The Mid-Nineties: The Era of New York City’s Hip Hop Renaissance
Today, New York City is my home. For most of my life, it wasn’t. Growing up in nearby Philadelphia, we always had a rivalry with New York, living in its shadow and sharing an unhealthy rivalry with New York’s mostly second-rate sports teams. People I grew up with would avoid New York at all costs, whether physically or in everyday conversation. And for the longest time, I was guilty of the same thing.
As I grew through my 20s, my tone changed. While the Mets, Rangers and Giants and their fans perpetually pissed me off, my attitude towards NYC itself began to transition from one of baseless disdain to one of intrigue, and an overall recognition of its unmatched cultural brilliance — not just on a regional level, not just on a national US level, but on a global scale.
Long before I had the power to choose where to live, while I was moving through my awkward pre-teen years, I gradually discovered hip hop, through both the local radio station (Power 99) and the widespread emergence of high-speed internet around the turn of the century (questionable ethics aside, Kazaa and Limewire were absolutely integral). As I progressed through my teenage years, I developed a deep interest and passion for hip hop music and culture; as I discovered this, it became impossible not to acknowledge the integral role of New York City’s diversity and culture that birthed the entire art form, which dominates on a global scale today.
In particular, it was on August 11, 1973 when hip hop was born. It was in the basement of 1520 Sedgwick Avenue, a high-rise located right next to the Major Deegan Expressway and Harlem River in the Morris Heights section of the Bronx, where hip hop was, perhaps, accidentally created. This took place at the hands of DJ Kool Herc, who was hosting a back-to-school party, as he started experimenting with some turntables while his friend Coke La Rock decided to pick up a microphone and engage the crowd. This DJ/MC combination began to spread outside of 1520 Sedgwick’s basement as the 1970s wore on, making its way throughout the Bronx and the rest of the city. By the time the 1980s arrived, hip hop culture was quickly taking shape in a city that was known for another burgeoning counterculture, the punk rock scene. Around this time, hip hop had perfected its telltale elements: rapping, turntablism, breakdancing and graffiti. At the turn of the decade, The Sugar Hill Gang had a single that was blowing up across the country and Kurtis Blow was getting ready to drop his debut album.
While many originally deemed hip hop music as a fad that would die as quick as disco did, the opposite would materialize. By the middle 1980s, hip hop was expanding rapidly in New York City, with acts such as Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Whodini, Afrika Bambaataa, Run-D.M.C. and LL Cool J. Artists were also emerging in other cities, such as Los Angeles, Philadelphia, Houston, and the San Francisco Bay Area. But NYC reigned supreme, and in the second half of the decade, the greater New York scene, which was already on the brink of something big, suddenly exploded with countless future legends emerging: Public Enemy, Eric B. and Rakim, Kool G Rap, Biz Markie, Big Daddy Kane, EPMD, Beastie Boys, De La Soul, Boogie Down Productions, MC Shan, Ultramagnetic MCs, and many more.
This musical explosion was (and will, from this point forward, be referred to as) the golden age of hip hop music and culture. It partially defined New York City from an artistic standpoint in the second half of the 1980s until about 1990, when the New York scene began to slow down and some of the more recognizable names on the west coast began achieving national and international recognition. By this time, hip hop was essentially a household thing, and everyone was looking for the next big sound. In 1991, the east coast sound was becoming oversaturated — this is NOT to say that there wasn’t great hip hop being coming out at this time, there was just less of it. Other scenes started to emerge away from New York and the east coast, particularly in Houston, Memphis, the Bay Area, and most notably, Los Angeles.
Early to mid 90s west coast hip hop, particularly out of Los Angeles, was defined by G-funk. Consisting of lush, melodic synth samples pulled from 1970s funk music, the G-funk sound was pioneered and perfected by Dr. Dre, and it was, frankly, a breath of fresh air for hip hop. By 1991, a lot of the beats and rhymes coming out of New York scene sounded repetitive and stale (again, there were glaring exceptions, such as The Low End Theory by A Tribe Called Quest, released that year). Out west, Dre and those he was building his empire with had created an untapped new sound with those lush synths, fresh drums and even more outlandish lyrics than just about anything that had been done by any New York artist to that point. There was about a two-year period where the best quality music was coming out from California — much of it through the newly-established Death Row Records.
Hip hop, which was born in New York City, was being perfected three thousand miles away. But while this was going on, there was a younger new generation emerging back in New York. A new, more vulgar, more ruthless generation who had grown up in the city during the 1980s crack epidemic and associated crime wave was moving from adolescence into early adulthood. Creativity began to brew out of the angst and tension that set the tone. As this inspiration was being cultivated, the advanced technology that the early 1990s west coast scene utilized so effectively was becoming widely available — this is an extremely important point as we look at the birth of the next era.
The elements were all there; the pendulum was ready to swing back east. As the early 90s gave way to the middle of the decade, the transition happened. And it did so in remarkable fashion, resulting in one of hip hop’s greatest periods: the mid-nineties east coast renaissance.
The music of the renaissance was characterized by dusty, hardcore instrumentals and extremely unforgiving, mostly no-frills lyrical content. The new generation embraced this formula, and a mass emergence began. While there are a lot of contributors to consider here, there are five records that stand out to me as the most influential of this storied era. This is a topic that can be debated endlessly, but I’ve identified the records that collectively had the greatest impact on the east coast renaissance. They are also listed here because of their subsequent legacies, which are widely celebrated and studied to this day.
Here are five albums that fueled the east coast hip hop renaissance of the middle 1990s.
While not the most famous of the records that signaled perhaps the most earth-shattering shift in hip hop history, Enta da Stage by Brooklyn trio Black Moon was essentially the record that got it all started. While the other four albums on this list are household names, this first record predates the others, but has not quite achieved the same widespread recognition. However, those who know and truly understand this album will vouch for it until they turn blue in the face.
For those who may not be familiar with Black Moon, they were formed in Bushwick, Brooklyn in 1992 and consisted of two MCs: Buckshot and 5 Ft. Accelerator, and their DJ/producer Evil Dee. The group was managed by a young suburban kid from Westchester by the name of Andrew Friedman, aka Dru Ha, who was an employee of Manhattan record label Nervous Records. Black Moon got in with Nervous after being noticed by pioneering DJ, producer, and radio personality Chuck Chillout while performing at a party. They were subsequently signed, given a record deal, and began recording their first two singles: “I Got Cha Opin’” and the furious, hardcore “Who Got Da Props?”; the latter of the two would become a smash hit on New York City radio by the end of 1992, building an immense amount of hype for the release of their album.
While most of the artists who dropped the albums that I will profile later were already active and creating their own hype by this time, Black Moon were narrowly the first to actually release an LP. Enta da Stage was released on October 19, 1993, a mere three weeks before the next album on this list which many people think got it all re-started for the east coast. The reality is Black Moon was the first group to drop a high-profile album that would essentially let the world know about the new east coast sound, which, again, was already being cultivated in the year or so leading up to late 1993. Black Moon wasn’t the artist or group to think of the sound or subject material, but they were the first to act on it, subsequently carving their legacy in New York’s renaissance.
The music was extremely characteristic of what New York City hip hop would almost exclusively sound like for the next three or four years. While the production is a bit dustier and more lo-fi than what would be built up and churned out in the coming years, we have to remember that this was recorded in late 1992 and early 1993 on a small, independent record label with less budget. DJ Evil Dee and his brother and partner Mr. Walt handled the production; the duo would adapt the moniker Da Beatminerz and would end up being a major force in the less commercial side of the east coast renaissance. Da Beatminerz emerged on Enta da Stage, and would go on to be the in-house production team for the Boot Camp Clik, which was created around the time of the album’s release, and included future NYC renaissance darlings Smif-N-Wessun and Heltah Skeltah.
The name “Da Beatminerz” comes from the purposeful use by Walt and Evil Dee of lower-frequency basslines and samples, which are “mined” from the lowest sonic reaches, giving the album an absolute guttural feel. The production was a bit more muddy and not as melodic as some of the music that was to come out of New York in the next several years, but the clever use of jazzy horn samples was almost a nod to the producers who kept grinding pumping out music after the shift to the west coast, such as DJ Premier, Large Professor, Q-Tip, Lord Finesse, Diamond D and others.
Lyrically, the album is absolutely ruthless. I find it hard to believe that anything more verbally ostentatious was available for purchase in October 1993. While 5 Ft. Accelerator was a contributing member of the group and remains in the group to this day, he was supposedly very unfocused and his presence was sparse while Enta da Stage was being recorded. As a result, most of the rhymes you’ll hear on this record were dropped by Boot Camp Clik co-founder and one of the underground’s greatest label-runners/businessmen, Buckshot Shorty. His raw and extremely vulgar delivery surely raised many eyebrows in ’92 and ’93, and despite all of the hardcore lyricists that would dominate for the next few years, Buckshot’s performance on this record still remains as one of the hardest ever.
If there’s one point of criticism that I have about Enta da Stage, it’s that Buckshot doesn’t really deviate from the same street-level, stickup kid subject material over the course of the album. He gets a tad conscious on “Slave”, loosely addressing one’s mental health while growing up on the perilous streets of inner Brooklyn, but generally, the lyrics are the product of a reckless 18-year-old who doesn’t really care if he lives or dies. This is not to say that it isn’t a remarkable performance. Other than on the two aforementioned singles that drove the album, Buckshot especially shines on the grimy opener “Powaful Impak!” and its follow-up “N**** Talk Shit”, the smooth “Buck ’Em Down”, the demented “Shit Iz Real” and the catchy “How Many MC’s”. The final track, “U Da Man”, features Smif-n-Wessun, who also show up on the track “Black Smif-n-Wessun” earlier on the album. Also on “U Da Man” was an interesting appearance from a young kid named Havoc from Queensbridge, Queens, who may just be mentioned again later on.
All in all, Enta da Stage is an excellent record, regardless of context. When I first heard it nearly two decades ago as a teenager, I was actually unimpressed because it simply didn’t sound as advanced as anything else from that era. Over time, I grew to appreciate its guttural demeanor that was created on purpose, as well as its ultra-direct, vulgar subject matter, and began to realize that without this fantastic album, hip hop probably wouldn’t have evolved in quite the same way. Sure, there were other artists doing the same thing at the time. And once again, Black Moon was not the creator of the sound that defined New York’s revolution, but there’s something about this record that puts it in a different, grimier class than almost anything else that defined the era.
Living in New York City, I’ve noticed a ton of elitist snobs. Depending in what borough or neighborhood you’re in, they sometimes can’t be avoided. “Real” New Yorkers often despise these types, but then turn around and do the same to one of their very own boroughs: Staten Island. Effectively disconnected from the rest of the city, only linked by a ridiculously expensive toll bridge and a long but free ferry ride, Staten Island is the butt of many jokes. It kind of digs its own grave: for example, it gave 56% of its presidential vote to Donald Trump not once, but TWICE.
All joking aside (actually, I’m not joking, Staten Island pretty much sucks), the island has given the hip hop world one major contribution. In the early 1990s, the pieces began to fall into place for the almighty Wu-Tang Clan. An eventual nine-man crew with six of its men coming from the Park Hill and Stapleton neighborhoods located on the far northeastern reaches of the island, the Wu was headed up by Robert Diggs, known at the time as Prince Rakeem, a solo artist that made some moderate noise during the previous quieter years of the east coast scene. Coming together with his two cousins, Brooklyn natives GZA, known then as The Genius, who also had his share of modest recognition in the early 90s, and Ol’ Dirty Bastard, they brought together six more friends and associates to form the crew in 1992.
Building his craft right out of his own basement, Prince Rakeem adopted the moniker “RZA” and brought everyone together, including then-bitter street rivals Ghostface Killah and Raekwon, asking everyone to give him five years to build his empire. His plan was to bring the resources and individual talents of the crew together, dominate hip hop for the middle 90s, and be able to have everyone come away leaving a collective mark on hip hop while carving their own individual legacies. Quite an ambitious plan, but with the release of their first single, “Protect Ya Neck”, it was immediately evident that RZA was a man on a mission.
It didn’t take long for “Protect Ya Neck” to make a huge impact on local airwaves. Akin to the group atmosphere of the Juice Crew a few years earlier, the track featured a whopping eight rappers coming at you in less than five minutes with rapid-fire, energetic delivery over a creepy yet equally-energetic beat. The single gained the group attention and they would go on to continue recording at RZA’s direction, putting together their debut album in less than a year. It was November 1993 when the seminal Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) hit stores, released on a brand-new label, Loud Records, and changed hip hop forever.
The Wu’s debut brought to the table guttural, raw production and equally abrasive lyricism and energy from all nine MCs (member Masta Killa was locked up during the recording of “Protect Ya Neck”, but contributed elsewhere on the album). Some cuts brought a dark and unforgiving energy (“Bring Da Ruckus” [which is one of the best hip hop openers in existence], “Wu-Tang: 7th Chamber”, “Wu-Tang Clan Ain’t Nuthin Ta F’ Wit”), while others brought more of a light-hearted, sometimes humorous atmosphere (“Shame on a N****”, “Clan in da Front”, “Method Man”), and some even brought raw emotion to the table (“Can It Be All So Simple”, “C.R.E.A.M.”, “Tearz”), making very clear that despite their youthful and ruthless energy, they had seen a lot in a relatively short time.
The album skyrocketed the crew to popularity rather quickly, and while “Protect Ya Neck” was the cut that got it all started, “C.R.E.A.M.” is the one that has essentially defined their career. Yes, other songs on the album have made their mark far and wide in American and even international culture, but “Cash Rules Everything Around Me” is an acronym that you can still hear kids reciting today. Perhaps drawing influence from its use by earlier generations, the term “cream” became synonymous with “money” in the hip hop community, much like some people refer to any type of soda as “Coke”.
In the shorter term after the album’s release, the popularity and energy around 36 Chambers led solo members to receive their own record deals, and for RZA to produce their records. Running off of the momentum of 36 Chambers, RZA would take full creative and executive control over five albums that are commonly known as the first wave of Wu-Tang solo releases. Method Man would drop Tical in 1994, Ol’ Dirty Bastard would release Return to the 36 Chambers: The Dirty Version in 1995, GZA would drop the seminal Liquid Swords later that year along with Raekwon’s masterpiece Only Built 4 Cuban Linx, followed by Ghostface Killah’s Ironman, which was only released in 1996 due to a flood that destroyed RZA’s same basement studio in which Enter the Wu-Tang and the other early solo projects were created. These five albums, along with the debut that started it all, led the Wu-Tang Clan to the top of the game by 1997, effectively solidifying their legacies forever. Wu-Tang would drop their second album that year, Wu-Tang Forever, which was a commercial smash.
In case you were wondering, RZA’s five-year plan worked. Wu-Tang is an institution in hip hop and they are arguably the most successful crew in hip hop history. It all got started with 36 Chambers, which not only birthed their legacy, but helped accelerate the east coast renaissance even further.
The golden age of hip hop was concentrated all over the city, and even out onto Long Island. But in the city, there was one particular neighborhood, one notorious housing project, that saw a considerably higher ratio of MC’s and producers come out of it: Queensbridge Projects. Located along the East River and just below the Queensboro Bridge in Long Island City, Queens, Queensbridge was home to MC Shan, Roxanne Shante, Craig G, Marley Marl and Tragedy Khadafi (then known as Intelligent Hoodlum), among others. The Bridge, as it is commonly called by the rappers that consider it home, is the largest housing project in North America, consisting of 96 buildings over a six-block radius.
As things died down in New York in general for a couple of years in the early 90s, there was one young rapper out of Queensbridge that was already making noise for the next generation. Fueled by his notable appearance on “Live at the Barbecue” off of Main Source’s 1991 debut Breaking Atoms (one of the finer albums during the early 90s NYC lull), the legend of Nas was born. After Nas’ appearance on the now-legendary track, Rockaway, Queens rapper MC Serch, whose golden-era group 3rd Bass had just broken up, approached Nas and started mentoring the then-teenager. Nas and Serch would hit the studio and record the song “Halftime” in 1992, which was included on the Zebrahead soundtrack, and was the final straw in getting Nas a record deal. The song blew up in and around New York, and Columbia Records promptly signed him.
By late 1992, Nas was in the studio, and spent most of the first few months of ’93 recording. After a long year or so of anticipation and airplay from “Halftime” and what would become one of his most famous songs, “It Ain’t Hard to Tell”, the long-awaited Illmatic was released in April 1994. As soon as it was released, critics were immediately praising it. In fact, it was only the seventh album in six years to be given the elusive “five mic” rating by influential hip hop magazine The Source. The record became a nationwide success, and became very important in bolstering the east coast’s ongoing return due to its stark, realistic street tales told over some of the best beats in history.
The album is (and was back then) considered a front-to-back classic, spearheaded by the timeless DJ Premier-produced “N.Y. State of Mind”, which is followed up by the jaw-dropping one-two punch of Brooklyn’s AZ and Nas on “Life’s a Bitch”, which ends with a somber but beautiful trumpet solo by none other than Nas’ own father, jazz musician Olu Dara. “The World Is Yours”, another one of hip hop’s most celebrated songs ever, comes next, with Nas spitting absolute truth over a gem of a beat from Pete Rock. “Halftime” then makes its appearance, followed up by another DJ Premier-produced masterpiece, “Memory Lane (Sittin’ in da Park)”, which shows Nas reminiscing and telling a story of his Queensbridge upbringing.
“One Love” is an ode to his incarcerated friends (namely Cormega, who he would later have a vicious feud with), and was produced by Q-Tip, who ended up being a very integral role player in the east coast’s return, also contributing to the final album on this list. “One Time 4 Your Mind” is a slick, jazzy song done by Large Professor with some of Nas’ best-ever punchlines. “Represent” is possibly the most intriguing beat on the album, again produced by DJ Premier, before “It Ain’t Hard to Tell” wraps the album up in a mind-melting fashion.
The production on this album, while some of the best of all-time, is not even the main feature here. Lyrically, the album was light years ahead of anything that had ever been done, with perhaps only Rakim providing as impressive of a performance until that time. Nas’ rhyme schemes were intricate and impressive for any MC of any age, let alone a 20-year-old. The subject matter painted a stark picture of Queensbridge street life, and the album re-lit the spark that burned so vigorously half a decade earlier, kicking off a second and even more prosperous wave of success from the neighborhood. We’ll later discuss another Queensbridge album that was also highly influential in bringing back the east coast’s glory.
All of the albums on this list are not only known for their impact at the time, but for their retroactive value and impact as well. Out of all five albums that I will end up talking about when all is said and done, Illmatic has had the biggest subsequent impact of them all. There are many that consider this the finest hip hop record in the genre’s storied and fruitful history, and it, of course, launched the career of one of the most consistent and celebrated rappers to ever grace this fantastic genre. Many articles, publications and institutions have repeatedly lauded this piece of sonic perfection, and it is even one of four albums that Harvard University, with the expertise of producer 9th Wonder, have chosen to preserve in their library (the others are A Tribe Called Quest’s The Low End Theory, Lauryn Hill’s The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill, and Kendrick Lamar’s modern-day masterpiece To Pimp A Butterfly).
While every single album on this list is amazing and timeless, Illmatic is quite possibly the one that has shaped hip hop the most and has created a legacy that will continue to be studied and analyzed.
Sean “Puffy” Combs is not a name that hip hop purists often look upon with a favorable attitude. While he can take the majority of the blame in ushering in the “shiny suit era” in the latter half of the 1990s (which subsequently caused a fissure in hip hop from which it would never recover), he played an integral part in one of the most important albums in the east coast renaissance. As an A&R for Uptown Records, Puffy was responsible for discovering new talent and bringing them to the label. Despite one gigantic discovery, he was fired from Uptown in 1993, and would end up starting his own record label. The gigantic discovery that Uptown effectively passed up was Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn’s Notorious B.I.G., who also had ties severed to the label when Puffy was fired. Biggie’s debut was even partially finished during the firing; Puffy took it upon himself to see through the completion of the album, starting his own record label, Bad Boy Records.
There will be plenty of time to criticize Puffy later, but let’s be honest: had he not had the persistence to start Bad Boy and finish Biggie’s debut, a major part of the renaissance may have never come to fruition. After much determination and persistence by Puffy and Biggie, Ready to Die was finally finished in mid-1994, and was released in September of that year, the first of many records to be released on Bad Boy in the next decade or so. Puffy and Biggie re-recorded a number of tracks from the Uptown sessions, and brought in up-and-coming Brooklyn producer Easy Mo Bee to handle the majority of the production duties. In addition, they were able to recruit legend-in-the-making DJ Premier in between his work on Gang Starr albums and Illmatic, as well as highly-talented Bronx producer and D.I.T.C. co-founder Lord Finesse to round out the album, among a few other lesser-known names.
The album continued the formula of what Wu-Tang did on their debut (the appearance of Method Man on “The What” strongly points to the possibility that Puffy, Biggie and Easy Mo Bee were studying 36 Chambers), and brought raw, gritty beats, though they were a bit more refined in places than on Wu-Tang’s debut. Puffy always had an ear for stardom and would begin to develop his hit-making skills here on cuts like “Juicy” and “Big Poppa”, both of which would go on to be two of hip hop’s most celebrated tracks of all-time.
But it’s obvious who the real star was here: Biggie himself. He immediately established himself as a lyrical titan after a couple of years bouncing around the club/underground circuits in New York in the early 1990s. During that same time, there’s little doubt that he wasn’t contributing to the wild, violent, drug-ridden streets of New York City 30 years ago, and this is made quite clear in his lyrical content. Additionally, his intricate rhyme schemes, use of eyebrow-raising punchlines, and ability to flow better than almost anyone to touch a mic to that point in hip hop history made, and still make, this an unreal album to listen to.
Biggie offered a no-holds-barred look at street life and hustling on tracks such as “Things Done Changed”, “Gimme the Loot”, and “Everyday Struggle”. And while “Juicy” and “Big Poppa” are well-constructed party anthems, Biggie gets as dark as they come on “Warning”, “Ready to Die”, and the absolutely jaw-dropping final track “Suicidal Thoughts”, on which he fictionally puts a bullet in his head at the end of the song — it still gives me chills to this day that one of the last things you hear on this album is the sound of a body dropping.
Ready to Die was a smashing success for Bad Boy and essentially gave it legs to stand on. The label would go on to churn out many more influential hip hop albums, some of them incredibly polarizing, through the rest of the 90s and into the new millennium. Biggie carved his individual legacy on this record, and would go on to make a number of high-profile guest appearances in the following few years, skyrocketing himself to the summit of hip hop’s highest reaches through the middle 1990s. Even after his untimely murder in 1997, likely a direct result of the east coast-west coast feud that Bad Boy was right in the middle of, he still remains one of the most massive names in hip hop history and is one of the most celebrated rappers over hip hop’s nearly 50-year existence. His follow-up Life After Death would be released a couple of weeks after his death, and also has had a massive impact on his legacy.
Ready to Die got it all started for Notorious B.I.G. The album is well-rounded, attention-grabbing, and continued to reinvent the burgeoning east coast sound that, by September 1994, had gained an insurmountable head of steam. Much like 36 Chambers and Illmatic, this album is a timeless classic that is still heavily celebrated and listened to today — rightfully so.
The four albums you’ve already read about were each their artists’ debut record. While the Wu-Tang Clan’s GZA had a solo album when the group’s debut dropped, he was the only one from the Wu-Tang Clan to put together a full-length record. Nas, Black Moon and Notorious B.I.G. were all newcomers with some singles on rotation before their albums dropped, but all didn’t have much experience in the music industry. However, our final entry, which appears as the final entry as it was chronologically the last breakthrough east coast renaissance record, is the only one here that is not a debut. In fact, the duo that put it out was among the youngest of any of these artists, but already had more experience than probably anyone else on this list.
The earliest beginnings of Mobb Deep date back to the late 1980s, as members Havoc and Prodigy met at Manhattan’s High School of Art & Design. Havoc was from a familiar place — the aforementioned Queensbridge, while Prodigy hailed from LeFrak City in central Queens by way of a few various towns in Nassau County, Long Island. At that time, the duo was known as Poetical Prophets, and were managed by Prodigy’s mother, who was a member of early 1960s doo-wop/girl group The Crystals, who had some massive hits in the days before rock music hit the mainstream.
The duo then known as Poetical Prophets would bounce around the lower reaches of the hip hop scene around the turn of the decade before almost giving it up. Prodigy, who was making noise on his own when he met Havoc, was offered a deal with Jive Records, but met Havoc soon after, and insisted that Jive sign them as a duo. Jive refused, and the duo were on their own. They never gave up, and in 1992, they changed their name to Mobb Deep. They would stand outside various record label headquarters throughout the city, pushing their demo tapes to other rappers and record execs that would come and go. The only one to take the time and give Mobb Deep a shot was none other than the aforementioned Q-Tip from A Tribe Called Quest; Q-Tip’s contribution to the foundation and legacy of Mobb Deep is massive, and must not be overlooked. On their own, Mobb Deep made some heads turn and even appeared in The Source in 1991. Because of this exposure, they were given a shot with 4th & B’way Records, and would record their debut album in 1992.
Juvenile Hell was released in early 1993 and while it was somewhat anticipated and had a couple of solid tracks, it was a flop commercially, and within a few months, they were dropped from 4th & B’way. Again, the Mobb thought about hanging it up, but due to the success of the aforementioned “Protect Ya Neck” and Wu-Tang Clan’s masterful debut on the newly-formed Loud Records, they were in the right place at the right time, as the label was expanding and looking to sign more hardcore artists. Mobb Deep fit the mold perfectly and signed a deal with Loud, and were ready to write and release their next record.
This was an unbelievably pivotal time for the duo, a time which would in fact end up shaping the darkest and most unforgiving reaches of underground hip hop forever. They re-branded their sound after the somewhat commercial vibe that existed on Juvenile Hell, and decided to work with the same formula that allowed Wu-Tang to explode: hard, guttural beats, and tales of street life and despair. Secured on Loud’s ever-growing roster, they pumped out the promotional single “Shook Ones” in mid 1994 (this is NOT the song that would make them so famous; this is an earlier, more stripped-down version) which started to build them some clout and anticipation as they entered the studios to record their next album.
The recording and business part of making an album was nothing new to Mobb Deep, and as a result, they had enough experience and skill by this time to self-produce most of the album, despite the fact that both Havoc and Prodigy turned 20 during the album’s recording. Out of 13 songs, 10 of them were credited listing “Mobb Deep” as producers; most of the beats were done in Havoc’s apartment in Queensbridge and his grandmother’s apartment in nearby Ravenswood Houses, also in Long Island City. As for the other three beats, Q-Tip would come in and provide a slightly more upbeat and crisper flavor, which retrospectively makes this album even more unique. In addition, Tip, who was between A Tribe Called Quest albums at the time, would end up mastering the entire album and providing his creative influence.
The result of all of this is what is undoubtedly one of hip hop’s great masterpieces, The Infamous. It’s usually not seen in quite the same class as Enter the Wu-Tang or Illmatic, but it absolutely deserves to be right there. By the time the album came out in April 1995, the east coast renaissance had been underway for about a year and a half, so if there’s one thing that may keep some from listing it at the top, it’s probably this. The Infamous wasn’t quite as trail-blazing as either of those other two albums, but what it did do was take the gritty formula that blazed trails and was perfected by Wu-Tang and Nas, and upped the ante.
Another thing that makes most of these albums so special is that other than perhaps Ready to Die, these records had very little filler. The Infamous is no exception and every track is an absolute classic. This hard-as-nails masterpiece starts actually on a calm note, with Havoc and Prodigy making their introduction over a relatively calm and cerebral beat on “The Start of Your Ending (41st Side)”. After an interlude that somehow ended up pissing off Keith Murray and Def Squad and led to a conflict, “Survival of the Fittest” comes in with an unbelievable energy and really makes a statement that the Mobb are dark, violent, and not taking any shit. The piano loop on this track is one of the most haunting things I’ve ever heard.
While Mobb Deep did most of the work themselves here, it’s the strategic use of guest appearances that really throw this album into the stratosphere. Between Q-Tip’s production work and some of the guest verses dropped, it’s a perfect complement and an integral part of the legacy of The Infamous. “Eye for an Eye (Your Beef is Mines)” features a stunning guest spot by Nas and also includes a Raekwon appearance, as The Chef drops one of best verses of all-time. As if Nas and Raekwon weren’t enough, the beat is a work of art. After another interlude, things soften up with the brilliantly-produced “Give Up the Goods (Just Step)”, which introduces core member Big Noyd to the world and gives us our first glimpse at a Q-Tip beat. “Temperature’s Rising” is a fantastic and emotional ode to Havoc’s brother, who was on the run from police and would end up committing suicide not long after the song’s release. Q-Tip and Mobb Deep handle the beat here, and singer Crystal Johnson gives a great vocal performance on the hook.
“Up North Trip” and “Trife Life” show just how great the Mobb was at storytelling. “Q.U. — Hectic” is probably the most underrated Mobb Deep song of all-time, featuring an unbelievable saxophone sample and a haunting, swirling low-range keyboard/synth sample as Prodigy and Havoc pay homage to their home borough of Queens. “Right Back at You” sees Raekwon again, this time trading bars with Ghostface Killah and Big Noyd. “Cradle to the Grave” is one of the darkest songs Mobb Deep has ever done (which is REALLY saying something), as they plot a murder, even showing remorse to the victim and his family before the killing is carried out. Things soften up again quickly with “Drink Away the Pain (Situations)” as Q-Tip gets back on the boards and this time on the mic, with he, Havoc and Prodigy comparing alcohol and clothes to being in love, one of the album’s most whimsical and creative moments.
And then, seemingly out of nowhere, what is arguably the best hip hop song of all-time comes across your speakers. “Shook Ones (Part II)” is sonic perfection, featuring unbelievable storytelling and punchlines, especially by Prodigy, over one of the most cleverly-flipped samples of all-time (see how Havoc did it here). This is the song that led the way for Mobb Deep as they made their way into the middle 1990s and joined the renaissance in full force. This song was exploding speakers all over New York as early as 1994, and brought international fame to Mobb Deep after the album’s release. It is among the most influential songs in hip hop history, and among the most widely quoted and sampled. It almost single-handedly carved Mobb Deep’s legacy and taught hip hop to embrace its dark side. It’s a noir-rap masterpiece, and one of the first hip hop songs with such a somber disposition to succeed.
I could write an entire dissertation on “Shook Ones (Part II)” and its place in hip hop, music and New York City’s history, but I’m running low on coffee and I have other things to do today. Instead, I’ll mention the album’s closer, “Party Over”, which acts as a fantastic last call of sorts and somehow manages to keep the listener engaged and entertained after the perfect climax of the album’s magnum opus. It’s a bit of a dark party jam with Big Noyd providing what may be his best verse ever. The track fades out with some shoutouts, and just like that, The Infamous comes to a glorious conclusion.
Mobb Deep would stay successful one way or another for pretty much the rest of their career, building entirely off of the rock-solid foundation that is The Infamous. Their follow-up, Hell on Earth, is also among the finest hip hop records of the 90s. They’d see commercial success around the turn of the millennium, and after signing with Queens cohorts 50 Cent and G-Unit in 2003, their artistic quality would decline, though album sales remained strong. And despite a few moments of drama in the social media age, Mobb Deep would stay together until Prodigy’s sudden passing on June 20, 2017 due to complications with sickle cell disease which he had battled his entire life. To me, the loss of Prodigy is one of the most tragic, sudden and most gutting losses of an artist I love that I can ever remember.
It was not all in vain. Prodigy, perhaps fueled by his lifelong pain from sickle cell, had an unbelievable career with his compatriot Havoc by his side until the end. The duo luckily worked through the ups and downs of the music industry before gaining the traction to make The Infamous, a record that would turn their lives and careers around while changing hip hop forever.
By the time The Infamous had rounded things out in mid-1995, it was obvious that New York had taken things back — in fact, Snoop Dogg and Death Row Records got a little in their feelings at the ’95 Source Awards over New York’s success, also perpetuated by the conflict between Notorious B.I.G. and 2Pac. Mafioso rap began to emerge out of the renaissance, with Raekwon’s Only Built 4 Cuban Linx… and Nas’s follow-up to Illmatic, It Was Written, following a very distinct theme that had been introduced by both MC’s on their guest spots from The Infamous. GZA’s Liquid Swords, Ghostface Killah’s Ironman, Capone-N-Noreaga’s The War Report and even the aforementioned Hell on Earth by Mobb Deep would further the renaissance’s progress, which for a few years became the gold standard in east coast hip hop.
After Notorious B.I.G.’s success with Ready to Die, Puff Daddy’s eyes quickly turned to dollar signs, and eventually was responsible for ushering in the shiny suit era/re-commercialization of hip hop by 1997. After the deaths of 2Pac and Notorious B.I.G. in 1996 and 1997 respectively, hip hop would hit a fork in the road. While New York would effectively turn its back on the renaissance and hip hop became more of a cash cow than ever before, things quieted down on the west coast for a few years. A notable underground scene was emerging in New York and other cities by this time.
At the same time, hip hop became less New York and LA-centric, with droves of artists rising out of the San Francisco Bay Area, Chicago, Detroit, Philadelphia, northern New Jersey, Houston, Atlanta and Memphis. The underground became way more prominent in all areas as a response to the increasing commercialization of the genre, taking cues from Enta da Stage in some aspects. But unfortunately, a lot of the magic that existed in Illmatic, Enter the Wu-Tang and The Infamous was gone, and overall, hip hop became vaster and more watered down, though the emergence of the underground scene in New York and elsewhere in the late 1990s is directly attributable to all of the albums mentioned in this list.
Eras are classified as eras for a reason. They are temporary and indicative of a certain set of circumstances that shape something in a historical context. The east coast renaissance of the middle 1990s was a special era in hip hop and was an impressive comeback story, especially coming out of a city that had been through hell and back with the crack epidemic and crime wave that had dominated for roughly 15 years prior. It’s a reminder that out of all pain, struggle and suffering comes art and productivity when put in the hands of the right individuals. RZA, Nas, Prodigy, Method Man, Biggie, Buckshot, Havoc, GZA, Raekwon, Ghostface, 5 Ft. Accelerator and everyone else involved with these five projects each played an important role in a remarkable era.
As a hip hop head and lover of the east coast’s mid 90s resurgence, it sure is cool to be in the place that inspired it all. I’ve learned just how vastly different New York City is today than it was 25 or more years ago, but you can still feel the energy of the renaissance here, from the fashion, slang, attitude, and even the beats you still routinely hear bumping out of cars.
The east coast renaissance is a bygone era, but it’s one of hip hop’s most important stretches. Its massive impact simply cannot be summed up in one article — I hope I’ve at least done it some justice.
Whether or not that’s the case, this was one hell of a fun write-up. Thanks for reading.
