“INSERT 1990s HIP HOP BOP HERE”:Sonic Happenings and Ethical Listening for 1990s Hip Hop Projects

Jaïra Placide, DeVaughn Harris, Anjelica M. Enaje, Katherine Marin, Nicole Walker and Todd Craig (a collective from the Fall 2022 section of ENGL 89010)

For the duration of the Fall 2022 semester, our CUNY Graduate Center course entitled “‘Stacks, Sounds and a Record a Day’: Hip Hop Literacies, DJ Rhetoric and Sonic Happenings” (ENGL 89010) spent time exploring the tenants and sonics of Hip Hop culture through the act of active listening, encapsulated in an ethics and ethos of listening and empathy. Our goal as a class was to think specifically about the elements of ‘classic album’ designation in Hip Hop. When I created this course, my plan was to explore the elements of curation via the DJ, but most importantly, to engage the idea of an Ethics of Listening. As we progressed through Hip Hop culture’s catalogue, we found ourselves slowed down, acutely attentive to the albums recorded during the 1990s: a time frame that many would label the ‘Golden Era’ of Hip Hop music. As our course collectively tapped the brakes, we began to reflect on what made the sonic culture of the 1990s so lush and dense with introspective and innovative music. As a class, we got stuck in the 1990s because of the explosion and proliferation of quality musical and artistic contributions into what would become a significant part of Hip Hop’s sonic canon.

The Golden Era encompasses the 1990s without question -- whether it inhabits the front, middle, or tail end of your timetable. The plethora of creativity when no one wanted to sound similar, when ideas were abundant, and when the reporting style of Melle Mel on “The Message” led to conversations about the atrocities of our hoods and communities through gritty lyrical sentiments, was ignited in 1990s Hip Hop sonics.^[1] The nuance of these societal and communal circumstances led us to collectively create a “Code of Listening Ethics.” In order to break away from the simplicity of ‘violence, misogyny and drug distribution’ language that Hip Hop lyrics are sometimes minimized to for facile analysis, we reviewed the flip side of the coin, asking the more difficult and troublesome question: What are the social, cultural and political circumstances that allow communities of color (mostly impoverished) to use music as a medium to culturally report on the happenings of their communities that artists may see on a daily basis, but are never on a news channel, and hardly -- if ever -- addressed by politicians and public community leaders? This question led to ideas that required us to think about the following quandaries:

• Why is a particular artist/song/album/sound so popular at a specific time?
• How does a song/ album/ artist rise to the top of the cultural zeitgeist at a specific moment?
• How do you contextualize the themes and messages heard in music?
• What is the background of the artist/group?
• What context do they come out of (socially, culturally, politically, geographically)?
• How is an artist’s content relevant and/or insightful for the time?
• How does it speak to a larger societal context?

As an instructor, these questions had always been baked into my own Hip Hop listening. Most recently, in the “Stuck Off the Realness” podcast, 9^th Wonder described deep listening to music in the 1990s with a straightforward mantra: It was simply “just press play… and listen!”^[2] The 1990s were a time of my own sonic coming of age: My lessons were part 120 (Peace to the Nation of Gods and Earths); part Black History; part cadence, flow and patterns of blistering bars; and part street-corner politics encapsulated in a music, fashion, and culture that made me want to get through school.

These lessons informed my life... and informed this class’s inception, this class that I never thought I’d be teaching during my Golden Era listening. To put it in perspective, in the 1990s, I had to argue with a Sociology professor about the names of two Hip Hop groups: “Poor Righteous Teachers” and “Young Black Teenagers” -- not to be confused with his consistent naming of “Young Poor Righteous Teachers.”

“INSERT 1990s HIP HOP BOP HERE” is a group chapter that aims to capture a collective sonic experience and to reflect on our class thoughts around 1990s Hip Hop projects. After highlighting our group Code of Ethical Listening at the start of the semester, students identified a series of albums in order to highlight our thinking. This class was never about perfect, never about ‘Top Five Dead Or Alive.’ Nor will this be a chapter that gristles with the ‘your generation doesn’t know good music’ sentiment. Instead, this chapter serves as a genuine sonic exploration with ethical listening, keeping in mind the circumstances that allow for the stories in this music to be told. For me, it was nostalgia deluxe: Putting a vast array of albums on a list for students to choose from and listen to (not read about, or wax poetic about from afar). For the class, I like to think it was ‘nostalgia discovered,’ as students selected specific albums that resonated with them for a series of reasons that they chose. It was a conversation with my own sonic life soundtrack, the score to my coming of age, and also my students’ auditory discovery. The conversations around these auditory discoveries created a roadmap for how folks envision the current sonic sentiments of Hip Hop music and culture, but also, how they come to understanding the idea of ‘a classic album’ or the notoriously over-asked question of ‘what’s your top 5…?’

With these ideas in mind, we present this chapter for your reading pleasure. Take this as our offering of those ‘90s bops that had our class rockin’...

When They Reminisce Over You, My God: Why 1990s Hip Hop and Nostalgia Converge for Us

The genre of Hip Hop is connected to history through memory; specifically, nostalgic memory is a rhetorical vehicle that carries past into present and the present into the future. By tapping into real-time memory to create their sound from remnants of their sonic lineage^[3] -- i.e., sampling -- with shout-outs to their collaborators, Hip Hop artists formulate the stories and transport emotion through social contexts in their lyrics, while reaching out to the rest of the Hip Hop community to make artists and listeners aware of how they approach the genre. What follows is our happy nostalgia, the very essence of what made these artists and albums both moving and memorable for our collective.

Hip Hop as a musical genre has seen substantial growth since its inception in the early to mid-1970s. But it was the 1990s that became the threshold for what we would consider ‘old-school’ Hip Hop in the new millennium: gritty, hardcore beats and lyricism that tell the life stories and perspectives of the artists, bringing listeners into spaces unimaginable or relatable (depending on experiential proximity). This chapter is a moment where we recall listening to Hip Hop artists and albums for the first time, and where we consider their impact on the cultural landscape (then and now). After a few initial spins of their albums, it became apparent that their music was more than just sound flowing from our devices to our ears; they marked an era of collective voices that risked refering to themselves and the larger community to which they belonged.

As defined by Wendy Hesford, rhetorical memory understands memory as “a material (embodied) and discursive experience that is ideologically interpellated by prevailing cultural scripts and rhetorical commonplaces.”^[4] Rhetorical memory is also an apparatus for understanding and making meaning from lived experience as well as connecting with other lived experiences through acts of listening. As a rhetorical site, memory is both activated and buttressed by a combination of different rhetorical spaces and practices, such as storytelling.

We ask how rhetorical memory, examined through the lens of nostalgia, works in the music of artists who began or made their mark in the 1990s, such as A Tribe Called Quest (Tribe), The Roots, Queen Latifah, Mary J. Blige, and Wu-Tang Clan.

We can examine the way Tribe approached the genre of Hip Hop in the community-centric way in two of their albums: The Low End Theory (1991) and Midnight Marauders (1993).^[5] The Roots were heavily invested in building community based around a sonic sentiment, which helped them outlast the vast majority of their peers during an individualistic trend in Hip Hop that continues today. In a society that tends to undervalue creative and material support structures, The Roots have succeeded due to their more sophisticated worldview. They value their relationships and always share the stage in the spirit of thoughtful collaboration and sonic elevation. At a time when the accentuated life-size, often oversexed, light-skinned Black Barbie doll aesthetic reigns supreme in contemporary rap pop culture in both visual and sound, one can harken back three decades to find an earlier blueprint of womanhood explicitly centered around Black pride, positivity, and responsibility to self and community in Queen Latifah. Mary J. Blige’s album What’s The 411?^[6] helped people heal themselves of their heart break and moments of love through Mary’s angelic, soulful voice and transparent heartfelt lyrics. Listening to this album could give people security and love, and help them feel less lonely. Mary J. Blige’s groundbreaking musical fusion of Hip Hop and soul creates a spiritual connection to her audience. For the Wu-Tang Clan, what remains is not only the authentic ‘90s Hip Hop vibe, but as the RZA points out in a 2018 radio performance, the message of a “spiritual lyricist mystic” that forewarns Hip Hop’s current obsession with the “dolla dolla bill,” and which offers hope to any hardcore fan that is eager to see the genre return to its roots^[7].

People’s Instinctive Listenings: Thinking Through The Tribe Vibe and Sonics

A Tribe Called Quest’s albums draw on rhetorical practices throughout the Hip Hop genre, such as narrative-based storytelling and verbal recognition of ancestral and contemporary collaborators, to employ memory in a rhetorical manner. The attentive listener of Tribe’s music adheres to an ethic of listening that can transform their position to an active listener -- buttressed by feelings of nostalgia -- and a member of a community that engages the genre through live, rhetorical memory.

Released in 1991, The Low End Theory is a prime example of how memory functioned for the group; from the studio production to the lyrics, the 48-minute-long sophomore album is a holistic shell for the live memory of Hip Hop in the 1990s. Q-Tip, member and primary producer of Tribe, did most of the instrumental production, having produced twelve out of the album’s fourteen tracks.^[8] Most of Q-Tip’s production was due, in large part, to the production method known as sampling. Having sampled various different bass lines and other low-end frequency sounds -- hence the album name, The Low End Theory -- Q-Tip composed most of the album by tapping his memory into the rhetorical commonplace of sound to find what stood out most. Understanding memory as experience enables producers like Q-Tip, and us as listeners, to meaningfully engage with sampling; it allows listeners to peek into the rhetorical function of Hip Hop culture to touch our musical ancestry. Just as the writer exists with their ancestors, contemporaries, and inheritors through the act of citation and quotation, the Hip Hop artist exists with past, present and future community members through the nostalgic act of sampling. Through sampling exists a sonic lineage that we can reach through borrowing a bass line from Ron Carter or a snare pattern from Clyde Stubblefield. The act of sampling -- literally, figuratively, and rhetorically -- connects artists and listeners to the broader Hip Hop community.

The album’s lyrics are explicit showcases of rhetorical memory at work. During the song “Verses from the Abstract,” Q-Tip makes various references to fellow collaborators who contributed to the album’s production. He starts his first verse by saying, “I had a dream about my man last night / And my man came by the studio / And his name is… / Busta Rhymes.”^[9] He continues to refer to different collaborators by stating that they are “in effect” or “in the house,” two popular phrases in Hip Hop rhetoric referring to a person’s / peoples’ presence or relevance; in this case, Q-Tip is referring to people’s involvement in the creation of a song or album. In the original four forms of Hip Hop -- DJing, MCing, B-Boying, and Graffiti (Graf) -- collaborating with fellow community members was always encouraged and fostered, often live. Q-Tip’s affection for those artists and sounds -- i.e., his nostalgia for Hip Hop that came before him -- empowered him to continue a tradition of actively and rhetorically engaging with memory. Bringing both The Low End Theory and Midnight Marauders into scope, the rhetorical implications of narrative-based storytelling and sampling reveal a link between a listener of Hip Hop and the genre’s history.

The third album in Tribe’s discography, Midnight Marauders, is a space wherein the group’s rhetorically rich lyricism thrives through the medium of storytelling. Although using storytelling as a rhetorical device isn’t foreign to their method, this album is a testament to their near-virtuosic ability to make music and tell stories. Phife Dawg (RIP), Q-Tip’s emphatic and energetic co-vocalist, recounts the events of a problem-filled day to Q-Tip during the song “8 Million Stories.”^[10] Throughout this song, listeners hear not only what Phife’s problems are, but also how deeply having a host of problems affects him. The chorus runs as Phife and Q-Tip say, “Problems, problems, problems, woe is me I’m having / Problems, problems, problems.” Phife can be heard paying homage to fellow collaborators as Q-Tip does on The Low End Theory. Both Q-Tip and Phife exchange stories and anecdotes of successful moments (e.g., “Award Tour”) and obstacles with listeners and other collaborators.^[11]11 They draw on the memory-heavy device of narrative-based storytelling to bring the Hip Hop community closer to their craft of making music, and to how the relationship to their craft enhances and complicates their personal lives. Most listeners would assume the glitz and notoriety of being a successful Hip Hop artist would be ‘the life.’ However, these artists are still human beings navigating real-life, real-time problems.

The Organix of Sonic Influence: How the Roots Got Ovah Before They Got Over

Launched in 1999, The Root’s fourth album Things Fall Apart critiqued an important shift in the values celebrated by Hip Hop culture. ^[12] The lyrics of old-school Hip Hop artists like Tupac or Queen Latifah celebrated the individual within the context of society. They understood the individual not as all-powerful, but as an agent embedded in complex social and material systems. In the desolate landscape portrayed, for example, in Life’s a Bitch by Nas (1994), the disenfranchised couldn’t play by the rules and win.^[13]

The culture changed, however, as Hip Hop became mainstream. As white people became an increased proportion of Hip Hop’s audience, especially as industry executives, the genre’s cultural communication of social and material contexts receded and some people began to regard personal agency and responsibility as absolute. While old school lyrics called for unity in the face of systemic oppression, new hits like “Gimme the Loot” (1994) and “It’s All About the Benjamins” (1997) showed little regard for those whom money and power eluded.^[14] Newly interested in crafting impressions, entertainment executives polished artists’ images into superhuman sheens, obscuring or concealing the group effort that Hip Hop artistic ventures required. Instead of emotional story-telling, Hip Hop began to offer shallow ditties that played well on the club scene. In this climate, The Roots birthed an album that not only bucked these trends but directly critiqued them.

The brainchild of musical progeny Ahmir Khalib Thompson (Questlove) and talented wordsmith Tariq Trotter (Black Thought), The Roots had been inspired by the Native Tongues, the Afrocentric Hip Hop collective, and they largely modeled themselves after them. Forever generous with their time, attention, and resources, The Roots called themselves and their affiliates “The Movement” for a sense of coalition, an acknowledgement of music’s ability to serve a greater purpose and bring like-minded people together. As a maven of late twentieth-century musical history and culture, Questlove noticed immediately when Hip Hop’s values began to shift, and he deplored the change openly. In “What They Do,” a single from The Roots’ third album, Illadelph Halflife (1996), Black Thought rapped, “The principals of true Hip Hop have been forsaken / It’s all contractual and about money-makin’.”^[15]

The Roots continued the critique with Things Fall Apart, but with a difference: Their fourth album was more reflexive, considering the group’s growth as artists and what they could offer the listener. The album’s title -- an allusion to both Chinua Achebe’s novel Things Fall Apart and William Butler Yeats’ poem “The Second Coming” -- was the first and most obvious reference to cultural changes in Hip Hop. ^[16] The title emerged from a conversation with Richard Nichols (RIP), The Roots’ manager, who observed that Black Thought reminded him of the Achebe novel’s main character -- a skilled warrior who returns to his homeland after an absence, only to discover that newcomers had corrupted and supplanted the traditions he held most dear. Just as Questlove is a musician’s musician, Black Thought is an emcee’s emcee, fully invested in the art form despite changes of audience or reception. Despite Hip Hop’s shift away from thought-provoking lyrical content, Black Thought continued to prove his excellence in what was rapidly becoming a lost or undervalued artform.

The album opens (“Act Won”) with an audio sample from Spike Lee’s Mo’ Better Blues (1990), in which Bleek (Denzel Washington), an older jazz musician, complains that Black people don’t come to his shows.^[17] A younger and more popular musician named Shadow (Wesley Snipes) suggests it’s not the audience’s fault but Bleek’s: Black people would support him if he played music that they liked. This dialogue was uncomfortably on the nose for The Roots, critical darlings who had yet to capture the popular imagination and who wondered if they could do so without compromising their integrity. By beginning their album with this skit, The Roots posed a dialectic in the most generative sense, hoping to create a third option.

Towards this pursuit, the group cast a wide net. Musically omnivorous, Questlove continually hunts for the next sonic sensibility (at the time of writing, the band has twelve current members, thirteen former members, and too many affiliates to count). When under pressure, The Roots don’t hunker down but throw open their doors; because Things Fall Apart was a make-or-break album, they invited the whole Philadelphia music scene to collaborate in its germination. Valuing talent and skill over reputation, and unafraid to launch competitors, they worked with artists others overlooked, such as a spoken word artist (Jill Scott), a pizza delivery man who became Musiq Soulchild, a ten-year-old with a fabulous voice (Jasmine Sullivan), an up and coming lyrical stalwart (Beanie Siegel), and a talented teenager (Bilal). Not only did Things Fall Apart launch a great many careers, but nine of those acts became bigger than The Roots themselves.

The effort succeeded, and the album achieved the desired dialectic: Its artistic growth reflects deep culutural roots, celebrating history and innovation in equal measures. While the album demonstrates more pop sensibility than the group’s previous efforts, a willingness to experiment is evident from the album’s first song, which careens with a J. Dilla-inspired “drunk” breakbeat and lopsided mix that is intentionally messy, organic, and oh-so-alive. All of the album’s songs feature the complex, layered quality that characterized The Roots from their inception, and none lose their appeal after the first listen. In short, the album is a celebration of organic growth over synthetic manufacture, containing much that’s recycled but nothing disposable (as the album’s intro suggests about music and culture).

Perhaps the album’s most direct critique of Hip Hop’s prevailing culture lies in its cover images (the album’s first launch used five different covers). These images evoked widespread yet preventable horrors: famine; a bombed church; the aftermath of warfare; a murder victim; a child crying from hunger. In an era of media-created Black stereotypes of ‘super predators,’ The Roots spotlighted the ‘super victim.’ While other artists blustered about their successes, portraying themselves as masters of their fates, The Roots drew attention to human frailty. The underlying message -- that we are fallible and all vulnerable to forces beyond our control -- was almost comically unsynched with the prevailing mood.

The Equalizer: How Queen Latifah’s #BlackGirlMagic Balances the Sonic Scales

Queen Latifah’s debut album All Hail the Queen was released in late 1989 and contributed to the evolving sound of Hip Hop’s use of sampling.^[18] The album takes full advantage of disco, be-bop beats, jazz, and reggae rhythms, with Latifah delivering themes of care, joy, and celebration alongside the frustrations, trials, and tribulations that came with being a female rapper in the industry.

Queen Latifah (Dana Owens) was born in Newark, New Jersey, a few years after the city’s notorious 1967 riots against police brutality. Her working-class family included her mother, an art teacher, and a father and older brother who were police officers. As a member of the Native Tongues Collective, a group of politically conscious-minded Hip Hop artists more nerdish than thug, and who infused their music and lyrics with big upbeats and energy, Queen Latifah explored the intersection of gender with race and class, with the politics of visual gender and social identity in the forefront. She states: “I realized… people who had a story in mind already… as if every black kid who was a rapper was uneducated, and poor, and had no parents.”^[19]

When All Hail the Queen released, there were already many firsts in Hip Hop: the mainstreaming of Run DMC (1986), the premiere of Yo! MTV Raps (1988), The Source Magazine’s first issue (1988), and the Grammy establishment of Best Rap Performance (1989).^[20] Gansta rap was also noticeably present, with artists like Schoolly D, Ice-T, Boogie Down Productions, and N.W.A. releasing albums during those years. Queen Latifah emerged into this male-dominated climate and ethos. She reframed the narrative to include a missing feminist perspective that spoke against making women invisible or making them gratifying sexual objects.

Queen’s Latifah’s album was a manifesto to Black women contoured with a Pan-Africanism sensibility. The overall energy of All Hail the Queen was upbeat and eclectic with some laid-back sounds of 1970s groove and funk. Tracks included: “Mama Gave Birth to the Soul Children (featuring De La Soul),” “Latifah’s Law,” “Wrath of My Madness,” “Queen of Royal Badness” and “Evil That Men Do.” The anthemic runaway hit was “Ladies First” (featuring Monie Love) and the tracks “Dance for Me” and “Come Into My House” also found spots on either the rap, R&B or dance charts.^[21]

The album title commanded an action from listeners and Hip Hop peers alike: “all Hail the Queen.” On the cover Latifah stands in black, from her crown-like headwrap to her boots, in a military-style jumpsuit. She faces us three-quarters sideways, one arm hidden behind her, the other up and partially across her chest, accomplishing three things simultaneously: authority, defiance, and invitation. A silhouette of the African continent in a circle, with red and green lettering of her name and album title, appeared stamped on the stark white background. Queen Latifah was in good company with the few other female rappers of the day, namely MC Lyte and Salt-N-Pepa, who were achieving greater levels of recognition and success by serving a hard edge with traces of their feminine sides (a few years later, Lil’ Kim would give us Hard Core (1996), prioritizing and retaliating with the feminine by centering her sexuality).^[22]

Three music videos were shot for the album: “Ladies First,” “Dance for Me,” and “Come Into My House.”^[23] “Ladies First” and “Dance for Me” were directed by the host of Yo! MTV Raps, Fab 5 Freddy, who, like Queen Latifah, describes himself as someone who “grew up in a very conscious household.”^[24] The opening shots of the “Ladies First” music video paid homage to pioneering and noteworthy Black feminists such as Harriet Tubman and Angela Davis. Queen Latifah and her two back-up dancers walk onto an abandoned pier, dressed similarly to the album cover. She steps on the scene undeterred and unfazed, as if saying ‘I can turn this place around.’ Singer songwriter Joi has said: “What’s sexy about it is the fact that it’s not focused on being sexy.”^[25] The rest of the video intercuts between protest footage and Queen Latifah as a commander strategizing over a map of apartheid South Africa, moving and destroying chess pieces. By the end of the video, she is surrounded by a group of Black men raising their fists. Furthermore, to visualize female solidarity and make connections to images of earlier Black feminists (a long line of female rappers), MC Peaches, Ice Cream Tee, and Ms. Melodie make cameo appearances. Throughout the video Queen Latifah accesses her confidence, rage, and joy, displaying a wide array of Black emotion.

For the other two music videos, Queen Latifah continued similar visual expressions in content and dress style. “Dance For Me” saw Queen Latifah with her Flavor Unit Crew dancing in the park, as if at a block party. She is again surrounded by a group of Black men who nod behind her in awed, undisputable approval. In one scene, she smiles and plays with their long dreadlocks. With “Come Into My House,” she helps introduce Hip Hop to the vogue/LGBTQ ballroom scene while simultaneously showcasing dancers and dances from West Africa, Asia, and the Middle East. The international flags and various languages displayed in the backdrop promote the cohesive unity that she espouses throughout the album.

Founder of the MeToo movement Tarana Burke stated: “Latifah was the first woman in hip hop that was political…and she was street. When you start talking about what artists are responsible for, it’s a tricky conversation… Somebody has to take responsibility.”^[26] For Queen Latifah, owning that social responsibility has borne fruit. Over three decades after All Hail The Queen, Queen Latifah remains a lasting international phenomenon, successfully branching into TV, film, and production. She has her own lists of firsts: first female rapper to be nominated for an Academy Award, and first rapper on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. She’s received Emmy nominations, a Lifetime Achievement award, sang with Tony Bennett, and had her own daytime talk show. Her contribution and presence is undeniable. She stood upright to say, ‘I’m here, I own this,’ enabling the Black female rappers who followed to own and create their own spaces, and to speak up and challenge the ethos (be it Lil’ Kim, Missy Elliot, Rapsody, or Nicki Minaj).

When Hip Hop Found It’s Soul: Mary J. Ushers in a Hybrid Sonic Transparency

You cannot talk about Hip Hop music in the 1990s without talking about Mary J. Blige’s first album What’s the 411? and her life as a performing artist. Mary J. Blige is an African American singer, songwriter, actress, model, record producer, and philanthropist. She is called “the Queen of Hip Hop Soul” and is known for her signature blonde hair and soulful voice. Blige created a successful musical and acting career, including fourteen studio albums and various prestigious awards in entertainment. Blige’s rags-to-riches story, her recovery from drug and alcohol, and her trauma are an inspiration for many people. It is through her music and acting roles that she connects to the hearts of people of all ages and backgrounds.

In 1992, Blige was living in the projects in a poor and violent neighborhood, dealing with difficult personal circumstances. This impacted her album because it was through recording these songs that Blige was able to release the feelings of her childhood trauma and abusive relationships. This led to the album’s transparency and the raw emotional sound of her signature love songs. What’s the 411? is different compared to other Hip Hop albums in the 1990s because of its unique fusion of sound with Hip Hop and soul, and its universal, timeless, and relatable theme of love. It further inspired Blige’s urban fashion style in her music videos, which created a cultural trend and movement for Hip Hop fashion style and sensibilities. She also created a path for Black female singers and rappers to enter Hip Hop’s male-dominated spaces. What’s The 411? is pivotal because of its lyrical content on love, Blige’s heartfelt vocals, and the Hip Hop beats that make the audience feel the spirituality of the songs, which helps people heal from heartbreaks and feel what it’s like to be in love.

Each song on the album has its own message. The first track is “Leave A Message,” which contains a sample of “P.S.K. -- What Does It Mean?” by Schoolly D.^[27] The purpose is to show the many musicians and producers that were interested in Mary. The second song is “Reminisce,” which samples “Stop, Look, Listen” by MC Lyte.^[28] The main idea of the song is about a woman remembering the love she had with her boyfriend and the moments they shared. It is this song that catches the audience’s attention to her music because of Mary’s angelic and soulful voice, which takes you to a place of peace, and to the Hip Hop beats that make great hooks to draw various listeners. In the music video, she changes her outfit many times to show her female sexuality and her emotional struggle with her breakup, which is shown with her black and white clothing.

“Real Love” samples “Top Billin’” by Audio Two.^[29] The song talks about a woman who fell for a guy, but he said she is not the one. Now the woman is trying to find another partner who really loves her. In addition, the words are catchy and the fairytale beat flows with the song. Plus, her black and white clothing reveals the gray spot in her life where she feels sad about being rejected, but signals she has not lost faith in love and continues searching for her soul mate. Next, “You Remind Me” samples “Remind Me” by Patrice Rushen.^[30] This song was also in the movie Strictly Business (1991), and was one of the breakout songs on the movie soundtrack.^[31] The song talks about a woman who sees a man that reminds her of her ex-boyfriend. “Intro Talk” contains a sample of “Hydra” performed by Grover Washington, Jr. and features Busta Rhymes. In the song, Busta Rhymes talks about respecting Mary J. Blige’s album and appraising it.^[32] “Sweet Thing” is a cover originally performed by Rufus and Chaka Khan. The song tells a story about a woman in love with her partner who does not show the same feelings. The beat is very smooth and sounds like smooth jazz.^[33] “I Don’t Want to Do Anything” featuring K-Ci Hailey of Jodeci is a slow-paced love song about two people who love each other very much.^[34]

“Slow Down” is about a woman telling her companion to slow down in order to enjoy the intimate moment they’re going to share.^[35] “My Love” is a slow-paced song with Hip Hop beats. In the song, she asks her ex-boyfriend about his post-break-up plans.^[36] “Changes I’ve Been Going Through” contains a sample of “Make the Music with Your Mouth, Biz” by Biz Markie (RIP), with a soulful Hip Hop beat.^[37] The song tells the story of a woman who regrets breaking up with her boyfriend and wishes to be with him again. “What’s the 411?” features Grand Puba and contains a sample of “Pride and Vanity” by the Ohio Players and “Very Special” by Debra Laws.^[38] With a Hip Hop beat and slow pace, its message conveys the needs to create expectations for a partner.

Overall, Mary J. Blige’s twelve songs offer the audience a hypnotic sound and down to earth lyrics that combine to create a spiritual connection. The album highlights heartfelt stories about love and heartbreak that listeners can relate to. Through her angelic voice, she takes people on a journey of self-healing and love, making them stronger and transformed at the end of romantic relationships. What also makes What’s the 411? such an important album is its commitment to the fusion of Rhythm and Blues soul-singing over traditional Hip Hop production. It allows listeners to envision the dream of this fusion in real sonic time.

The spiritual aspect of the album is important to Hip Hop culture and music of the 1990’s because it shows people how music can help those experiencing the psychological process involved with breakups. Additionally, the spiritual aspect of the album is important for listeners because Mary J. Blige is transparent: She was in tune with her inner emotions and shares that perspective on the album. This helps her to connect to her fans and followers because they know the music is coming from her heart. The songs are proof that whatever sadness, anger, and happiness people experience through breakups, or by expressing love for their partners, that they are not alone. She shows people that sound can heal: Thus, healing serves as the most important spiritual aspect of the album.

Once Upon a Time Pre-What’s-His-Face: The Start of the Music for the Children

In 2018, the legendary Hip Hop supergroup Wu-Tang Clan performed a humble selection of classic hits for NPR’s Tiny Desk Concert series. With strings and bass accompaniment, members performed verses as RZA (the de facto leader and producer of the group) controlled the mixes on a turntable and laptop. For most viewers, this may have been the first time they watched Wu-Tang in action; but for long-time fans, it was a nostalgic culmination of the group’s musical dominance in the 1990s, during a time considered as ‘the Golden Era’ of Hip Hop.

Wu-Tang Clan was largely responsible for the evolving sonics of that era with Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) in 1993.^[39] At the time of their debut, the core members of Wu-Tang Clan were RZA, GZA, Ol’ Dirty Bastard (RIP), Inspectah Deck, Raekwon, Method Man, Ghostface Killah, U-God, and Masta Killa. Both RZA and GZA had solo recording contracts and released solo albums before being dropped from their labels. They then corralled the collective the world would come to know as the Wu-Tang Clan. Their cohesion lay in their shared interests of kung-fu movies, Five-Percent Nation philosophy, comic books, and anime -- all of which they incorporated into their lyrics and samples. They also had the shared relation of growing up in the Park Hill and Stapleton Housing Projects in Staten Island and Brooklyn during the Reagan-era; these ties brought the group together in lyrical flow and cadence, and they developed a unique form of autobiographical storytelling through rap.

The independent release of their first single “Protect Ya Neck” brought Wu-Tang to sign under Loud Records, an off-shoot of RCA led by Steve Rifkind.^[40] While the music entrepreneur was setting up in New York City (Rifkind originated from California), he heard the single on the radio and commanded a colleague to find Wu-Tang. He put a record deal on the table -- but RZA negotiated a clause in their contract to allow members to pursue solo projects with competing record labels while retaining their status as a group. This maneuver was unheard of then, as artists were typically at the mercy of labels in the production and distribution of their work. But given the roster of nine members, album sales would not sustain each livelihood; therefore, the label accepted the clause and set a precedent for future supergroups to have more creative control of their music and artistry. In the years following the release of Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers), a few members released solo projects: Tical (1994) by Method Man; Only Built 4 Cuban Linx… (1995) by Raekwon; Return to the 36 Chambers: Dirty Version (1995) by O.D.B.; Liquid Swords (1995) by GZA; and Ironman (1996) by Ghostface Killah.^[41] These albums are considered classics in Wu-Tang’s expansive discography and in Hip Hop culture.

Many credit Wu-Tang for reviving New York/East-coast Hip Hop in the early ‘90s. At the time, West-coast Hip Hop dominated the airwaves, mostly through producer Dr. Dre’s innovation of G-funk, or ‘Gangsta funk.’ The tracks featured on Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) have distinct layers of composition from RZA’s sampling of kung-fu movies and mixes of blues, jazz, classical and soul music, all produced on rudimentary equipment with innovative home-grown techniques that give the music its gritty sound. This is evident on the first track, “Bring Da Ruckus,” which opens with an English-dubbed dialogue from Shaolin and Wu Tang (1983) ripped from VHS and transposed onto a sound mixer -- an undoubtedly complex technical editing that we shouldn’t take for granted.^[42] According to Inspectah Deck, the repetition of the snare was done by RZA placing a microphone under an empty paint bucket and hitting the metal like a drum, creating an echoing effect that fits with “da ruckus” energy of the song. “Bring Da Ruckus” is a fitting track for Wu-Tang to introduce themselves to the Hip Hop world -- and to an extent, the global community -- so that everyone knows their identity and craft.

Members of Wu-Tang approached their style of lyricism through rap battles, akin to the kung-fu duels and battles in Hong Kong cinema featured at New York City movie houses and imported as home media in the 1970s and 1980s. RZA explains that “our tongue is like a sword,” where one must fight for and defend their honor and reputation through free-association lyricism and rhythm.^[43] The hardcore delivery of each member’s contribution to the album cuts deep into the listener’s experience with the music, whether it comes from the eight-person ensemble in “Protect Ya Neck,” or the opening skit in “Tearz,” with its melancholic storytelling of losing loved ones and friends to the harsh realities of living in Staten Island.^[44] The range of Wu-Tang’s creativity in their first album set the stage for their 30-year legacy with prospects to continue onwards, as proclaimed by fans as, “Wu-Tang Forever!” and “Wu-Tang is for the children.”

Is the Nostalgia Worth It?: How We Found Happiness In This Iteration of Listening

So why is the nostalgia surrounding these 1990’s albums important or even noteworthy for reflection? For people born in the ‘90s, we take for granted the evolution of Hip Hop during its Golden Age. Our access to streaming services and media platforms enables us to travel through our childhood when popular Hip Hop artists were emerging. When we take seriously and pay close attention to the role that rhetorical memory plays in Tribe’s music, however, we respond to a larger call from a generation in conversation with those before us, those that are here with us now, and those that will come after us. This is because memory not only affects how we see and hear the past, but because it affects how we understand the present and what we can imagine for ourselves in the future. We as a community of artists and listeners do not exist with stagnant memories, nor in a past fixed in time -- rather, our memories are active, affective, rhetorical, communal, and, more than anything, alive. Circling back to the NPR Tiny Desk Concert series, we now see how much has changed for Wu-Tang Clan since Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers), with Cappadonna as an official member of the group and Young Dirty Bastard standing in for his late father, O.D.B. But what remains the same is the authentic 1990s Hip Hop vibe that only Wu-Tang Clan can deliver “for the children!”

These conversations and the interplay of how and why these albums resonate with our collective brings forth a particular type of nostalgia -- from members of the listening populace in real-time to those birthed when these albums came to life. The nostalgia cuts through time and space and helps to bring generations into a sonic connectivity that shows the power of Hip Hop culture as it turns 50 years old. The most important aspect of our class during the semester was the implementation of our code of listening ethics, which allowed us to make sense of how integral these albums were to various aspects of future Hip Hop sonic stylings. It allows the younger members of our class to connect current Hip Hop to the auditory elements of its roots. For the older members, it allowed us to channel Nas and walk through a “second childhood” that brought back why Hip Hop has been a soul-soother and life-saver for so many.^[45] The way we experience present-day Hip Hop music and culture has everything to do with the foundation that these albums, and many other ‘90’s BOPS, left our class with. By the semesters’s end, we left thinking about what more these 1990s musical contributions might mean to the sonic growth of the music culture entering its half-century anniversary.

Bibliography

1. Achebe, Chinua. Things Fall Apart. London: William Heinemann,1958.
2. “All Hail the Queen.” Wikipedia. June 2, 2023. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/All_Hail_the_Queen
3. Ashon, Will. Chamber Music: Wu-Tang and America (in 36 pieces). London: Faber & Faber, 2019. 
4. A Tribe Called Quest. Midnight Marauders. Jive Records, 1993.
5. A Tribe Called Quest. People’s Instinctive Travels and the Paths of Rhythm. Jive/RCA Records, 1990. 
6. A Tribe Called Quest. The Low End Theory. Jive Records, 1991. 
7. Audio Two. What More Can I Say?. First Priority/Atlantic Records, 1988.
8. Biz Markie. Goin’ Off. Cold Chillin’/Warner Bros. Records, 1988.
9. Craig, Todd. “K for the Way”: DJ Rhetoric and Literacy for 21st Century Writing Studies. Denver: Utah State University Press, 2023.
10. Debra Laws. Very Special. Elektra Records, 1981.
11. Fernando Jr., S.H. From The Streets of Shaolin: The Wu-Tang Saga. New York: Hachette Books, 2021.
12. Ghostface Killah. Ironman. Epic/Razor Sharp Records, 1996.
13. Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. The Message. Sugar Hill, 1982.
14. Grover Washington, Jr. Feels So Good. Kudu Records, 1975.
15. GZA. Liquid Swords. Geffen Records, 1995.
16. Havoc of Mobb Deep and Todd Craig, “Does Hip Hop Need an ‘Old’ Category?” Ep.12. Stuck Off The Realness. Podcast and Youtube video, 1:19:01. September 5, 2024. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sJyaTdyahiI
17. Henderson, Alex. “Queen Latifah - All Hail the Queen Album Reviews, Songs & More.” AllMusic, January 15, 2023. https://www.allmusic.com/album/all-hail-the-queen-mw0000654588
18. Hesford, Wendy S. Review of Rhetorical Memory, Political Theater, and the Traumatic Present, by Catherine Filloux. Transformations: The Journal of Inclusive Scholarship and Pedagogy 16, no. 2 (2005): 104–17. http://www.jstor.org/stable/10.5325/trajincschped.16.2.0104

Hip Hop: The Songs That Shook America, TV series, One Season, AMC, 2019.

1. Huey, Steve. “Queen Latifah Biography, Songs, & Albums.” AllMusic. Accessed January 15, 2023. https://www.allmusic.com/artist/queen-latifah-mn0000372229/biography
2. Lil’ Kim. Hard Core. Big Beat Records/Atlantic Records. 1996.
3. “Mary J. Blige.” Biography.com. Accessed July 11, 2023. https://www.biography.com/musicians/mary-j-blige
4. Mary J Blige. What’s the 411?. Uptown/MCA Records, 1992.
5. MC Lyte. Eyes on This. First Priority/Atlantic Records, 1989.
6. MetaBrainz Foundation. “All Hail the Queen.” MusicBrainz. Accessed January 10, 2023. https://musicbrainz.org/release/85abd5ca-590b-425b-a004-32bdafe18719
7. Method Man. Tical. Def Jam Records, 1994.
8. Mo’ Better Blues. Directed by Spike Lee (40 Acres and a Mule Filmworks / Universal Pictures, 1990).
9. Nas. Illmatic. Columbia Records, 1994.
10. Nas. Stillmatic. Ill Will/Columbia Records, 2001.
11. Old Dirty Bastard. Return to the 36 Chambers: Dirty Version. Elektra/WMG Records, 1995.
12. Patrice Rushen. Straight from the Heart. Elektra Records, 1982.
13. Pete Rock and CL Smooth. Mecca and the Soul Brother. Elektra Records, 1992.
14. Preezydakid. “30 First Moments in Hip-Hop You Should Know.” XXL Mag, January 4, 2023. https://www.xxlmag.com/hip-hop-firsts/
15. Puff Daddy and the Family. No Way Out. Arista/Bad Boy Records, 1997.
16. Queen Latifah. All Hail the Queen. Tommy Boy Records, 1989.
17. “Queen Latifah.” Biography.com. Accessed December 21, 2022. https://www.biography.com/musician/queen-latifah
18. “Queen Latifah | Actress, Producer, Music Department.” IMDb. Accessed January 5, 2023. https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0001451/
19. “Queen Latifah.” Biography.com. Accessed December 21, 2022. https://www.biography.com/musician/queen-latifah
20. “Queen Latifah.” Wikipedia, July 14, 2023. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Queen_Latifah
21. Questlove, Ahmir, and Ben Greenman. Mo’ Meta Blues: The World According to Questlove. New York, NY: Grand Central Publishing, 2015.
22. The Notorious B.I.G. Ready to Die. Bad Boy/Arista Records, 1994.
23. The Ohio Players. Pleasure. Westbound Records, 1972.
24. Raekwon. Only Built 4 Cuban Linx… Loud/RCA Records, 1995.
25. The Roots. How I Got Over. Def Jam Recordings, 2010.  
26. The Roots. Organix. Remedy Recordings, 1993. 
27. The Roots. Things Fall Apart. MCA Records, 1999. 
28. The Roots. Illadelph Halflife,  DVG/Geffen Records, 1996.
29. Rufus Featuring Chaka Khan. Rufus Featuring Chaka Khan. ABC Records, 1975.
30. Schoolly D. Schoolly D. Schoolly D/Rhythem King/Jive/RCA Records, 1985.
31. Shaolin and Wu Tang. Directed by Chia-Hui Liu (Hing Fut Film Company, 1983).
32. Strictly Business. Directed by Kevin Hooks (Island World / Warner Brothers, 1991).
33. Strictly Business. (Soundtrack - Various Artists). Uptown/MCA Records, 1991.
34. “Wu-Tang’s RZA Breaks Down 10 Kung Fu Films He’s Sampled.” Vanity Fair. September 3, 2019. YouTube video, 13:34. https://youtu.be/RZ67KyHX-cY
35. “What’s the 411?” Wikipedia, July 14, 2023. https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/What%27s_the_411%3F
36. “Why So Many Black People Love Kung Fu.” The Guardian. YouTube video, 7:30. October 31, 2019. https://youtu.be/h2uDE8TuULs
37. Williams, Reggie, and Amanda Mester. “The Making of ATCQ's the Low End Theory, Told by People Who Were There.” Ambrosia For Heads. September 23, 2016. ambrosiaforheads.com/2016/09/a-tribe-called-quest-low-end-theory-making-the-album-interview/
38. Wu-Tang Clan. Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers). BMG/RCA/Loud Records, 1993.
39. Wu-Tang Clan. Once Upon a Time in Shaolin. Self-release, 2015.
40. Wu-Tang: An American Saga. TV Series. Prod. RZA & Alex Tse, Hulu, Three Seasons, Three Seasons, 2019-2023.
41. “Wu-Tang Clan: NPR Music Tiny Desk Concert.” NPR Music. YouTube video, 20:44. December 12, 2018. https://youtu.be/ALUKDkOxVPo 
42. Yo! MTV Raps. TV series, MTV US, 1988-1995.

Notes

1. Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, “The Message,” Track 7 on The Message, Sugar Hill, 1982.

   ↑

2. Havoc of Mobb Deep and Todd Craig, “Does Hip Hop Need an ‘Old’ Category?” Ep.12. Stuck Off The Realness. Podcast and Youtube video, 1:19:01. September 5, 2024. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sJyaTdyahiI

   ↑

3. Todd Craig, “K for the Way”: DJ Rhetoric and Literacy for 21st Century Writing Studies (Denver: Utah State University Press, 2023).

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4. Wendy S. Hesford, “Review of Rhetorical Memory, Political Theater, and the Traumatic Present,” by Catherine Filloux. Transformations: The Journal of Inclusive Scholarship and Pedagogy 16, no. 2 (2005): 104–17.

   ↑

5. A Tribe Called Quest, The Low End Theory. Zomba Recording, 1991; A Tribe Called Quest, Midnight Marauders, 1991, Jive Records.

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6. Mary J. Blige, What’s The 411?, Uptown/MCA, 1992.

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7. RZA, “Wu-Tang Clan: NPR Music Tiny Desk Concert.” NPR Music. December 12, 2018. YouTube Video, 20:24. https://youtu.be/ALUKDkOxVPo 

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8. Reggie Williams and Amanda Mester, “The Making of ATCQ's the Low End Theory, Told by People Who Were There.” Ambrosia For Heads. September 23, 2016. ambrosiaforheads.com/2016/09/a-tribe-called-quest-low-end-theory-making-the-album-interview/.

   ↑

9. A Tribe Called Quest, Vinia Mojia, Ron Carter, “Verses from the Abstract (feat. Vinia Mojia and Ron Carter),” Track 5 on The Low End Theory. Jive Records, 1991. 

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10. A Tribe Called Quest, “8 Million Stories,” Track 4 on Midnight Marauders, 1991, Jive Records.

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11. 11 A Tribe Called Quest, Trugoy the Dove, “Award Tour (feat. Trugoy the Dove),” Track 3 on Midnight Marauders, Jive Records.

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12. The Roots, Things Fall Apart MCA Records, 1999. 

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13. Nas, AZ, Olu Dara, “Life’s a Bitch (feat. AZ& Olu Dara,” Track 4 on Illmatic, Columbia Records, 1994.

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14. The Notorious B.I.G., “Gimme the Loot,” Track 3 on Ready to Die. Bad Boy/Arista Records, 1994; Puff Daddy and the Family, the Notrious B.I.G., Lil’ Kim, Lox, and Stevie J., “It’s All about the Benjamins (feat. the Notrious B.I.G., Lil’ Kim, Lox, and Stevie J.),” Track 10 on No Way Out, Arista/Bad Boy Records, 1997.

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15. The Roots, “What they Do,” Track 8 on Illadelph Halflife, DVG/Geffen Records, 1996.

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16. Chinua Achebe, Things Fall Apart (London, William Heinemann,1958); William Butler Yeats, “The Second Coming.” Poetry Foundatoin. Accessed September 11, 2024. https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/43290/the-second-coming

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17. Mo’ Better Blues, directed by Spike Lee (40 Acres and a Mule Filmworks / Universal Pictures, 1990).

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18. Queen Latifah, All Hail the Queen, Tommy Boy, 1989.

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19. “Ladies First: 1989.” Episode 6, Hip Hop: The Songs That Shook America, TV series, One Season, AMC, 2019.

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20. Yo! MTV Raps, TV series, MTV US, 1988-1995.

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21. Queen Latifah, “Mama Gave Birth to the Soul Children (with De La Soul),” Track 2; “Latifah’s Law,” Track 4; “Wrath of My Madness,” Track 5; “Queen of Royal Badness,” Track 9; and “Evil That Men Do,” Track 10; “Ladies First” (featuring Monie Love), Track 7; “Dance for Me,” Track 1; “Come Into My House,” Track 3, on All Hail the Queen, Tommy Boy Records, 1989.

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22. Lil’ Kim, Hard Core, Big Beat Records/Atlantic Records, 1996.

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23. Queen Latifah, “Ladies First.” YouTube video, 3:57. January 19, 2018. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Qimg_q7LbQ; Queen Latifah, “Dance for Me.” YouTube video, 3:43. September 3, 2018. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2q3DMZkEnjM; Queen Latifah, “Come Into My House.” YouTube video, 3:59. July 14, 2018. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QcP5Wwr3c-Y

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24. Fab 5, Freddy,“Ladies First: 1989.” Episode 6, Hip Hop: The Songs That Shook America, TV series, One Season, AMC, 2019.

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25. Joi, “Ladies First: 1989.” Episode 6, Hip Hop: The Songs That Shook America, TV series, One Season, AMC, 2019.

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26. Tarana Burke, “Ladies First: 1989.” Episode 6, Hip Hop: The Songs That Shook America, TV series, One Season, AMC, 2019.

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27. Mary J. Blige, “Leave a Message,” Track 1 on What’s The 411?, Uptown/MCA, 1992; Schoolly D., “P.S.K. What Does It Mean?,” Track 4 on Schoolly D, Schoolly D/Rhythem King/Jive/RCA Records, 1985.

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28. Mary J. Blige, “Reminisce,” Track 2 on What’s The 411?, Uptown/MCA, 1992; MC Lyte, “Stop, Look, Listen,” Track 4 on Eyes on This, First Priority/Atlantic Records, 1989.

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29. Mary J. Blige, “Real Love,” Track 3 on What’s The 411?, Uptown/MCA, 1992; Audio Two, “Top Billin’,” Track 1 on What More Can I Say?, First Priority/Atlantic Records, 1988.

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30. Mary J. Blige, “Real Love,” Track 3 on What’s The 411?, Uptown/MCA, 1992; Patrice Rushen, “Remind Me,” Track 8 on Straight from the Heart, Elektra, 1982.

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31. Strictly Business, directed by Kevin Hooks (Island World / Warner Brothers, 1991); Mary J. Blige, “You Remind Me,” Track 4 on Strictly Business (Soundtrack - Various Artists), Uptown/MCA Records, 1991.

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32. Mary J. Blige with Busta Rhymes, “Intro Talk,” Track 5 on What’s The 411?, Uptown/MCA, 1992; Grover Washington, Jr., “Hydra,” Track 5 on Feels So Good, 1975, Kudu Records.

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33. Mary J. Blige, “Sweet Thing,” Track 6 on What’s The 411?, Uptown/MCA, 1992; Rufus, Chaka Khan, “Sweet Thing,” Track 6 on Rufus Featuring Chaka Khan, ABC Records, 1975.

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34. Mary J. Blige, K-Ci, “I Don’t Want to Do Anything,” Track 8 on What’s The 411?, Uptown/MCA, 1992.

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35. Mary J. Blige, “Slow Down,” Track 9 on What’s The 411?, Uptown/MCA, 1992.

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36. Mary J. Blige, “My Llove,” Track 10 on What’s The 411?, Uptown/MCA, 1992.

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37. Mary J. Blige, “Slow Down,” Track 11 on What’s The 411?, Uptown/MCA, 1992; Biz Markie, “Make the Music with Your Mouth, Biz,” Track 6 on Goin’ Off, Cold Chillin’/Warner Bros. Records, 1988.

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38. Mary J. Blige, “What’s The 411?,” Track 12 on What’s The 411?, Uptown/MCA, 1992; The Ohio Players, “Pride and Vanity,” Track 3 on Pleasure, Westbound Records, 1972; Debra Laws, “Very Special,” Track 3 on Very Special, Elektra Records, 1981.

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39. Wu-Tang Clan, Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers), BMG/RCA/Loud Records, 1993.

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40. Wu-Tang Clan, “Protect Ya Neck,” Track 10 on Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers), BMG/RCA/Loud Records, 1993. [originally released in 1992]

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41. Method Man, Tical, Def Jam Records, 1994; Raekwon, Only Built 4 Cuban Linx…, Loud/RCA Records, 1995; Old Dirty Bastard, Return to the 36 Chambers: Dirty Version, Elektra/WMG Records, 1995; GZA, Liquid Swords, Geffen Records, 1995; Ghostface Killah, Ironman, Epic/Razor Sharp Records,1996.

    ↑

42. Wu-Tang Clan. “Bring Da Ruckus,” Track 1 on Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers), BMG/RCA/Loud Records, 1993; Shaolin and Wu Tang, directed by Chia-Hui Liu (Hing Fut Film Company, 1983).

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43. RZA, “Wu-Tang’s RZA Breaks Down 10 Kung Fu Films He’s Sampled.” Vanity Fair. September 3, 2019. YouTube video, 13:34. https://youtu.be/RZ67KyHX-cY

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44. Wu-Tang Clan, “Tearz,” Track 11 on Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers), BMG/RCA/Loud Records, 1993.

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45. Nas, “2nd Childhood,” Track 8 on Stillmatic, Ill Will/Columbia Records, 2001.

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