The Best Hip-Hop Producer Alive, Every Year Since 1979
Rap lyrics pop into our heads at inappropriate times, end up as our yearbook quotes, and work their way into our everyday conversations. But very few bars would be as memorable if not for the music that accompanies them.
Great production can make even the most objectionable or cheesy lyrics sound great. The producers who create these beats may not be as glamorous as the rappers who spit over them (at least, most of the time), but they are equally important. Thus, they are equally subject to hip-hop’s sixth element: making lists.
Back in 2015, we chose The Best Rapper Alive, Every Year Since 1979. It was an exhaustive list inspired by a simple idea: a new way to take on the inevitable Top 5/GOAT discussions that dominate the hip-hop conversation. Instead of making the list about how someone stacks up against the entire canon of hip-hop, we narrowed in on who, in any given year, was unbeatable. From Grandmaster Caz in 1979 to Kendrick Lamar in 2017, we chose who had the alchemical combination of quality, momentum, and historical importance at every moment in the genre’s development.
It was only fitting to extend this concept to producers, as well. Producers are, in the words of the old Maoist slogan, holding up half the sky—giving rappers a sonic canvas on which to paint their pictures. Great producers, like rappers, have specific moments when they’re controlling the game, making classics, and setting trends seemingly at will.
A few notes before we begin: Being the BPA in a given year doesn’t mean that you’re the best producer, in whatever qualitative way one might decide these things. All-time greats like DJ Premier, Diamond D, Just Blaze, and Pete Rock—GOAT-level producers by any measure—don’t win a single year. It’s not because they’re not great. It’s that, during any given 12 months, there was always someone who edged them out, either due to volume of standout work (see DJ Quik’s astounding 1991, with four albums that paved the way for West Coast dominance to come); or to influence (in 1992, Dre delivered The Chronic—an album that gives him the prize as he faced perhaps the stiffest competition of any year on this list); or to ushering in a sound that was all of a sudden everywhere, all the time, and came to define its era (take one look at Lil Jon’s 2003 output and try not to imagine yourself in the middle of a Chappelle skit).
So, what exactly does it mean to be a producer? The term has meant different things to different people in different eras. In the early years of rap, it was often the person who paid for the studio time or, alternately, the person who wrote and arranged the music. Sometimes it was the person whose name was on the record, or the record contract. Other times, it was the mad genius who searched through endless records for the perfect beat, or the collective that spent months in the studio side by side. Today, it most frequently means someone who composes a ton of music and shares their signature sound (and producer tag) with a variety of artists. We tried our best to account for all meanings of the word in the list you’re about to read.
This list is meant to spark debate (we know you’ll tell us where you think we got it wrong) and to give credit to the people who inspire us to dance and nod our heads to the beat. Most of all, it’s meant to compel you to go back and (re)discover some of the most exciting, moving, challenging, ubiquitous, and important music of the last four decades. Enjoy.
Illustrations by Sho Hanafusa
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CREDENTIALS: “Rapper’s Delight” (The Sugarhill Gang)
Sylvia Robinson’s story is improbable. It’s the kind of thing that’s rightfully being made into a movie: The woman from the Dirty Dancing song teams up with a mobster and a kid from a pizza parlor to—by a combination of timing, luck, forethought, and stolen lyrics—start a revolution.
Robinson may have ended up as “one of the most reviled businesspeople in hip-hop,” but her story didn’t start that way. Best known at the time for singing “Love Is Strange,” she was a music business lifer who wanted to start a new label with her husband Joe, with a loan from notorious music biz gangster Morris Levy. In the summer of 1979, she was at a party at the uptown nightspot Harlem World when she saw Lovebug Starski playing records and exhorting the crowd in rhyme. “A spirit said to me, ‘Put a concept like that on a record and it will be the biggest thing you ever had,’” she told Vanity Fair years later.
Those who had been laying the groundwork for hip-hop culture at the time had no interest in putting anything on wax. After all, why make a record if you can just go to a party? But Robinson saw that the music could make a mark on places far outside nightclubs and rec centers. Once she had the idea, she knew she had to make the record. So Robinson tasked her son Joey Jr. with finding rappers. He remembered a guy he saw at the local pizza parlor, rounded up two more folks, and the Sugarhill Gang was born.
Sylvia had the idea to re-record Chic’s “Good Times” for the backing track, and even played on the session. (The idea would come back to bite her when the guys who wrote that song heard their music, didn’t see their name on the record, and promptly sued). The three strangers, one using lyrics from a rapper he managed—not even bothering to change the name—stepped in the booth. The result, a nearly 15-minute-long track called “Rapper’s Delight,” somehow worked. Those already steeped in the culture were skeptical, but nearly everyone else was blown away. From radio play on a single station in St. Louis, the song took off to the point that the label was pressing around 50,000 copies a day.
The aftershock was massive. Rap music became something you could not only record, but make money on. Sugar Hill Records is long over, but we’re still living in Sylvia Robinson’s world.
HONORABLE MENTIONS: Bobby Robinson, Rocky Ford and J.B. Moore, Fatback Band
There weren’t many songs released in the first year of recorded rap’s existence, so it’s amazing that there was so much variety. Bobby Robinson, head of Enjoy Records, put out two songs in 1979 that served as purist NYC counterweights to the Jersey-bred “Rapper’s Delight”: “Rapping and Rocking the House” by Funky Four Plus One More and Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five’s “Superappin.’” As for Ford and Moore, they were the team behind Kurtis Blow’s “Christmas Rappin’,” a seasonal song that was so captivating and innovative that it was a hit straight through to the warmer weather months. And the Fatback Band? People argue to this day about whether “Rapper’s Delight” really was the first rap record. The other candidate? Fatback’s “King Tim III (Personality Jock).” Even one of the members of the Sugarhill Gang recalls the Fatback Band’s track predating theirs. It was, however, a B-side and not a single, thus relegating the debate to the realm of academia and record collectors. —Shawn Setaro
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CREDENTIALS: Kurtis Blow (Kurtis Blow)
At the tail end of the 1970s, two Billboard writers, Robert “Rocky” Ford and J.B. Moore, came up with a plan that would help shape the course of hip-hop history. Ford had just written about the emergence of hip-hop in a 1978 article called “B-Beats Bombarding Bronx” and he needed more dough than his music writer salary would permit, with the birth of his son on the way. Another co-worker, Mickey Addy, had written some Christmas songs several years earlier, and his young compatriots liked the idea of a yearly royalty check. So Ford and Moore grabbed Kurtis Blow and wrote “Christmas Rappin’” for him.
The 1979 single became a massive hit and got Blow signed to Mercury Records. Happy with the success, Ford and Moore made the logical next step: They recorded a full album. Kurtis Blow’s self-titled 1980 debut was the first major-label rap album, and arguably the first-ever rap album of note. Ford and Moore produced the whole thing, teaming with Blow to bring in musicians like pianist Denzil Miller, Ford’s longtime friend Larry Smith (who would go on to glory with Run-DMC), and guitar virtuoso Eddie Martinez. They included material that was both comic (“Way Out West”) and serious (“Hard Times”)—even convincing Kurtis to croon a ballad and rock his way through a cover of “Takin’ Care of Business.”
They also showed us “The Breaks.” The 1980 single took inspiration musically from Steely Dan’s “The Royal Scam” and philosophically from comic Eddie Lawrence’s bit “The Old Philosopher.” In true hip-hop fashion, Ford, Moore, and company took those disparate influences and came up with something completely new—resulting in a track that is still one of rap’s most iconic. Ford and Moore would go on to work with Full Force and even teach Rodney Dangerfield and Tom Hanks how to rap. But it was in the variety—musical and lyrical—of Kurtis Blow that they had their biggest impact, letting the world know that this new rapping thing was worthy of a full album.
HONORABLE MENTIONS: Ann and Paul Winley/Harlem Underground Band, Bobby Robinson, Pumpkin Paul Winley’s Winley Records had been around for decades, but it got new life in the 1970s by releasing funky records from the Harlem Underground Band, as well as a series of Malcolm X speeches. Naturally, Paul’s daughter Tanya turned to rap. Her 1980 track “Vicious Rap” was one of the first notable examples of rap getting political, with Tanya decrying high taxes and police repression. Tanya’s sister Ann is credited as producer on the record, just as she is on Winley Records’ other contribution to hip-hop that year: Afrika Bambaataa’s “Zulu Nation Throw Down.” Bobby Robinson is named as the producer on a series of influential rap songs his label Enjoy put out in 1980 by Treacherous Three, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, and Disco Four. But the core talent behind those innovative records was Errol Eduardo Bedward. Bedward, better known as Pumpkin, was a drummer and bandleader who would hire musicians, arrange tracks, and even lead late-night sessions while Robinson (who was busy running a record store during the day) was often sacked out on the couch. Credit is due to both Robinson for securing studio time, finding rappers, and trusting in a then-teenage Pumpkin, and to Pumpkin himself for helping lead rap in a new sonic direction. —Shawn Setaro
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CREDENTIALS: “Feel the Heartbeat” (Treacherous Three)' “Do It, Do It” (Disco Four); and every other release from Bobby Robinson’s Enjoy Records that year
Funky drummer/musician/arranger/bandleader Errol “Pumpkin” Bedward was Enjoy Records’ not-so-secret weapon, crowned King of the Beat before anyone saw Kurtis Mantronik’s name on wax. Everyone—Treacherous Three, Spoonie Gee, Funky Four Plus One, Kool Kyle the Starchild, and Disco Four—benefited from Pumpkin’s innate funkiness and mastery of the pocket. No less an authority than Living Colour drummer Will Calhoun doesn’t mince words when talking about Pumpkin: He was “the sole creator of hip-hop and rap as a serious artform.”
Pumpkin was, like hip-hop itself, born in the Bronx. He started playing drums early, and showed so much promise that folks in his neighborhood went out and bought him a kit. He began working with Bobby Robinson’s Enjoy label when he was just 16, earning what must have seemed an astronomical fee of $600 per session.
It didn’t take Pumpkin long to figure out the drum machine, as well. Once he did, his services were in demand by three of the leading rap labels of the day: Enjoy, Profile, and Tuff City. He was so busy that he often resorted to being credited under pseudonyms like the gee-who-could-this-be “Jack O Lantern” or the hilarious “Oliver Shalom.” Bobby Robinson was able to challenge Sugar Hill as the premier rap label during the early ‘80s thanks in large part to Pumpkin’s success in the studio creating a sound that made B-boys and B-girls lose their minds.
In 1981, Bobby Robinson was credited as the producer of Treacherous Three’s “Feel the Heartbeat,” but it was Pumpkin and his studio mates who crafted the record’s sound, giving life to what could have been a by-the-numbers replay of Taana Gardner’s “Heartbeat.” A pulsing beat drives one of the most enduring rap recordings ever made, and Pumpkin was unquestionably the heartbeat behind the song, as well as countless others during the earliest days of rap on wax. If you listen to the infectious “Do It, Do It” by Disco Four or the floor-filler “It’s Rockin’ Time” by Kool Kyle the Starchild from that same year, it’s clear just how tight the bands Pumpkin directed were (and how versatile he was as a musician).
Within just a few years, Pumpkin would sign a $12,000 contract with Profile. That amount may seem paltry now, but in 1983 it surely bought him plenty of his beloved monogrammed shirts. But by 1987 or so, following some shady business deals, Pumpkin was burned out on rap. He kept on playing, though, and died in 1992, shortly after finishing some gigs in Japan.
HONORABLE MENTIONS: Jiggs Chase/Jigsaw Productions, Jonzun Crew, Arthur Baker
Clifton “Jiggs” Chase is a musician, arranger, songwriter, and producer who was employed by Sugar Hill Records in the ‘80s. If you know classics like Sugarhill Gang’s “Apache,” Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five’s “It’s Nasty,” Spoonie Gee’s “Spoonie Is Back,” or Crash Crew’s “We Want To Rock,” you’ve heard his work behind the boards. Speaking of Sugar Hill Records, the Jonzun Crew produced rap records for them, too, in addition to making funk, soul, and disco for various labels. The group is responsible for Sugarhill Gang and the Furious Five’s “Showdown” and Brother to Brother’s “Monster Jam.” They also co-produced (without credit) Sequence’s “Funky Sound (Tear the Roof Off)” with Chase. Arthur Baker, for his part, would make waves in 1981 with Afrika Bambaataa and the Jazzy 5’s “Jazzy Sensation,” a hip-hop version of the Gwen McCrae floor filler “Funky Sensation.” The track’s “Bronx Version” was arguably the song of the year, as much for Baker’s infectious bass-driven track as for the oft-sampled “The ladies! The ladies!” chants. Bambaataa has since had his legacy tarnished by horrific sexual abuse allegations, but Arthur Baker’s contributions to “Jazzy Sensation” still ring out as strong as ever. —Dart Adams
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CREDENTIALS: “Planet Rock” (Afrika Bambaataa and the Soulsonic Force)
By his own admission, Arthur Baker was a “shit DJ” who “wanted to make music” when he began his career. By the time he left Boston for New York in 1981, though, he had a series of disco records under his belt. The following year, Baker put his mark on hip-hop in the form of “Planet Rock,” a song he produced for Afrika Bambaataa and the Soulsonic Force. The track—which saw the Universal Zulu Nation founder urging listeners to the dance floor over an unrelenting, explosive beat—has roots that go back as early as 1980, when Baker met Bambaataa through Tommy Boy Records founder Tom Silverman. Borrowing from Kraftwerk’s “Trans-Europe Express” and “Numbers,” Baker pioneered sampling before samplers were commonplace, and helped craft what later became known as electro in the process.
Not only did “Planet Rock” solidify Bambaataa’s move from tastemaking DJ to legit star (which lasted until sexual abuse allegations became public in 2016) and ensure the survival of what would become one of hip-hop’s most influential independent labels, it also set the stage for everything that came afterwards. It is, as fellow producer Rick Rubin later put it, “One of the most influential songs of anything. It changed the world.”
One reason the song has had such a pull on everyone from Rubin to today’s trap sensations is mechanical. The sound of “Planet Rock” came from the then-new Roland TR-808 drum machine. In Baker’s own words, it was “one of the first 808 records.” The machine, which flopped initially, had a distinct sound that, once “Planet Rock” hit, would spread across the world. It was “Planet Rock” that got Egyptian Lover to pick up an 808 and begin the L.A. electro-funk wave that gave us Ice-T and NWA, creating Miami bass along the way. You can trace a direct line from the track’s programmed hi-hats and booming kick to the trap drums of today.
That sound colored much of Baker’s other work at the time. With ties to Boston intact, he executive produced and mixed New Edition’s “Candy Girl” in 1982, alongside Maurice Starr. Offering a lighter take on Baker’s production style, the song helped launch the careers of the five teen singers and indirectly opened the door for five more. Not bad for a shit DJ.
HONORABLE MENTIONS: Jonzun Crew, Pumpkin, Jiggs Chase Michael Jonzun and his brothers, including Maurice Starr, were extremely influential during an era in which electro-funk and rap hadn't quite separated yet. Their 1982 hit “Pak Man (Look Out for the OVC)” set the stage for the group to be signed to Tommy Boy and release a debut album the following year—kickstarting one of rap's most important independent labels. As mentioned above, 1982 was also the year Maurice produced “Candy Girl” for some kids in his neighborhood who thought of themselves as the “new edition” of the Jackson Five. Pumpkin spent 1982 producing songs for groups like Masterdon Committee and Fearless Four. His main accomplishment that year was “Rockin’ It” by the latter artists—a track that took notes from a Kraftwerk tune and turned them into a riff sampled by basically everyone. And in a year of iconic rap songs, Jiggs Chase might have everyone beat. He produced Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five’s “The Message,” a perennial winner in best-rap-song-of-all-time polls. Special notice should also be made for Duke Bootee, who co-wrote, co-produced, and performed the song, alongside Sylvia Robinson. —Shawn Setaro and Lucas Wisenthal
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CREDENTIALS: “It’s Like That”/“Sucker M.C.’s” and “Hard Times”/“Jam Master Jay” (Run-DMC); “Money (Dollar Bill Y’all)” (Jimmy Spicer); “You’ve Gotta Believe” (Lovebug Starski)
Larry Smith may have had a better 1983 than anyone outside of Michael Jackson and Prince. By that year, Smith was already a veteran musician who knew his way around the studio, and was the driving force in the band Orange Krush, who would later serve as the backing group on the first two Run-DMC albums. Russell Simmons (who in more recent years faced accusations of sexual misconduct) knew what Smith was capable of, having seen him tear up the bass on “Christmas Rappin’” for Simmons’ college pal and management client Kurtis Blow. So when Simmons’ brother and his group needed tunes, Smith was in the mix.
A pair of Smith’s Run-DMC singles contained two of the most iconic rap records of the year, which helped create the first generational divide in rap. The stripped-down drum programming on “Sucker M.C.’s” and the powerful “It’s Like That” were inescapable when they hit store shelves, late-night rap shows, and college radio. The former’s beat, made on the Oberheim DMX, was so powerful that it once made its creator grab his own nuts in public. To get a glimpse of the song’s impact, look at how often people bite interpolate its opening lines. Or note that Marley Marl’s very first production was an answer track.
Smith’s beats would go on to influence Rick Rubin, the Bomb Squad (“The Bomb Squad was trying to make hard Larry Smith records,” DMC said years later), and basically everyone else who followed in his wake. Smith’s bare-bones, drum machine-heavy records were the result of economics as much as aesthetics. “If I had had the budget, I would have hired live performers on the whole first Run-DMC album,” he said, looking back. But no matter the reason, the impact was historic.
Creating a whole new generation of rappers wasn’t enough for Smith to accomplish in ‘83. His versatility as a producer was reflected in credits with artists like Jimmy Spicer (“Money [Dollar Bill Y’all]”) and Lovebug Starski (“You’ve Gotta Believe”)—while his work on Rodney Dangerfield’s hit “Rappin’ Rodney”highlighted just how in demand he was during those 12 months. The following year, he helped turn rap into a more mature, album-oriented genre with his work with Whodini. Sadly, the sampling era would soon make Smith’s reliance on instruments and musicianship passé, and by the end of his life he was “languishing” in a nursing home.
HONORABLE MENTIONS: Jean-Michel Basquiat and Al Diaz, Kurtis Blow, Arthur Baker
When he wasn't creating iconic pieces of visual art, Jean-Michel Basquiat found time to earn production credits alongside Al Diaz on Rammellzee vs. K-Rob’s hit “Beat Bop,” a wild 10-minute track that brings instruments in and out of the mix (and adds and removes heavy reverb to the vocals) seemingly at random. Meanwhile, Kurtis Blow produced Sweet G’s “Games People Play” (one of the first rap songs to use Isaac Hayes’ soon-to-be-ubiquitous piano from “Ike’s Mood I”) and Gigolette’s pop-leaning answer record “Games Females Play.” He also helmed Fearless Four’s drum machine-heavy “Problems of the World” with Mr. Magic and the aforementioned “You’ve Gotta Believe” with Larry Smith. 808 innovator Arthur Baker cranked out multiple hits for his label Streetwise with New Edition, as well as club favorites like New Order’s “Confusion.” He was also behind Afrika Bambaataa and the Soulsonic Force’s futuristic electro-funk classics “Looking for the Perfect Beat” and “Renegades of Funk”—the latter a track so ahead of its time that no one blinked when Rage Against the Machine covered it nearly two decades later. —Dart Adams
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CREDENTIALS: “Friends,” “Freaks Come Out at Night” (Whodini); Run-DMC (Run-DMC)
After a dominant year in 1983 producing breakthrough tracks for Run-DMC, Larry Smith carried his momentum into the new year on the group’s self-titled debut. Alongside Russell Simmons, he developed a dense series of tracks that shifted hip-hop’s sound yet again. Instead of the light, funky stylings popular in the early days of the genre (think Furious Five) Smith went to work freaking a drum machine like no one had before, resulting in a more aggressive form of hip-hop.
The work he produced for Run-DMC, as revolutionary as it was, only revealed one side of Smith, however. His songs with Whodini introduced listeners to a mix of hard-hitting bottom lines and just-under-the-surface aural accoutrements. His beats on their Escape album were complex enough to stand alone during breaks between verses, yet straightforward enough that vocals were never overpowered. Two of Whodini’s best-known tracks, “Friends” and “Freaks Come Out at Night,” demonstrated the elastic campiness that wriggled freely throughout ‘80s pop culture.
Smith’s ability to flip from a hardened new-school style with Run-DMC to more unbuttoned sounds with Whodini reflected his mastery of the craft, and the commercial success of each record illustrated just how far he took hip-hop production during his run.
HONORABLE MENTIONS: Kurtis Blow, Aaron Fuchs, Full Force
Kurtis Blow was on fire in 1984. He collaborated with everyone from Dr. Jeckyll & Mr. Hyde to Lovebug Starski, but it was his production work for the Fat Boys that pushed him ahead of a growing crowd of beatmakers. Blow’s genuine sense of musicality gave the group room to explore new territory as they rapped and beatboxed over his drums. Aaron Fuchs is a controversial figure, respected and hated in near equal measure, mostly for his music publishing moves. But whatever you think of Fuchs, you can’t deny that he had one hell of a 1984 (thanks in no small part to help from our old friend Pumpkin, who was a driving force for much of Fuchs’ label Tuff City’s music in this period). Helming classic songs for Davy DMX, Fearless Four, and Cold Crush Brothers, Fuchs wasn’t afraid of throwing some good old-fashioned guitar riffs into his beats, making for compelling foundations that both challenged and supported his vocal counterparts. Full Force’s 1984 is cemented on this list because of one song: “Roxanne, Roxanne.” The track helped ignite one of the earliest rap beefs, the Roxanne Wars, which launched young Roxanne Shanté directly into her now-biopic’d career. —Kiana Fitzgerald
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CREDENTIALS: King of Rock (Run-DMC); Radio (LL Cool J)
The producer credit at the top left corner on the back of LL Cool J’s debut LP reads, “REDUCED BY RICK RUBIN.” It’s a play on words meant to emphasize Rubin’s signature style of stripping a beat down to its most basic elements. Along with Run-DMC’s King of Rock, LL’s Radio would usher in a new era of rap and rudely show the previous generation the door.
Radio was the product of young and hungry guys—LL had dropped out of Andrew Jackson High School in Queens to record it and Rubin, producing his first full-length record, was just 22 years old. He already had hip-hop bona fides, having co-produced T La Rock’s “It’s Yours” the previous year, along with LL’s debut single, “I Need A Beat,” but Radio represented something different.
Hip-hop had started out as an art form consisting primarily of singles, most notably Sugar Hill Records’ sky-blue releases. Def Jam, founded by Rubin and budding impresario Russell Simmons, started off with singles as well. But like the artists themselves, the genre had greater ambitions. On “Rock the Bells,” Radio’s in-your-face single, LL ran through names of artists he was ready to replace, including Bruce Springsteen, Madonna, Michael Jackson, and Prince. To do that, you needed albums, not just singles.
Coming from a rock background, this was only natural for Rubin. Radio was put together as a coherent project, from the massive boom box on the cover to the lead track, “I Can’t Live Without My Radio.” It made LL a worldwide star and Rubin one of hip-hop’s hottest producers. It was an album that would foreshadow all that Rubin was to do with that stripped-down sound, from the stark speed metal of Slayer’s Reign in Blood to the Beastie Boys’ rock-sample-rich Licensed to Ill to the radically reduced sound of Johnny Cash’s late-career opuses.
Rubin’s work with the Beastie Boys, which would peak the following year, seems inevitable in hindsight. The producer, just a few years older than the Boys themselves, must have seen a little of himself in the would-be punks, and in them a chance to elevate a band of pranksters to heights his own bands could have only imagined. That elevation started in ‘85, with the singles “She’s on It” and “Slow and Low”—the former kicking off with a raw guitar riff that gives way to booming drums. The best, of course, was yet to come.
HONORABLE MENTIONS: Marley Marl, Kurtis Mantronik, Full Force Given how young hip-hop was in 1985, there was room for innovation from all sides. As Rubin found ways to pair rock guitar fury with drum machine boom bap, a Queensbridge producer named Marley Marl was pioneering sampling. And Graham el Khaleel, aka Kurtis Mantronik, was creating his own electro-funk sounds and releasing Mantronix: The Album. Meanwhile, Full Force was producing funky, electronic hits for themselves, Lisa Lisa & Cult Jam, UTFO, and the Real Roxanne—early highlights in a career that would see their members working with Samantha Fox, the Backstreet Boys, James Brown, the Black Eyed Peas, and even a young Nicki Minaj.—Russ Bengtson
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CREDENTIALS: Licensed to Ill (Beastie Boys); Raising Hell (Run-DMC)
Rick Rubin's 1986 can be summed up in three albums, any of which would have made a producer’s career, let alone year. Following the success of LL Cool J’s Radio, Rubin’s sound was en vogue and in demand, and his (and Russell Simmons’) Def Jam imprint was to the latter half of the ‘80s what Sylvia Robinson’s Sugar Hill Records was to the first half.
It seemed inevitable that Rubin would produce a Run-DMC record. Their hard-hitting sound, birthed on the eponymous 1984 debut and expanded upon on 1985’s King of Rock, mirrored what Rubin did on Radio. The result of their collaboration, 1986’s Raising Hell, cemented Run-DMC and Rubin as rap legends, brought ‘70s rock heroes Aerosmith back from the dead, and propelled hip-hop itself into the wider public consciousness.
“Walk This Way” is what everyone remembers. It’s the rock/rap pairing to begin and end all rock/rap pairings, with the oft-played video featuring Aerosmith lead singer Steven Tyler literally breaking down the wall separating the two groups. But rock guitars are strewn all over Raising Hell, pushing Run-DMC to new heights and into the bedrooms of suburban teenagers across the world. In Long Island, a young MC named Chuck D heard it and vowed to sign with Def Jam. His group, Public Enemy, would help hip-hop take another huge step a few short years later.
In November, the Beastie Boys released their debut, Licensed to Ill. And while the oft-misogynistic frat boy lyrics wouldn’t age particularly well, Rubin’s production—which swiped huge chunks of riffage from the likes of Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, and AC/DC—certainly has. Their 1989 follow-up, the Dust Brothers-helmed Paul’s Boutique, has become the more critically acclaimed release, but Licensed to Ill is equally unreproducible, as the Zeppelin riffs alone would have cost millions. As on Radio, it’s Rubin’s drums that drive the ship, with riffs merely setting the tone and providing a recognizable frame of reference.
Slayer’s Reign in Blood came out in October, and at just under 29 minutes it was almost an EP. Rubin, who produced it, refined their sound even further, stripping it down to its basest elements and producing what was essentially a speed metal suite, one song blending into the next in a relentless assault from the opening of “Angel of Death” to the conclusion of “Raining Blood.” By removing all that was unnecessary, Rubin reduced Slayer to their purest form and clearest sound, creating a metal classic that, 30 years on, remains the signature accomplishment of the genre. Slayer’s groove found its way onto hip-hop records including the Beasties’ “No Sleep Till Brooklyn” (which had guitar provided by the band’s Kerry King)—when the Bomb Squad needed a metal riff to help propel PE’s “She Watch Channel Zero?!,” they cribbed one from “Angel of Death.”
HONORABLE MENTIONS: Teddy Riley, Marley Marl, Daddy-O/DBC/Stetsasonic
A teenage Teddy Riley produced Kool Moe Dee’s “Go See the Doctor” in 1986, a mere prologue to a career that would see him introduce new jack swing to the lexicon. Marley Marl was still pushing things forward in QB, producing classics as disparate as Biz Markie’s “Make the Music With Your Mouth, Biz” and Kool G. Rap & DJ Polo’s “It’s a Demo.” And in Brooklyn, Stetsasonic was bringing the whole band dynamic to hip-hop, a movement that would eventually lead to the likes of the Roots. —Russ Bengston
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CREDENTIALS: Criminal Minded (Boogie Down Productions); “Funky” (Ultramagnetic MC’s)
A year before the Ultramagnetic MC’s and their debut studio album, Critical Beatdown, inspired the production on Public Enemy’s It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back, the group’s maestro, Cedric “Ced Gee” Miller, pushed hip-hop sonics to new heights. The former South Bronx DJ revolutionized the art of record sampling by excising specific chunks from the finest soul records and turning them into fresh rhythms—somehow using the limitations of the SP-1200 sampler to infuse his production with a sense of freedom. Listen past the minimalism of Ultramag’s “Funky” and ingest the marble cake of subtle arrangements; hear the drums’ pugilism on “Ego Trippin’.”
It’s what Ced chopped as much as the manner in which he chopped it that made him special. It didn’t matter whether he pinched an ad-lib grunt, hits from a brass section, or the beloved “Impeach the President”—the loan would eventually support the soundbed of a classic. In 1987, his crowning achievement was Boogie Down Productions’ now-enshrined debut album, Criminal Minded, which, thanks largely to Ced’s consummate funk cook-up, boasts KRS-One’s most menacing triumphs. “Criminal Minded” and “South Bronx” made history in ’87, but their DNA can be traced years prior: Ced grafted the latter’s skeleton from James Brown’s prize “Get Up Offa That Thing” and supplied Trouble Funk’s “Let’s Get Small” for the former’s heartbeat. The infectious rigidity of “The Bridge Is Over” must be remembered, as well.
Ced not only helped introduce BDP to 500,000 rap fans by scoring the knockouts of one of the 20th century’s greatest rap battles, the Bridge Wars, he also inspired approaching greats like the Bomb Squad, Eazy-E, and Dr. Dre—helping establish the sound of hip-hop’s first golden age.
HONORABLE MENTIONS: Marley Marl, Hurby “Luv Bug” Azor, DJ Eddie F
A clear runner-up for 1987 is now-legendary instigator Marley Marl. A year before the Juice Crew founder earned his crown by giving hip-hop “The Symphony” and debut albums by Big Daddy Kane and Biz Markie, he was the man behind Heavy D’s street breakout hit “The Overweight Lover’s in the House” and Kool G Rap’s B-side PSA “Rikers Island.” Most significantly, he was a contributor to one of the decade’s greatest rap albums, Eric B & Rakim’s Paid In Full. While the Roxanne Wars were running out of steam, Hurby “Luv Bug” Azor saw an opportunity to season the gender beef with Salt-N-Pepa. Powered by broad ears, the Haitian Brooklynite gave us tracks that were as fresh as they were refreshing—most notably, “Push It.” Meanwhile, up in Mount Vernon, Heavy D’s DJ Eddie F was coming into his own as the soon-to-be “untouchable” composer manned the lion’s share of the production on Heav’s debut, Livin’ Large. —Bonsu Thompson
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CREDENTIALS: In Control, Volume 1 (Marley Marl); Goin’ Off (Biz Markie); Long Live the Kane (Big Daddy Kane); Born to Be Wild (MC Shan); “Poison” (Kool G. Rap & DJ Polo)
Marley Marl, according to legend, accidentally discovered sampling circa 1985 while working on a Captain Rock remix. But unlike many inventors, he actually managed to harness the power of his creation and use it to its fullest potential.
It was in 1988 that Marley was feeling the most intense pressure due to the state of the world. “‘88—you gotta look at the atmosphere, the climate,” he told NPR years later. “It was, like, do or die, because crack was rampant. Nighttime was Night of the Living Dead. So you really had to—if you wasn't going to do it, if you wasn't going to be over here, you was gonna be over there.” And do it Marley definitely did. When the words “Golden Age hip-hop” are spoken, what comes most immediately to mind is Marley’s sound: samples that mined every inch of the James Brown catalog, of course, but also used Joe Tex, Otis Redding, Isaac Hayes, and pretty much all of 1960s and ’70s soul music as its canvas.
“Hearing Marley Marl’s output circa ’86-’89 was an experience the impact of which was akin to discovering aural electricity every couple of weeks, one five-minute serving at a time,” wrote Ego Trip’s Chairman Mao. And hearing Marley’s output in 1988 was to get the heaviest voltage of all. That year, Marley produced Goin’ Off for Biz Markie, Long Live the Kane for Big Daddy Kane, Born to Be Wild for MC Shan, “Poison” and “Butcher Shop” for Kool G. Rap & DJ Polo, and “Go on Girl” for Roxanne Shanté—along with, of all things, a bangin’ Paula Abdul remix. Marley brought his spark to each project: providing backing tracks powerful enough to match up with Kane’s smooth boasts; making sure that even Biz’s goofy songs like “Pickin’ Boogers” had beats classic enough to ensure they’d move out of Weird Al territory and hold up to repeat listenings; giving Shan his own, saxophone-heavy spin on the Juice Crew sound.
That alone would be enough to walk away with the year. But we’re not done. 1988 was also the year that Marley released his compilation album In Control, Volume 1, which featured Juice Crew artists and affiliates like Craig G, Masta Ace, Biz, and Heavy D—as well as, for some reason now lost to time, Roxanne Shanté dissing Salt-N-Pepa for “Push It.” Marley’s production is top-notch throughout, but there’s also the little matter of “The Symphony.” The song is arguably the greatest rap posse cut of all time, and Marley’s genius idea of mashing up Otis’ “Hard to Handle” with a classic breakbeat is no small part of the reason why. When you add that accomplishment to everything else, it becomes clear that, even in the year of Nation of Millions, The Great Adventures of Slick Rick, Straight Outta Compton, Critical Beatdown, and Strictly Business, the production god of QB stands supreme.
HONORABLE MENTIONS: DJ Mark the 45 King, The Bomb Squad, Paul C
Long before he produced “Hard Knock Life (Ghetto Anthem)” for JAY-Z and “Stan” for Eminem, 45 King was one of the most innovative and funkiest producers of the late ‘80s. In 1988, he released his excellent solo album Master of the Game, but he made his biggest impact as producer for the Flavor Unit crew. Also in 1988, Dana Owens, renamed Queen Latifah, teamed up with the 45 King to release her first single, “Wrath of My Madness,” thus sparking the career of one of the genre’s biggest stars. At the same time, the Bomb Squad produced one of rap’s greatest albums, Public Enemy’s It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back. And they did it while creating an entirely new approach to sound—one complicated and dense enough to have inspired entire seminars. As for Paul C, a penchant for ghost production and an early death means we may never know the full extent of his influence (though I suggest starting here to get an idea). But we know for sure that he produced “Give the Drummer Some”by the Ultramagnetic MC’s, which Pete Rock praised as having “the illest drums I ever heard.” He would also mentor Large Professor, shape the music of Organized Konfusion, work on most of Eric B. & Rakim’s Let the Rhythm Hit ’Em, and influence a generation of beatmakers before his untimely murder in July 1989. —Shawn Setaro
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CREDENTIALS: 3 Feet High and Rising (De La Soul)
On 1991’s Derelicts of Dialect, one bar before declaring that, yes, it was merely “3rd Bass givin’ y’all the herbals,” Pete Nice offered a disclaimer: “This ain’t a Prince Paul loop from the Turtles.” The line referred to “Transmitting Live From Mars,” an interlude from 3 Feet High and Rising, De La Soul’s landmark 1989 debut. The song saw Paul borrow from the Turtles’ “You Showed Me.” A legal battle ensued, and De La reportedly settled for a figure as high as $1.7 million, establishing a precedent that changed sampling practices in hip-hop.
But not before 3 Feet could alter the course of hip-hop itself. Paul—who also produced songs including 3rd Bass’ “The Gas Face” and Big Daddy Kane’s “It’s a Big Daddy Thing” that year—helmed the album alongside De La. The one-time Stetsasonic DJ built it around the conceit of a game show. The disc began in earnest with “The Magic Number,” which saw the group interpolate Bob Dorough’s ode to the number three from Schoolhouse Rock! A series of unlikely samples, meticulously chosen and carefully placed, appeared through 3 Feet’s 24 tracks, as the trio rapped about their prowess on the mic, social ills, heartbreak, and the perils of putting on dookie-rope chains without first showering in the morning.
While the group helped usher in the era of Afrocentrism in rap, hits like “Me Myself and I” and a flower-power-inspired album cover led to Arsenio Hall calling them “the hippies of hip-hop.” Some 29 years later, the release that saddled them with that misguided title—a record that influenced classics as far-ranging as KMD’s Mr. Hood and the Wu-Tang Clan’s Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers)—remains absent from all streaming services. Prince Paul’s work may have embodied the “D.A.I.S.Y. Age,” but the samples that carried it are apparently too troublesome to clear for the digital one.
HONORABLE MENTIONS: Dust Brothers, Howie Tee, DJ Mark the 45 King In 1989, the post-Def Jam Beastie Boys distanced themselves from Rick Rubin’s guitar-heavy sound with the Dust Brothers. Using classic funk and rock samples, the Los Angeles production duo laid the groundwork for Paul’s Boutique, the album that helped Ad-Rock, Mike D, and MCA transcend the frat-boy stigma of its predecessor. Howie Tee, meanwhile, produced Chubb Rock’s And the Winner Is…, which gave us the single “Ya Bad Chubb,” along with Special Ed’s criminally underrated debut LP, whose beats (potato ‘n’ alligator soufflé and all) hold up amazingly well to this day. The 45 King had a prolific year, producing the majority of All Hail the Queen, Queen Latifah’s debut, as well as tracks for Gang Starr, Chill Rob G, and more. He was so hot that year that even an X-Clan song in which he’s credited only with “mix and extra beats” is absolute fire. —Lucas Wisenthal
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CREDENTIALS: Fear of a Black Planet (Public Enemy); Amerikkka’s Most Wanted (Ice Cube)
When Ice Cube left N.W.A in a huff in 1989, he was considered by many to be dead in the water. One major problem was that he had no one to produce his solo debut. Dr. Dre wasn’t available, so Cube consulted his friend Chuck D, who he’d met on tour. At first, Chuck didn’t want to get in the middle of the increasingly caustic N.W.A dispute, which would later escalate to diss tracks like “No Vaseline.” But when Cube visited New York in early 1990, Chuck invited him to a recording session for Public Enemy’s new album, Fear of a Black Planet, the group’s follow-up to their landmark It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back. And who was behind the boards? The Bomb Squad.
The Long Island-based team—Chuck D, Eric Sadler, and brothers Hank and Keith Shocklee—was in the midst of tearing up hip-hop and refashioning it from scratch. They were at peak powers in 1990: Fear of a Black Planet featured Cube on “Burn Hollywood Burn,” as well as another hour’s worth of chaotic, sample-laden, pastiche rap music that sounds as urgent now as it did then. But Cube and the Bomb Squad were just getting started. Barely a month after Planet, in May 1990, Cube released his solo debut, Amerikkka’s Most Wanted, an out-of-nowhere hit and critical success that managed to vault him past N.W.A.
The Bomb Squad get much of the credit for that success. In contrast to the current era—in which rappers and producers often collaborate electronically rather than meeting face to face—Amerikkka was created after the Bomb Squad essentially locked Cube in their Long Island record room and told him not to come out until he’d found his album. Led by Sadler, they proceeded to dissect the LPs he’d chosen. The result is an undeniable classic that’s as much Bomb Squad as Cube, as much East Coast as West Coast.
The Bomb Squad’s 1990 output also includes contributions to Bell Biv DeVoe’s Poison and the debut singles by Son of Bazerk and the Young Black Teenagers. “I have always tried to communicate rebellion,” Hank Shocklee told journalist Brian Coleman, but the Bomb Squad could also start a party, as anyone who’s heard “B.B.D. (I Thought It Was Me)?” can attest.
HONORABLE MENTIONS: Sir Jinx, Tony D, Large Professor A childhood friend who grew up two doors down from Cube, Sir Jinx was brought in during Amerikkka’s production process to ensure a West Coast flavor, and he became a formative part of Cube’s following works Kill at Will (also released in 1990) and Death Certificate. Across the country, the Golden Age marched on, as exemplified by producer (and sometimes rapper) Tony D, who put together most of fellow New Jersey act Poor Righteous Teachers’ 1990 debut, Holy Intellect, as well as YZ’s Sons of the Father. Meanwhile, Large Professor’s nascent career was starting with a bang via his work on Eric B. & Rakim’s 1990 album Let the Rhythm Hit ‘Em and Kool G. Rap & DJ Polo’s Wanted: Dead or Alive before his group, Main Source, changed the game with its Breaking Atoms debut a year later. —Ben Westhoff
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CREDENTIALS: Quik Is the Name (DJ Quik); Bitch Betta Have My Money (AMG); Skanless (Hi-C); 2nd II None (2nd II None)
In 1991, DJ Quik had one goal for his debut album, Quik Is the Name: “I just wanted to sell 10,000 copies so I could get a Jetta.” By the end of that year, he had accomplished a whole hell of a lot more.
Dr. Dre may have been largely responsible for putting L.A. rap on the map in the late ’80s, but DJ Quik was the man who made it fun. Quik, working closely with AMG, Hi-C, and the group 2nd II None, had a major hand in four albums in 1991. The combined impact would shift the sound of hip-hop forever. “Quik Is the Name introduced a new sound and style of gangster rap: a largely relaxed and feel-good one in which the protagonist focused as much on women, getting intoxicated, and having fun as he did on telling tales about the perils of life growing up in the gang-infested Los Angeles metropolitan area,” writes Soren Baker in his aptly titled book, The History of Gangster Rap.
The other three albums Quik worked on that year—AMG’s Bitch Betta Have My Money, Hi-C’s Skanless, and 2nd II None’s eponymous debut—fit in that same vein. They run the gamut from reggae to mellow jazz to Stax-style soul to funk, and that’s not to mention the “polka swing” interlude. The samples and arrangements, along with live instruments added by experts like Robert “Fonksta” Bacon and Stan “The Guitar Man” Jones, give Quik’s records a sonic texture different and more layered than the straight loops of the about-to-end Golden Age, even if he was working with a lot of the same raw materials in terms of sample sources.
Quik, everyone knew, was the mastermind. Even Kendrick Lamar, all of three and a half years old when Quik Is the Name came out, became aware of Quik’s multifaceted genius. “As a kid I never looked at Quik as just a rapper,” Lamar told Complex while praising the album. “I knew that he actually did the whole instrumentation behind it.”
Quik’s success would spawn many imitators, but no one had his ear for sound. Even Dre would end up acknowledging Quik’s one-of-a-kind talent by bringing in his Compton neighbor to do extensive work on 2Pac’s All Eyez on Me. Oh, and as for that Jetta? Well, Quik Is the Name sold half a million copies within a few months, so it’s safe to assume that DJ Quik managed to fulfill his automotive dream.
HONORABLE MENTIONS: Kay Gee/Naughty by Nature; Above the Law/Cold 187um; Ant Banks Anyone who was sentient in 1991 knows Naughty by Nature’s “O.P.P.” was a massive, inescapable hit. The song melded the standard “Synthetic Substitution” breakbeat with the Jackson Five’s “A.B.C.” and created something far greater than the sum of its parts. The group’s primary producer, Kay Gee, deserves a large chunk of the credit (or blame) for smuggling rap songs with unprintable acronyms into middle school dances the world over. Meanwhile, Gregory “Big Hutch”/“Cold 187um” Hutchinson was busy inventing the next wave. Hutch and his group Above the Law created the sound of gangster rap in 1991, combining P-Funk grooves with streetwise lyrics on the group’s Vocally Pimpin’ EP and an album they made that year but didn’t get a chance to release until later on, Black Mafia Life. On the other side of California, a producer named Ant was belying his name by doing big things. By that point, he was already a veteran, having put out projects since the mid-’80s. Ant Banks pioneered the sound of Bay Area rap in his work with Spice 1, producing the entirety of Spice’s debut EP, Let It Be Known. The deep bass, funk-inspired guitars, and hard grooves of that project would go on to inspire the majority of hip-hop artists from the region. —Shawn Setaro
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CREDENTIALS: “Deep Cover” and The Chronic (Dr. Dre)
Decades later, many people think of 1992 as Dr. Dre’s peak, but for the majority of the year, he was unemployable and sulking. Only a year before, he had produced N.W.A’s platinum sophomore album, Efil4zaggin, and in the spring of ‘92 he introduced the world to Snoop Doggy Dogg on the title track of Deep Cover. But behind the scenes, Dre and his N.W.A label boss Eazy-E were sparring over money, a situation made much worse after Suge Knight poached Dre.
Eazy-E sued, and as a result no labels (including Sony Records, which released “Deep Cover”) would touch Dre. Finally, a compromise was reached, wherein Eazy would receive a portion of his former collaborator’s sales. Dre was now free to be Dre, and in December 1992 Death Row Records released his masterpiece solo debut, The Chronic. The drama fueled the music, with Dre hurling surprise bombs at Eazy, who hadn’t planned on taking their beef public. The disses weren’t particularly distressing (“Stompin' on the Eazy-est streets that you can walk on”), but the production was pulverizing. Driven by mid-tempo Moog synthesizer beats, The Chronic was simultaneously melodic and hard-edged, and its influence changed the course of hip-hop overnight.
Dr. Dre didn’t invent G-Funk. That honor likely belongs to rapper/producer Cold 187um, who worked closely with Dre while they were both at Ruthless and produced Above the Law’s Black Mafia Life before The Chronic was made (though it was released after). Nonetheless, Dre damn sure perfected the subgenre, with The Chronic’s savvy use of George Clinton samples and the Ohio Players’ high-pitched “Funky Worm” sound. Dre’s stepbrother Warren G also deserves credit for helping create The Chronic’s sonic atmosphere, though he receives none in the album’s liner notes. The album’s other great revelation was Long Beach’s finest, Snoop Dogg, who released his blockbuster debut, Doggystyle, a year later. Dre’s personal life is impossible to defend, with four different women accusing him of beating them, but hip-hop clearly wouldn’t be the same without him.
HONORABLE MENTIONS: Muggs, Pete Rock, Diamond D
One of 1992’s most enduring rap songs is House of Pain’s “Jump Around,” which still gets the kids bouncing to this day. It was a standout moment on producer DJ Muggs’ incredible run (1992 sat right in the middle of Cypress Hill's classic first two albums), a run which also included a little-known gem he made for Ice Cube in 1992 called “Check Yo Self”—perhaps you’ve heard of it? While Dre and Muggs were forging the apocalyptic West Coast sound, Pete Rock was perfecting the peaceable East Coast alternative, reaching an early high-water mark in his career with the jazz-harvesting Mecca and the Soul Brother that he released with collaborator CL Smooth (an album that contains one of the greatest beats of all time). Meanwhile, the Bronx’s Diamond D was creating a body of work in an originalist style with the Diggin’ in the Crates Crew, including his heralded debut, Stunts, Blunts & Hip Hop. —Ben Westhoff
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CREDENTIALS: Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) (Wu-Tang Clan)
When the Wu-Tang Clan arrived on the scene in the early ’90s, they were more than a supergroup. They represented a musical movement that changed how record deals were structured, how rap fans spoke—and, ultimately, how hip-hop sounded. The chief orchestrator of this cultural shift was Robert Diggs. Known as the RZA (f.k.a. Prince Rakeem), he crafted productions that were the backbone of the Clan’s debut opus, Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers).
One of the first voices listeners hear on the album’s opening track is that of RZA on the hook, yelling, “Bring da muthafuckin’ ruckus!” And that’s exactly what he did with 36 Chambers. Full of murky, mechanical beats and soulful samples, spliced with sound bites from classic kung fu flicks, the album was like nothing rap fans had heard before. Created outside of the glossy music industry, it was the direct kick to the nuts that the game needed.
36 Chambers spawned several classic tracks that highlighted the talents of not only the group’s nine MCs, but also the mastermind behind the boards. Lead single “Protect Ya Neck” and its official B-side, “Method Man,” were bare-bones productions that showcased RZA’s less-is-more approach to beatmaking. Meanwhile, gems like “C.R.E.A.M.,” “Tearz,” and “Can It Be All so Simple” exemplified his knack for marrying dirty drum patterns with beautifully chopped-up soul samples. The latter technique planted the seeds for the chipmunk soul era of the 2000s, which is often linked to a brash young rapper/producer from the South Side of Chicago. But even Kanye West acknowledges the fact that RZA had a major influence on his production style. The second golden age of hip-hop is often pegged to 1994, but truthfully it started a year earlier, when the world was introduced to the game-changing sounds of the RZA.
HONORABLE MENTIONS: Q-Tip/A Tribe Called Quest, DJ Premier, Dr. Dre Taking the lead on production duties for A Tribe Called Quest’s Midnight Marauders, Q-Tip was responsible for shaping the project’s brilliant soundscapes. He also managed to produce Apache’s hit “Gangsta Bitch” that year. DJ Premier has been a constant in hip-hop circles for years, consistently pulling strings behind the boards, and he had a standout year in 1993, producing Jeru the Damaja’s iconic “Come Clean,” KRS-One’s “Outta Here,” and the demo version of Nas’ “Represent.” Although Dr. Dre technically dropped The Chronic in December 1992, the album’s music reverberated throughout the following year as his G-funked singles continued to rise up the charts. That was all capped by his classic work on Snoop Doggy Dogg’s seminal debut effort, Doggystyle, which we all know was tha shiznit. —Anslem Samuel Rocque
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CREDENTIALS: “Flava in Ya Ear” (Craig Mack); “Gimme the Loot,” “Warning,” “The What?” (The Notorious B.I.G.)
“What’s that sound?” When Craig Mack’s “Flava in Ya Ear” blew up in the summer of 1994, one of the first questions that listeners asked was about the weird screech/scream that opens the song. For years, the popular rumor was that producer Easy Mo Bee had sampled his girlfriend’s hair dryer, but he later refuted the claim. He now admits that it is a slowed-down sample, but ask what the source is and you’ll likely just get a disarming, toothy grin in response.
Like many aspiring beatmakers of the time, Easy Mo Bee grew up in awe of Marley Marl and his SP-1200 wizardry. By ‘93, Easy ended up working with him at Cold Chillin’ Records, handling a few songs on Big Daddy Kane’s Looks Like a Job For... That same year, a new opportunity opened up at Uptown Records. One of Easy’s childhood friends from Bedford-Stuyvesant’s Lafayette Gardens, radio DJ Mister Cee, brought him over to work with a newly signed rapper out of Brooklyn: the Notorious B.I.G. Their initial collaboration produced Biggie’s debut song, placed on the Who’s the Man? soundtrack, “Party and Bullshit.” Its modest success led to Easy being invited to work on his debut album, Ready to Die.
1994 proved to be a coming-out party for Biggie, manager Sean “Puffy” Combs, Bad Boy Records, and, of course, Easy Mo Bee. While B.I.G. was still finishing Ready to Die, Easy and Craig Mack minted Bad Boy’s first smash hit with “Flava in Ya Ear.” Easy claims to have created the track in his drawers in just 20 minutes, during a morning bedroom session on his SP-1200. With its mystery screech and two-note bopping beat, the song was inescapable during the summer of ‘94, especially after the release of a remix that included bars from Biggie, LL Cool J, Busta Rhymes, and Rampage.
Until that point, Easy’s style carried traces of Marley Marl’s influence, and he admits that “Flava” was an attempt to recreate the feel of Marley’s iconic remix of Craig G’s “Droppin’ Science.” But when listeners got to hear Easy’s half-dozen tracks for Ready to Die, talk of an “Easy Mo Bee sound” began to form. The album is a tale of two production styles. Puffy, Poke, Chucky Thompson, and the Bluez Brothers handled its radio/club-friendly hits like “Juicy,” “One More Chance,” and “Big Poppa.” Then it was up to Easy to keep Biggie tethered to a blacked-out Brooklyn steez: dark, dank, and diabolical.
Like DJ Premier, who came with a key assist on “Unbelievable,” Easy’s production had a propulsive energy, felt in the aggressive swing of songs like “Gimme the Loot” and “The What?” While Primo’s tracks at the time were often sparse and jagged, Easy’s production felt full and weighty, like a riptide’s undertow. There may be no better example of that than “Warning,” where he cooks up a menacing, pulsating beat that (true to the song’s title) portends dread and danger. It’s all built from a deceptively simple one-bar Isaac Hayes loop, but like the red dots that cap the song’s coda, Easy Mo Bee showed how small touches can deliver maximum impact.
HONORABLE MENTIONS: Warren G, Mike Dean, Organized Noize
Long Beach’s Warren G introduced his self-described “G-Funk sound” to the world through hits like “Regulate” and “This DJ.” The subgenre was a reminder that, out west, artists like to roll smooth. In Houston, Rap-A-Lot producer Mike Dean enjoyed a banner year thanks to a slew of hard-hitting funk tracks that landed everywhere from Scarface’s The Diary to Big Mike’s debut album, Somethin’ Serious, to the irreverent stylings of the Odd Squad on Fadanuf Fa Erybody. Atlanta’s rap scene emerged on the strength of the new Organized Noize crew. They couldn’t have asked for a better introduction on the heels of the debut album by a pair of East Point MCs known as OutKast. Not everyone could easily spell Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik, but thanks to Organized Noize, they knew what it sounded like. —Oliver Wang
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CREDENTIALS: Only Built 4 Cuban Linx… (Raekwon); Return to the 36 Chambers: The Dirty Version (Ol’ Dirty Bastard); Liquid Swords (GZA)
After the Wu-Tang Clan exploded onto the scene with Enter The Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) in 1993, RZA moved to phase two of the Wu-Tang plan: infiltrating record labels and spreading the Wu doctrine across a number of projects. With each artist able to sign his own solo deal outside of the Clan, Method Man kicked things off with his RZA-produced 1994 debut Tical—foreshadowing the three RZA-helmed solo albums released during the Wu’s 1995 run.
Raekwon’s Only Built 4 Cuban Linx… was one of the biggest releases of the year. Known to fans as “The Purple Tape” due to the translucent purple cassette it arrived in, the album found Rae establishing his own chamber, which was more closely tailored to Scarface than Five Deadly Venoms. That was no issue for the RZA, who sourced classic crime films like The Killer and Carlito’s Way to provide the glue that connected Rae’s gritty dopeboy tales and mafioso dreams to the Clan. Together, he and Rae cooked up a certified hip-hop classic.
The same can be said of GZA’s Liquid Swords, a captivating puzzle box of philosophy and street tales. Produced entirely by the RZA (save for the CD-only bonus track), the album used sounds plucked from a wide variety of sources, including New Edition, Three Dog Night, and Cannonball Adderley. RZA came up with challenging patterns and rhythms that fit the deep lyricism and coded language that the GZA penned over them. It was closer to Enter the Wu than “The Purple Tape” and provided a perfect representation of what the GZA brought to the squad.
For the RZA’s third trick, he churned out Return to the 36 Chambers: The Dirty Version, the solo debut from his and the GZA’s cousin Ol’ Dirty Bastard. RZA didn’t produce the lead single, “Brooklyn Zoo,” but he did provide the infectious piano twinkle and understated groove of standout “Shimmy Shimmy Ya.” From the subversive melodies of “Raw Hide” to the playful throwback hip-hop of “Cuttin’ Headz,” the RZA got the best out of the Wu’s biggest character.
The Wu mastermind was supremely in demand in 1995, also producing tracks for Cypress Hill (“Throw Your Set in the Air,” “Killa Hill Niggas”), the Batman Forever soundtrack (Method Man’s “The Riddler”), and Shaquille O'Neal (“No Hook”). Basically, anyone who was looking for the sound of New York hip-hop in 1995 had to holler at the RZA.
HONORABLE MENTIONS: Havoc/Mobb Deep, Da Beatminerz, Easy Mo Bee Outside of those crafted by Robert Diggs, a number of 1995’s best rap records were coming from New York-based producers. The year saw the release of Mobb Deep’s The Infamous, which etched the Queensbridge duo into the hip-hop lexicon. The album was primarily produced by Mobb Deep, who helped introduce the world to the grittier side of New York life and what it sounds like; true hip-hop fans remember where they were when cuts like “Shook Ones (Part II)” hit them for the first time. Longtime Duck Down beatsmiths Da Beatminerz were cultivating Smif-N-Wessun’s Dah Shinin’, which birthed backpack anthems like “Sound Bwoy Bureill” and “Wrekonize.” Rounding things out on a smoother tip was Easy Mo Bee, the highly in-demand producer behind legendary material from 2Pac in ‘95 (“Temptations” and Pac’s Notorious B.I.G. collab “Runnin’ From tha Police”) and the massive Panther soundtrack posse cut “The Points,” as well as material from the Lost Boyz, Jamal, LL Cool J, and many, many more. —khal
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CREDENTIALS: ATLiens (OutKast)
Big Boi and André 3000 released their debut album as OutKast with Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik in 1994, but it wasn’t until ‘96 that they became their full-blown ethereal selves. With ATLiens, the duo glo’d up into the extraterrestrial force that they are revered as today and beamed down to settle comfortably in the hip-hop canon. With the assistance of Organized Noize—comprised of Rico Wade, Sleepy Brown, and Ray Murray—they were able to position themselves as an entity to be taken seriously.
Organized Noize had been cooking up beats for years as the leaders of Atlanta’s Dungeon Family, but ATLiens was the moment they became fully focused. With OutKast’s second project, the trio went to work cultivating a lush universe for Big and Dre to lose and then find themse...
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