What's in Your Hip-Hop Canon?

Last week WNYC’s Soundcheck had a conversation about the validity of a hip-hop canon, no doubt inspired by Brian Coleman’s fine new addition to the field of hip-hop studies. Personally I’m not a big fan of canons, since the very premise of one elicits a form of elitism. That said, as folk ranging from Paula Zahn to your local high school social studies teacher feel compelled to bring themselves up to speed on things, it may be tactically useful to present folk with a list that some of us think of as most reflective of what this thing is. I regularly stand in front of classrooms filled with 18-21 year olds (as many of them Black as they are White, Latino/a and Asian) who stare blankly into space when I mention folk like Whodini, A Tribe Called Quest and Gangstarr. Jazz scholars and critics often talk about this concept known as the “common practice” period—that period in jazz history, where most of the elements that make Jazz, Jazz, are present. If I had to identify a “common practice” period for hip-hop, it would be from 1987- 1992. With that in mind, I’d like to offer my own hip-hop canon.

Just a few things about my choices. I was a fully grown man when It Takes A Nation of Millions was released, so my taste in hip-hop reflects that of a fully grown man, who's been married for 16 years, has two daughters under the age of 10 and who drives a minivan. Also, because of my vocation, I heard hip-hop, particularly in the 1990s with cats like Habermas, Baudrillard, Michael Eric Dyson, Skip Gates, Patricia Hill-Collins and Greg Tate whispering in my other ear. Finally, this is not meant to be some comprehensive list—there are folk like Em, Mr. Fiddy and T.I., for example—who I simply don’t be checking for. That said this list is biased—premised on an east coast, quite frankly, New York bias, that I’m proud of.

Read the Full Essay at Critical Noir @ Vibe.com