The second installment

Hey y'all, Thursday here.
Sorry for the delay, I have been swamped with work. Numbers 6-10 proved a lot more difficult than I had assumed, and the list is still tentative because of my ambivalence. 1-5 have always been somewhat unofficially solidified in my mind, but I could probably squeeze 20 albums into these last 5 spots.

Without further ado, numbers 6-10 of MY top 10 hip-hop albums of all time:

10. Operation: Doomsday (1999) - MF DOOM
Many DOOM fans will tell you that his collaboration work is far superior to his solo work. This is probably true (it's hard to make forgettable music when working with the likes Danger Mouse,Ghostface, Nas, Madlib, and J Dilla); I would go as far as to agree with these people. We could stay friends.
If that same said fan told me that MF DOOM's solo work was sub par, I would immediately begin to imagine a world where I had the ability to dislodge a tracheal ring, deliver a swift roundhouse kick to the cranium, or telepathically summon a flaming Peregrine Falcon; my Eden where everybody has select superpowers, Greg Ostertag is President (and world issues are resolved by international games of 1-on-1 or HORSE. Unfortunately, we almost always lose), familial theme songs are hereditary, and everybody appreciates the musical prowess of DOOM. In reality, I would probably just change the subject to avoid conflict.
I personally have always had a penchant for DOOM the rapper and DOOM the producer, and Operation: Doomsday is an ideal combination of the two. His flow on the album is more mature and less excited than it was circa KMD days, but it's not quite as ransom note-esque as it is on Madvillainy or MM..Food? The combination of the beats and delivery hint that a few drops of the old school influence were added to the Doomsday recipe.
This was DOOM's prime; his now signature, and kind of played-out, production style sounded fresh, he chose some pretty great songs to sample (The Beatles' "Glass Onion", Steely Dan's "Black Cow",Yusef Lateef's "Eastern Market", and various Scooby Doo sounds, among others), and his rhymes were, as always, complex, bizarre, fraught with pop icons, great, and true.
Be it by fate or sheer windfall (I suggest the latter, thereby solidifying the fact that I was chosen to write for this blog), I stumbled upon Operation: Doomsday while looking under MF Grimm's name for The Downfall of Ibliys: A Ghetto Opera (which didn't make this list) in the dilapidated Hip-Hop section of a nearby record store, and was about to put it back until an emaciated RickMoranis looking employee said in a prepubescent falsetto, "Oh, DOOM? He rules!" and then skittered around the corner, back to the depths of Mordor (thank G-O-D for record store disorganization and Dungeons and Dragons). Had it not been for a careless employee, a near-illiterate customer, or Nerdly McFanboy (you be the judge), this list would probably be short two MF DOOM albums. Cue the sighs of relief.

Recommended Track(s): Doomsday, Rhymes Like Dimes, ?, I Hear Voices, Part 1 (This track was replaced by Hero Vs. Villain (Epilogue) on any albums made after 2001).

9. Fishscale (2006) - Ghostface Killah
I can't say that I've ever fully understood a Ghostface song. He is arguably the second-best storyteller after Biggie, yet his songs have absolutely no coherence. His metaphors and similes make zero sense ninety-five percent of the time, but I love them. I used to hate Ghost. Used to think he was an idiot that would just rhyme one word with another regardless of their definitions. I was wrong. Listening to him during the Wu boom (Ironman and Supreme Clientele, mostly), it's pretty tough to decipher one phrase from the next, let alone understand each lyric. Now though, the diabetic Ghost has slowed his flow a few iotas and toned it down a nano-decibel, just enough so that we can begin to surmise that he is, in fact, following a parabolic storyline (intro, climax, resolution/death).
The production by, among others, J Dilla, MF DOOM, Pete Rock, and Just Blaze, basically makes the album, and this mishmash of styles yields surprisingly non-cacophonous results. Ghostface's predilection for soul samples (Marvin Gaye, Sly & the Family Stone) and cocaine (album title, the track Big Girl) stay unchanged, and the Wu alum proves that he can sure as hell still flow. Never has nonsense been so good.
No great story here, I downloaded Fishscale.

Recommended Track(s): The Champ, Big Girl, 9 Milli Bros.

8. Hell Hath No Fury (2006) - Clipse
Malice and Pusha T scare me shitless. Their days as coke and crack dealers (which their Grandma apparently got them into, according to "Intro" on their major label debut Lord Willin', which is also definitely worth copping) have left them perpetually sore and livid beyond their years. Over Neptunes-backed beats, brothers Gene (Malice) and Terrence (Pusha T) Thornton spit harsh rhymes reminiscing about their less fortunate days in Virginia Beach and their subsequent rise in the rap game.
People hate on Clipse because:
1. Their material is repetitive, "they only rhyme about coke and money". So did Jay-Z (flash back to the glorious pre-Beyonce days)* when he was the CEO of the ROC (hoooo). I even think that Clipse's cocaine allusions are more clever than HOV in his prime ("What's under the couch probably free up Santa", "The news call is crack, I call it diet coke", "I'm on top with the ki's (keys), move over Alicia", "Break down keys into dimes and sell 'em like gobstoppers").
2. "Their anger is predictable." So what? Their Mr. Wilson demeanor is something they're not going to change: it's how they flow. We love Ghostface's harangues even though he keeps his intensity at 11 on every album. We, for some reason, eat up Kanye's terrible same word rhymes (he also rhymed Gnarles Barkley with Charles Barkley). We extol Snoop Dogg and he will forever be on the rap pedestal because of Doggystyle and The Last Meal (neither of which made this list), and he made up half of the words on those albums. Clipse can rhyme damn well, so just make sure you have nothing to feel guilty about before listening to any of their albums.
3. "The Neptunes beats are weak". Yeah, I pretty much agree with you. Their beats are really good for one song, but an album saturated with electronic House-sounding tom hits and corny synth crescendos and decrescendos don't tickle my fancy. I've taught myself to take each track as its own entity, which certainly helps. As contradictory as it sounds: one song at a time, this album is perfect.
4. "Spanish Lee is fucking annoying." Yes.
I first listened to this album in the summer of 2006 on my sister's iPod. We were in Bumblesfuck, New Hampshire and she told me to check out the album; I did, and still am. Thanks, sis!

Recommended Track(s): We Got it For Cheap, Keys Open Doors, Trill.

7. Reasonable Doubt (1996) - Jay-Z
I admit that I like(d) The Blueprint better than Reasonable Doubt. Like with Nas, I experienced Hova anachronistically and suffered for it. I have a particular aversion to R&B heavy tracks, which Reasonable Doubt is pretty big into, so I never really gave this album a chance. It's pretty incredible. Young Jay-Z is one of the most creative and amusing rhymesters ever and he is beyond versatile in his delivery, which is how he has stayed relevant after myriad albums when so many who were with him in the beginning have since slowed down. He is arguably at his sharpest here, with his I-just-kick-it-from-my-head attitude, telling his standing on street corners to riding in Maybachs story.
I know this list is supposed to not touch upon how each rapper changed the game with an album, but I'm just gonna talk for a second about how Jay-Z changed the game with this album. As an insolent preteen, I kind of threw Jay-Z in with everybody else rapping about "selling drugs just to get by" for better (Biggie) or for worse (Master P) (just like I, for whatever reason, used to liken Aerosmith to The Rolling Stones when I was in elementary school. Please don't stop reading here), until I, a budding genius, realized that Jay-Z basically started that image. True, he was one of the bigger dealers in Trenton prior to dropping Reasonable Doubt, and people embraced him for it. All I'm saying is that I'd like to see how many of his spawn have actually dealt drugs in their lives (Jadakiss, anyone?). Also, who else has rapped about frugality so proudly ("Partner please, I'm still spending money from '88"), in the midst of an album about raking in dough?
I got Reasonable Doubt at a small record store in the town next to me when I was in early middle school. My Dad liked going there because the owner, a complete Thurston Moore wannabe, engaged him in long conversations and was obviously fascinated by his endless knowledge of music. There wasn't too much of a Hip-Hop section (the owner looked like Thurston Moore), so I leafed through it and was intrigued by Jay-Z's fedora. That sold me. I bought it, and then shelved it for five years after hearing Mary J. Blige wailing on "Can't Knock the Hustle", the album's first track. I forced myself to listen to it twice without stopping about four years back, and that's when I realized that I can't get enough.

Recommended Track(s): Can't Knock The Hustle (cover your ears during the chorus), Brooklyn's Finest (one of the best rap songs ever. With Biggie), Friend or Foe, D'Evils, Dead Presidents II.

6. Aquemini (1998) - OutKast

ATLiens occupied this spot until the last minute (see what I mean about my inability to make decisions and stick to them?) but I think, ultimately, Andre 3000's utter quirkiness being in full form straight from the get-go (his introductory monologue on "Return of the "G"" is still my second favorite, between Q-Tip's dropping of some serious knowledge on "Excursions", and Andre again on UGK's "Int'l Player's Anthem (I Choose You)) is what helped Aquemini eke it out. Listening to the album now, it's kind of weird to hear Andre 3000 actually rapping instead of love ballading. Also, he and Big Boi sound pretty similar (what really sets them apart is Andre's ridiculous intonation).

I like to think of Aquemini as the album that bridged the gap between Big Boi and Andre 3000's obvious different beat and material preferences. I usually see the duo's debut, Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik, as more of a brainchild of Big Boi, with most of the songs flaunting cruising in low-riders, southern pimping, and slowly sipping on gross Southern fortified liqueurs (for proof, watch Big Boi on Cribs and peep his cars and "Boom-Boom Room"). It's really a great album in its own respect, especially considering that they had just finished high school. The only downside to it is that it, along with the Geto Boys and Scarface, laid the foundation for Southern Hip-Hop, thus allowing "rappers" like Paul Wall, Mike Jones (Who?!), and, oh god, Lil' John to take over (and subsequently destroy, defame, and discredit) the sub-genre. ATLiens, though, is straight Andre all the way. The far out beats and absurd rhyme content could only come from the mind that reminded us that spaceships don't come equipped with rear-view mirrors (this idea has not yet fully been tarnished).

The fact that OutKast could combine über-different themes one one coherent album speaks volumes about the rappers themselves. Big Boi was incredible: intelligent, thoughtful, opinionated, and Andre was insane, but man can they rap. The combination of BB's relentless and unceasing flow with Andre's unique verse arrangement, which draws a lot from poetry-- it seems to be written almost in stanzas and is pretty heavy on enjambment-- makes each song incredibly diverse and exciting. Most of all, though, we can say this album is great because it is timeless. The way that Marquee Moon sounds like it could have been written two weeks ago, Aquemini will always seem eerily contemporary.

Recommended Track(s): Return of the "G", Rosa Parks, Skew it on the Bar-B, Aquemini, Da Art Of Storytellin' (both parts).

*I have a theory that there is a direct correlation between life stabilization, or the discovery of a constant, and the plummet of an artist's credibility within his or her genre: Jeff Tweedy kicked nagging a sleeping pill addiction and alcoholism, then he tricked Wilco into recording A Ghost is Born and Sky Blue Sky (hopefully just a foray into Dad Rock), Biggie found Faith, then came Life After Death (and death), Carrot top found Dr. 90210, rhinoplasty, steroids, and a personal trainer, and suddenly we no longer dream of beating him to a (carrot) pulp for Chairman of the Board or any of the other movies that he poisoned cinema with, but rather see him sprinting down the street, wielding a photon rifle in one hand and a syringe in the other. But that's neither here nor there.

Check out MY top 5 Hip-Hop albums here:
http://thesmokedmeatblog.blogspot.com/2008/11/hold-your-nose-here-comes-cold-water.html