after school for a fight. She could then rap a cautionary tale about addiction and prostitution. Then of course there’s the infamous “Roxanne Wars”. The running theme here is that Roxanne is a fighter. Fighting men. Fighting other women. Fighting to make a name for herself. Fighting to clear that name. Fighting prejudice & sexism. Fighting. Fighting. Fighting. She once did a photoshoot wearing boxing gloves. I think they suit her more than most actual boxers.

8.

I’m a huge fan of her pop stuff so I went back and immersed myself in her earlier work, which is mostly hip-hop. It only made me love her more.

She’s the whole package, bursting with as much personality as talent. She exudes incomparable confidence but isn’t afraid to suggest her insecurities either. You can tell how important that expression is to her: she had to work very hard to develop this level of self-appreciation and not all of that work is done.

The production of her music is some of the best in the business right now. Big sounds that match her energy. It gets you going. Pumps you up. Lyrically and musically. And damn, can she rap fast. Not that speed equals quality, but it can be awful fun when done right. That (maybe along with the cheekiness) seems to be her ultimate goal: FUN. Well, she’s succeeding. She might be the ‘funnest’ person on this list.

For anyone who’s curious about her hip-hop but might not know where to begin, I recommend these:

Luv It

Pants vs. Dress

Faded

Bus Passes and Happy Meals

7.

I only know one album - “Make Way For The Motherlode” - so that’s what I’m basing my entire opinion of her on. It’s one of my favourite hip-hip albums ever, so that opinion is rather high. I guess I’ll just briefly review it…

The first word’s we hear are “wake up”. Perfect. There is so much meaning behind those words. But they’re spoken by a man. This initially disappointed me… until I realized that this man works for Yo-Yo and not the other way around. Then I got it. Welcome to the 90s.

The whole thing is framed as if you’re listening to the radio, complete with a disc jockey intro, interludes and outro. It’s like Yo-Yo’s saying: if this stuff doesn’t make it into the Top 40, it should. It’s certainly ready, with its sizeable production value (samples and all) that gallops alongside her full speed rhymes, which are never without meaning.

There’s an urgency to everything. Like Yo-Yo is both trying to make up for lost time and has one foot in the future and is trying to spit out a prophecy before we see it for ourselves. She does all this while existing in a unique space. Because she’s a fiery force with whom you shouldn’t mess but isn’t too angry to be approachable or accessible. You feel like Yo-Yo is rooting for you and your dreams as much as she is driving hers home. I imagine this sense is only heightened if you’re a woman.

Yo-Yo has a clear message, which isn’t that women are on their way - it’s that they’re already here (and always have been). All the album’s tracks have themes and vibes that suggest she’s more of an up-front feminist than all her competitors. While so many of them seem to be doing just that - competing; trying to tear each other down in a scramble to the top - Yo-Yo encourages and empowers. She named her crew IBWC. Which stands for Intelligent Black Women Coalition. This says it all. Firstly, that she’s intelligent. And lastly, with “coalition”, that’s she not the only one.

6.

“I’m the quintessential mistress of the instrumental…”

At her peak, Brown might’ve been the MC, in the sense that if someone asked me, “What’s hip-hop?” and I had to choose one artist of the moment to best represent rap - I’d point them toward Foxy. All the staples are tightly in place. She encompasses everything there is to celebrate about this genre of music.

Her influences are as clear and her influence. I hear her style in those who came before and after. But there’s one specific comparison that must be made: how dark, honest and confessional she can be reminds me of Eminem. And as far as releasing records go - she came first. Just sayin’.

She can be confident (“Foxy’s Bells”), vulnerable (“If I…”), or both at the same time (“Fallin'”) - but always personal. Someone recently told me that you can ingest things (emotions, memories, trauma) in and down or bring them up and out. Foxy bring them up and out to a degree that I know more about her inner thoughts & feelings than those of some people I call friends. She digs deep and plasters her pain all over her work. As someone who struggles with their own addiction and substance abuse issues, the honesty of her art is very much appreciated. I heal a little bit every time I listen to “The Letter”.

Not that age matters when it comes to these things, but I feel compelled to point out the quality of work she was producing at such a young age. She released her first album, which I consider her masterpiece, when she was 18. Not exactly unusual in the rap-game. What is unusual is the maturity within.

All this talent took her to the tippy top… and unfortunately that’s where the hate lies in wait. I’m not sure if people genuinely didn’t like her music (or her) or if they were just jealous. Then of course there’s always gonna be some film snob somewhere asking, “Has she even seen that movie?” Well, to all her naysayers… 

“It’s like hustling backwards/Nothing y’all said made an ounce of sense/My moves be calculated, documented/No matter what you sell, I got you in a minute/Take a look at your charts - watch me climb”

Climb, Foxy, climb.

5.

My Nana liked Lauryn Hill. Because she is a poet first and a rapper second (Hill, not my Nana - she did not rap). Therefore people who don’t care for hip-hop can still appreciate this woman’s talent. You could go so far as to say she’s a rapper for non-rap fans.

I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I’m capable of dismissing the entire Fugees catalogue for a moment - just a moment - to celebrate her solo work. It stands that strong.

No one, not a single artist, has brought more soul to hip-hop than this woman right here. And that’s not all she brings: a sense of history, a refreshing grace and patience, an irresistible fusion with R&B, an audible appreciation of jazz, and a nurturing quality - to name just a few more. She is a teacher. Listen, and you will learn.

Unlike most on this list, Lauryn falls into a more chilled, laid-back category of rap. But whereas others are usually stoned in this space, she consciously creates a safe, sober atmosphere. Your senses won’t be assaulted in her hands. That’s hard to do, and speaks volumes about her nature. You can’t counterfeit what she’s offering.

It also wouldn’t be right to write about Hill and not mention her faith, which beautifully brings her music to life. And vice versa.

My favourite line of hers isn’t even a line - it’s the title of a song:

“Everything is Everything”.

4.

All you have to do is give his magnum opus “Juicy” one listen to fall madly in love with Biggie. But here are three more reasons why I love the guy…

1. His heart. He was the John Candy of hip-hop; just one giant heart. He oozed passion, tenderness and vulnerability that simultaneously melted and broke your own heart.

2. He made it. “It was all a dream/I used to read ‘Word Up’ magazine”… What is it about those words that sum it all up? I don’t know - but they do. Usually when people come from nothing and make their dreams come true, those of us who still struggle feel blinding jealousy. But once in a blue moon that envy is replaced by overwhelming admiration and inspiration. This seems to unanimously be the case here. Which, yes, can mostly be attributed to his aforementioned big heart. But also to…

3. His immense talent. The Notorious B.I.G. a legend for one reason above all: how good he was. Simple as that. Strip away the rags to riches story, the infamous feud, the headline gossip, that ‘gangster’ persona, the fact that he died tragically young, his sheer lovability and you’re left with someone who was simply better at the game than everyone else. 

“And if you don’t know/Now you know…” No excuses.

3.

“I guess I’m lucky, though/Lonely for sure”

If she is anything like the persona she puts forth on her albums, I might be in love with her. I have such an affection for her and her music that it’s hard to not simply leave it at that. But I’ll do my best to further break down her appeal and profound talent.

Some artists’ work must be filed into the context of their era to be impressive. Just because something blew people’s minds at a certain time, doesn’t mean it will stand the test of it. It’s a true gift when something that broke new ground holds up and always will. Lyte’s music may sound vintage now, but its core quality is timeless. Good music is good music - regardless of historical context. Having said all that - I can’t go without acknowledging what a visionary revolutionist she was. Her stuff doesn’t sound familiar because she copied what was popular. It’s because people copied her, sometimes to greater popularity.

She’s always been ahead of her time. When compared to what else was on the landscape, her album from 1988 sounds like it’s from 1993. Her album from 1993 sounds like it’s from 1996. You can also hear her mature over the years. Not just thematically, but the literal pitch of her voice. She sounds like a kid on her earliest tracks. Which makes sense - she nearly was. When listening to this early material, it would be easy to say: wow, she’s had a level of life experience far beyond fellow rappers. But that diminishes what she really had, which was an insight into that life experience that was often lightyears ahead of others’.

Let’s talk about the song “Ruffneck”. This is something Lyte’s does regularly: musically, it’s clearly gonna be the most popular song on the album. You don’t just want to nod along - you want to jump around. It even has the potential be a radio hit. But lyrically, it’s so sexually explicit that a censored version of it simply can’t exist - you’d have to censor the entire song. It feels like a blunt bait-and-switch; teasing something mainstream only to yank it back. This kind of refusal to compromise makes me smile.

Unusually, Lyte comes across as very kind. Assertive? Yes. Maybe even abrasive at times. But never at the cost of a sweetness that feels very, very genuine. It must be, because she’s such an open book. Her music really lets you in, each song revealing a little bit more of her character. Her extreme honesty, especially on tracks like “Like a Virgin” (which blows Madonna’s out of the water), “2 Young 4 What”, is almost alarming. But, unlike other rappers, that degree of transparency isn’t to shock - it’s to establish unparalleled intimacy.

In the end, MC offers everything I could ask for in a hip-hop artist. She tells stories that actually interest me, set to great beats, seamless sampling, and the catchiest hooks. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve caught myself singing the chorus to “I Cram to Understand U” under my breath. It’s just forever stuck in my head - and I’m more than fine with that.

If you’re searching for that definitive old school hip-hop sound brought to you by an irresistible personality, look no further than this woman right here. In my books, she is the Queen of this era, with chess rules applying; she outranks any King.

2.

Let’s be honest - when it comes to subject matter, there’s a lot of repetition in rap. Actually, there’s a quite a bit in music of any kind. But Macklemore has rapped about everything from thrift stores to drugs to sneakers to “Same Love” to baseball. Oh, and let’s not forget “The Penis Song”. In this sense alone, he’s a huge breath of fresh air. Every song carries a clean, clear intent. There’s nothing murky nor cryptic - and certainly nothing generic -

about his storytelling.

He’s got very refreshing motives. He peels off pieces of himself and throws them up on the big board for no other reason than to encourage and inspire our best selves. However, he’s also aware that, as a flip-side to all the heavy confessions and preaching, it’s important to have fun sometimes. There’s as much healing power in being silly as there is in being serious.

I can’t think of a more versatile rapper. Thematically and musically. He and Ryan Lewis have explored genres within the genre. If I didn’t speak English, I’d be impressed. Macklemore’s passionate delivery and the accompanying production would be enough to blow me away. But understanding what’s being said takes their stuff to a whole other level of brilliance. And the very fact that he credits Lewis right along side of himself speaks volumes. That’s the mark of healthy humility; someone who’s recovered through a program and rid himself of the hubris that fuels most in this industry.

Lots of rappers have thick skin. Or they pretend they do. Macklemore doesn’t seem to have any skin. His insides are entirely exposed. No hiding. This, I believe, is necessary if you want your art to literally save people. Which I have no doubt his has. I listen to him and hear who and where I want to be. I agree with every idea - hell, every word - this man has put forth. That can’t be said about any other rapper.

If, like me, you’ve been fortunate enough to follow the arc of his career (and personal journey) in real time - it’s been one profound ride. I understand myself a lot better because of it.

“They’re gonna be so disappointed/When they roll the credits and/I realize my movie sucked and I was the only one who could edit it”

1.

Perhaps predictable... but, seriously - is there anyone greater?

Obviously I don’t think so.

Some people are just born with a gift. Einstein was smart. Marion Dougherty cast. Michael Jordan played ball. Eminem raps. I truly believe he was put on Earth to do so. Yet, in a cruel irony, he might be the most insecure person in the whole music industry. People who think he’s an arrogant, overly-confident prick misunderstand him. He’s never satisfied - with his music nor himself. He’s his own biggest critic. And that’s one of the reasons his music is so good. For one, that self-loathing results in a level of pain from which the greatest art rises. Plus, beating himself up about the quality of the last song or album means he’s constantly pushing forward and trying to be better. This results is an ever-growing artist who has established a longevity like no else in his field. The quality of his legacy is that of a true legend.

Eminem has to rap. Why? Maybe he needs an outlet for his anger. Maybe it’s a creative itch that he can’t stop from scratching. Maybe he likes the paycheque. Regardless - he’s pretty prolific. Not everything he’s released has been a home-run, but even his weakest material is above par. His best work is so exceptionally good that even when he stumbles or falls he’s still on a higher plain than most rappers.

For a myriad of reasons I’ve probably invested more time in his music than anyone else’s (…with the exception of The Beatles, of course). I simply don’t think there’s another rapper as vulnerable or skilled. You’ve gotta have both if want to to really speak to people while entertaining them. This combination makes people feel less alone in ways that few things can. Therefore, I’ve spent a good portion of my life in Em’s capable hands.

When I was nine years old two things were dropped on the world that (finally) didn’t lie to children: “South Park” and “The Slim Shady LP”. Like most kids, I established a profound emotional connection to the man behind the latter. The duality that he kicked things off with has ensured that he can say literally anything he thinks or feels. He built in a way to go uncensored his whole career. Thank goodness, because this guy has a lot of things to say and I want to hear everything. Literally millions of us either identified with him or learned a great deal from him. In my case? Both. We trusted him when adults were shielding us from the darker side of reality. Personally, I’ll always love him for exposing me to that truth.