Legends by Chris Studer
- “Still Dre” by Dr. Dre ft. Snoop Dogg
“Still Dre” is top of the list for me for a number of reasons. For one, it’s one of the most iconic beats in rap ever, instantly recognizable to millions (billions?) of people all over the world. The piano piece was written by Scott Storch, one of a handful of prolific white artists in a genre dominated by Black musicians — just goes to show that there are so many things in this world where stereotypes may surprise you, and how talent transcends things like race, gender identity, religion, sexual orientation, etc.
But the main reason why this is number one for me is the story of the lyrics. Once the beat was done, Snoop Dogg and the D.O.C. tried but failed to come up with the words. So they asked Jay-Z, who flew in, and wrote the entire song — Dre’s parts and Snoop’s parts — in half an hour. Even more significant is the period of time: 1999 was just years after the East Coast — West Coast beef had come to a head with the murders of Tupac and Notorious B.I.G., who were each extremely close friends of Dr. Dre and Jay-Z, respectively. For one of the most iconic East Coast rappers, to have been asked by, and to have agreed to do this with, two of the most iconic West Coast rappers, is amazing, given that context.
Jay-Z and Snoop Dogg have both since talked about how remarkable and special that was (here, and here) for Jay-Z to write lyrics that remain so unapologetically “Dre”, which they both chalk up to the mutual respect between the artists.
“Dr. Dre is the name / I’m ahead of my game / Still puffin’ my leafs / Still f*ck with the beats / Still not loving police / Still rock my khakis with a cuff and a crease / Still got, love for the streets, reppin’ 213”
“Kept my ear to the streets / signed Eminem / He’s triple platinum, doing 50 a week / Still, I stay close to the heat / And even when I was close to defeat, I rose to my feet / My life’s like a soundtrack I wrote to the beat”
“I’ll break your neck / damn near put your face in your lap / Ni**as try to be the king / but the ace is back”
Those lyrics truly sound like they came from Dr. Dre’s heart, eliciting all of the defiant emotion of being forced to leave behind everything he’d built at Death Row, to then taking a huge gamble by signing a white rapper to his new label, despite everybody telling him it would cost him his career, and now letting the world know that with this album, “The Chronic 2001”, the Ace is Back.
Incredible music, incredible writing, incredible piece of Black music trivia and history.
2. “Solo” by Frank Ocean
As a musician myself, there’s a lot of music I understand. That’s not to say I could have written it, or that I could even play it necessarily; just that I understand it, and can get my head into why a riff was written a certain way, or why a lyric was sung to hit a certain note. But some of the songs I love the most are songs where I have no idea where any of it comes from. For me, Frank Ocean’s “Solo” is like that.
The whole song is almost like a stream-of-consciousness piece of art, like Frank Ocean has tapped into this otherworldly energy, and he’s decided to just let all of his thoughts pour out of him in no particular order. But then at the same time, the melodies are beautiful and intricate and incredibly technical, sung with ultimate precision. That’s actually how he was when I saw him in concert too: wandering around the stage, singing unbelievable melodies almost casually; but he also stopped and restarted one of his songs completely, because he thought that he hadn’t sang the beginning perfectly. Frank Ocean. Gotta love him.
3. “Killing Me Softly With His Song” by The Fugees, Mrs. Lauryn Hill
How could this not be on the list? Lauryn Hill’s beautiful rendition of Roberta Flack’s classic, overtop of a stripped down, crackle-and-fuzz bass and drums beat. So much soul. Feels retro, but also 90s, but also timeless. Nothing more needs to be said, really.
4. “Jail” & “Come To Life” by Ye
The man who just changed his name from “Kanye West” to simply “Ye”; whose genius and demons have been on public display for years, for better and for worse. Someone who has made personal choices that many of his fans — myself included — have been disappointed by, especially recently. But for his music contributions, and social commentary as a Black artist, he’s on my list.
While “Graduation” and “My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy” are what most would consider his perfect albums (“Homecoming”, “The Glory”, “Good Morning”, “Flashing Lights”, “Stronger”, “Can’t Tell Me Nothin’”, “The Good Life”, “Power”, “Monster”, “Gorgeous”, “All Of The Lights”), and “808s & Heartbreak” his most influential album, these two songs from Donda both felt like masterpieces that captured the two sets of themes that to me have defined a lot of Ye’s work: on the one hand, defiance, confidence, creativity, Black pride, courage; but also sadness, reflection, loss, shame, vulnerability, regret.
“I been in the dark for so long / Night is always darkest ‘fore the dawn / Gotta make my mark before I’m gone / I don’t wanna die alone / I don’t wanna die alone / Ever wish you had another life? / Praying for a change in your life”
Releasing a beautiful body of work, after the breakup of his family. Ye wears his heart on his sleeve, and this album felt as raw in emotion as “Hey Mama.”
5. “Gimme Shelter” by The Rolling Stones and Mary Clayton & “Sweet Home Alabama” by Lynyrd Skynyrd and Mary Clayton
Yes, I know that The Rolling Stones are not Black. Lynyrd Skynyrd are definitely not Black. But I’m putting these in here for Mary Clayton, who for me is a Black icon in music who doesn’t always get the credit she deserves. If you’re a music lover, and you haven’t watched “20 Feet From Stardom”, I highly recommend doing so. The documentary profiles prolific back-up singers throughout history, most of them Black, and the triumphs and challenges they faced in their careers.
Mary Clayton’s stories, and her commentary, are some of my favorites. With “Gimme Shelter”, Mary Clayton got out of bed in the middle of the night to deliver one of the most powerful vocal solos in rock history, starting at 2:42, with her voice cracking at 2:59 as she goes up the octave. “[The Rolling Stones] said ‘Do you wanna do another [take]?’ And I said ‘Sure, I’ll do another one.’ And I said to myself ‘Mmhmm — I’m gonna do another one and I’m gonna blow them out of this room.” Goosebumps stuff.
After going back and forth on whether to accept the gig, Mary decided to accept the invitation to sing on “Sweet Home Alabama”, a white, southern-pride anthem, as a means of protest. “It was like… Sweet Home Alabama? Uh huh. We got your Sweet Home Alabama right here. We gon’ sing it anyways… and we gon’ sing the crap out of you.” Every time someone listens to this song, every time it hits 2:40, they hear a Black icon; they hear one of the most powerful Black singers in history. As Mary Clayton puts it, “My way of being an activist… was through the music.”
6. “Signed, Sealed, Delivered” & “Superstition” by Stevie Wonder
These songs are in my opinion Stevie’s most fun-to-sing-along-to song, and his funkiest, most-fun-to-play song. “Signed, Sealed, Delivered” is just classic, upbeat, timeless Motown. Amazing back-ups too, especially at 2:09. So good.
And “Superstition” I love especially as a drummer, because that’s actually Stevie Wonder on the drums! On top of singing lead, and playing the keys, of course (a riff he — casually — made up on the spot). Stevie being blind and such an amazing drummer (and keyboard player, and overall musician) just goes to show what a virtuoso he is. This clip from 1982 of Stevie doing a drum solo in Japan is incredible.
As someone who is a drummer, and not blind, it just blows my mind. Never doubt anybody due to ability, or perceived lack-thereof. A true icon of Black music, and music in general.
7. “Across 110th Street” by Bobby Womack
I love everything about this song. The opening is ominous and mysterious, like you’re being sucked into another world, a more dangerous world. The verses are the storytelling — fighting for a better life and for hope, against a backdrop of oppression, drugs, crime, policing, death. You can hear so many future hip hop storytellers (this was released in 1973) in these verses: Biggie, Tupac, Outkast, Jay-Z, Nas.
And then the chorus is massive — catchy and full of energy, but also haunting and emotional. Womack’s raspy voice is so powerful, and carries the entire song without any backup singers, especially the second chorus. I love the strings after the chorus (first heard at 1:44); as dramatic as a movie score, and it’s no surprise this song’s been used in a number of movies, including Ridley Scott’s American Gangster. An all-time classic, and a perfect song in my books.
8. “Izzo (H.O.V.A.)”, “December 4th,” and “Renegade” by Jay-Z
Jay-Z is one of my all-time favorite Black artists, no question, and these three songs, for me, embody the different elements of his career.
“Izzo (H.O.V.A.)” defines his swag, his attitude, his confidence, and the celebration and party and good times that is so much of Jay-Z’s music, with a timeless beat by Ye.
“December 4th” embodies Jay’s talents as a storyteller, overtop of a bold melody that reminds you of a homecoming football game montage. Intertwining clips of his mom reminiscing on his childhood, a perfect song to ‘say goodbye’ to hip hop, which the Black Album was initially meant to be.
But for me, “Renegade” exemplifies Jay-Z’s skill as a lyricist, with a masterful command of rhyming, phrasing, cadence, rhythm, and how to play on words. The emphasis he puts when he sings “the renegade / you been afraid / I penetrate / pop culture” at 0:39 — it’s like someone throwing left and right one-two punches, one after another, perfectly capturing the emotion of the song.
This song also has some of my favorite Jay-Z phrasing — no one does it quite like him, dragging one sentence overtop of the next, overlapping and blending rhymes in surprising ways. My favorite is the triplet at 2:54: “Do not step to me, I’m awkward / I box lefty / an orphan, my pops left me / and often, my momma wasn’t home”. Two thoughts, three lines, six rhymes. “Do not step to me, I’m awkward, I box lefty” is the first thought, and “an orphan, my pops left me, and often, my momma wasn’t home” is the second thought.
But he builds in six rhymes — step to me, lefty, left me, awkward, orphan, often — that both sound amazing, and also link the first thought with the second by reversing “my pops left me an orphan” into “an orphan, my pops left me”, like he’s Yoda, blending both thoughts and rhymes seamlessly. Textbook Jay-Z. “Just know I chose my own fate / I drove by the fork in the road and went straight.” Robert Frost “The Road Not Taken” meets “Hard Knock Life” — honestly, what’s not to love.
9. “What’d I Say, Pt. 1 & 2” — Ray Charles
Ray Charles improvised this song at the end of a live show, upon hearing that — despite having finished the full set-list — there was still some time left owed to the concert promoter. Everyone went wild, and the rest is history. Beyond being an incredible song, it’s also a feat of recording, somehow capturing that special live energy; like John Lennon giving “Twist & Shout” one more take, even though his voice was hoarse; or Kiss finally experiencing their breakthrough success by recording a live album. By 4:15, Ray Charles is showing off his gift of never hitting an off note, even when fully screaming, and you can’t help but feel it.
10. “All Along The Watchtower” & “Little Wing” by Jimi Hendrix
There’s a lot to love about Jimi Hendrix. Guitar solos like, “Voodoo Child”, blues-y classics like “Hey Joe”, high tempo and high energy hits like “Fire” that hit like a bullet train. But my favorites are the songs of his that just feel so cool and otherworldly, and these two are my favorites.
“All Along The Watchtower”, with its great Dylan writing, sounds like a King Arthur, Game-of-Thrones type epic tale, set in some alternative, electric dimension. And then “Little Wing” also feels like the door to another world; a more fantastical one, more gentle, sad but powerful. It’s a very short song; when I first heard it, that also seemed like part of the sadness of it — that it ends so soon, and the door closes so quickly.
