damn.jpg

I won't lie. I'm not a fan of Kendrick Lamar. I'm not impressed or floored by his voice or mode of delivery or beats. And also, he often does that lazy thing that so many of his peers do these days: chant rapping. So, the announcement that he had won a Pulitzer Prize did nothing for me. I rolled over and went back to sleep. In my opinion, which is rarely humble, hiphop, at the mainstream level, has never recovered from two great injustices: the continued and probably permanent obscurity of Detroit's Slum Village, and LA's Lootpack.

After the Wu-Tang Clan moment (1993-1997), next in line was either Slum Village or the Lootpack—Dilla was at the core of the former and Madlib at the core of the latter. My bet was on the latter. The Lootpack were poised to continue a sequence of LA hiphop innovation that became visible in 1992 with King Tee's introduction of the Alkaholiks in "Got It Bad Y'all" and Bizarre Ride II the Pharcyde (both mainstream hits). But neither the Lootpack or Slum Village really went anywhere beyond cult status among serious headz. And the best rapper of the late '90s, Toronto's Choclair, Nas' obvious heir, was totally missed. At that point—the turn of millennium—hiphop innovation was condemned to the underground. And as far as I can tell (or hear), the spectacular rise of Kendrick Lamar, and particularly his album DAMN., did not mark its return to the mainstream. And for those who were amazed by his To Pimp a Butterfly, I recommend you listen to Digable Planet's 1994 Blowout Comb. The latter will certainly diminish the brilliance of the former.

Anyway, here are five rap tracks from the past that deserve a Pulitzer, and maybe even a Nobel Prize.

Eric B. and Rakim, "Follow Leader"
This is not one of the greatest hiphop records ever made—it is the greatest rap record ever made. The rhymes are in full innovation mode as the beats travel "at magnificent speeds around the universe."

Intelligent Hoodlum, "Grand Groove"
The genius of this rap is found in its conduction of authentic feeling—the existential pain of loss—through a fairly basic line of rhymes.

Nas, "The World Is Yours"
I will never forgive Nas for abandoning the direction he announced in this and other tracks on the masterpiece Illmatic. Never. Ever.

Common, "Heat"
To grasp the greatness of Common's execution on this record, you have to appreciate the way Dilla chopped up and reassembled Tony Allen's "Asiko." This is the type of hi-tech shit you'd expect to come out of that lab in Black Panther.

Queen Latifah, "U.N.I.T.Y."
The days when a rapper could hit the mainstream with a record that denounces sexual assault as well as demand respect and equality for women (thereby actually empower young black women and enlighten young black men) are long gone. Why? Because blacks lost ownership of hiphop. It's now controlled by the tastes of middle-class white consumers, and they will only pay top dollar for rappers who have nothing positive to contribute to their community. Many of these rappers come from deep poverty (broken homes, broken schools, brutal policing) and will, for the opportunity to improve their lot, provide whites with the nasty goods. And then right-wing commentators criticize black rappers for selling the only thing the white-owned market wants from them: negative images of black people. Even Kendrick Lamar is aware of this sad dynamic. Listen to the third part of his track "DNA," which is on his Pulitzer Prize-winning album DAMN.