Rabid hip hop fans have always been notorious for elevating a merely good record to ‘classic’ status, whether it’s due to the date of its release, the iconic status of the artist whose name is on the cover, or for personal reasons never to be determined. I suppose it depends on one’s definition of ‘classic,’ but when heads are throwing the word around, I don’t know, a DMX disc, it’s hard to deny that it tends to cheapen its meaning. And when it comes to many first-golden-era albums, many fans who apply those classic tags liberally – and I’m just as guilty of this – conveniently overlook that “I Need Love” jam or some other new jack nonsense nestled somewhere in side two. Here are ten ‘classics’ from the first golden age (roughly ‘88-’92) that came to mind who have been able to disguise their ugly little secrets better than others.

Big Daddy Kane “To Be Your Man” It’s a Big Daddy Thing Cold Chillin’ 1989

From the outset of his career Big Daddy Kane was unable to drop a full-length that didn’t showcase, if only for a track or two, his ridiculous ‘lover man’ persona, from “The Day You’re Mine” off debut Long Live the Kane (1988) on through the majority of his career-extinguishing Prince of Darkness (1991). From an MC whose albums were a mess of contradictions anyway, it was a perfectly natural and accepted peculiarity of a man who preached positive Afrocentricity on one cut then bragged about pimping women on another, whose devastating battle rhymes were frequently interrupted by embarrassing slow jam intermissions. I guarantee that if the dub-inflected “To Be Your Man” was removed from the track sequence of the already-overlong It’s a Big Daddy Thing (1989), not a single individual would complain. Every musical element of this song is so horribly dated and just plain wrong, from the level of reverb on the painfully out-of-tune crooning by guests Blue Magic to the clunky drum programming. Even worse is hearing Kane discover the pitch wheel while playing a synthetic bell sound, emitting a whining frequency similar to slowly letting the air out of a helium balloon; it’s one of the most distasteful and inappropriate things I’ve ever heard. Further proof that Kane should have spent more time waxing lyrical on the mic than constructing lightweight love patter behind the boards.

“To Be Your Man” – Big Daddy Kane 5:46 (It’s a Big Daddy Thing, Cold Chillin’ 1989)

Boogie Down Productions “Nervous” By All Means Necessary Jive 1988

I remain firm in my belief that “My Philosophy” is the greatest five minutes in the history of hip hop (G Rap’s “Men at Work” coming in a close second), and while I’ll always adore By All Means Necessary (1988), I’ve never understood the point of “Nervous,” which closes the first side of the record. It’s the very definition of album filler, an easy means to bump up the number of cuts on the record to a tidy ten. Over a throwaway electro beat, KRS gives various shout-outs and explains the intricacies of a 48-channel mixer between long and repeated howls of the song’s title, which becomes mildly grating by the second minute or so. So what does it mean to get “nervous”? Is it a dance move? One of The Teacher’s many styles of vocal delivery? Does it have something to do with the technique of “breaking down” a track? I doubt I’ll ever figure it out. The only certainty I can rely on has been my habitual skipping of this song since my eleven-year-old hands first picked up a copy of the record.

“Nervous” – Boogie Down Productions 4:12 (By All Means Necessary, Jive 1988)

Brand Nubian “Try to Do Me” One for All Elektra 1990

“Try to Do Me” has haunted me for years, a festering, malignant growth of new jack garbage on an otherwise near-perfect record and proof positive that Grand Puba’s ego could have benefited from a serious checking during the One for All (1990) sessions. One of the earliest productions of Dave Hall (who went on to work with Mary J. Blige and Mariah Carey), the track sounds like an outtake from a late-’80s Full Force LP, its hard-swinging groove and clichéd R&B hook establishing an ugly contrast on an album dominated by dusty and lo-fi Soul loops. Puba doesn’t necessarily sound out of his element here, although he doesn’t seem entirely comfortable in this setting either as he routinely disses a girl who’s trying to play him. Wisely – and certainly tellingly – Sadat and Jamar are nowhere to be found in this shameful spectacle.

“Try to Do Me” – Brand Nubian 4:20 (One for All, Elektra 1990)

EPMD “It’s Time 2 Party” Unfinished Business Priority 1989

Odd how Erick Sermon and Parrish Smith are perhaps best known for pioneering the rough and rugged, slower-tempo productions that would characterize much of early-’90s hip hop, yet hip-house bullshucks like “It’s Time 2 Party” from their much-anticipated sophomore release Unfinished Business (1989) somehow got the duo’s seal of approval. Admittedly, to EPMD’s credit, the track is the sole responsibility of their studio engineer Ivan “Doc” Rodriguez, constructed presumably as a late-night exercise to ward off boredom while the uninspired pair sluggishly added content to their rhyme books. The final result is nothing short of disastrous. Sermon, whose signature speech impediment prevented him from participating in any track over 100 bpm, sounds nearly unintelligible here. Parrish handles the awkward dance rhythm slightly better, but couldn’t appear more disinterested in what’s going on around him. It’s still mind-boggling that this track is culled from the same record that produced “So What Cha Sayin’” and “Get the Bozack,” and if there was ever a stronger case for the utilization of the programmable skip feature on the modern CD player, I’d like to hear about it.

“It’s Time 2 Party” – EPMD 4:36 (Unfinished Business, Priority 1989)

Kool G Rap & DJ Polo “The Polo Club” Wanted: Dead or Alive Cold Chillin’ 1990

“The Polo Club” is another hip-house concoction that contributes immensely to the loss of momentum toward the tail end of Kool G Rap & DJ Polo’s otherwise outstanding second outing Wanted: Dead or Alive (1990). The track appears to be little more than an excuse for Polo to practice his scratch technique over a tired 4/4 dance rhythm, as his rhyme partner had likely vacated the premises long before the tape was cued. A few random samples and some tired “go!” chanting comprise most of the substance here, but the whole track is immediately forgotten seconds after the fade. My theory is that this steaming pile was the catalyst for G Rap’s solo career, considering Polo was all but absent from the following Live and Let Die (1992) LP, which happened to be the last release with the DJ’s name on the cover.

“The Polo Club” – Kool G Rap & DJ Polo 4:04 (Wanted: Dead or Alive, Cold Chillin’ 1990)

L.L. Cool J “Illegal Search” Mama Said Knock You Out Def Jam 1990

Uncle L.’s Mama Said Knock You Out (1990) was one of the first CDs I ever purchased, and up until the second-to-last selection on the disc, I could hardly contain my excitement for how good it was. Then the bouncy, cheese-ridden beat for “Illegal Search” kicked in and crushed my young and naive impressions in a heartbeat. Granted, we’re talking about the purveyor of instant mood-killers like the aforementioned “I Need Love” and cornball pap like “You’re My Heart,” so I shouldn’t have been surprised, but L.L. came so close to a solid TKO with this record. When old-school heads begin rambling on about how producer Marley Marl never put a foot wrong in his career, kindly point their attention in the direction of this asinine rubbish. I can’t recall another song about police harassment in the rap canon that’s this irritatingly peppy (compare with, say, Jeru the Damaja’s dark “Invasion” or even BDP’s almost playful “Who Protects Us from You?”).

“Illegal Search” – L.L. Cool J 4:34 (Mama Said Knock You Out, Def Jam 1990)

Naughty by Nature “Rhyme’ll Shine On” Naughty by Nature Tommy Boy 1991

To reiterate what Dan Love has declared on this site: few acts in hip hop balanced on the fine line between street credibility and mainstream appeal better than Naughty by Nature. It’s hardly surprising that I much preferred Treach’s hardcore verbal threats on cuts like “Yoke the Joker” and “The Hood Comes First,” but I was just as enthralled with “O.P.P.” as any other fellow middle-schooler at the height of the single’s popularity. The group’s self-titled debut contained battle cuts and party rhymes in equal measure, but “Rhyme’ll Shine On,” went a little too far in the direction of the latter. It’s not as entirely awful as some of the above selections, but recycling the same beat that Rakim made famous on “I Know You Got Soul” (and – let’s not forget – Salt-N-Pepa’s “Let’s Talk About Sex”) is strike one, “I like a party, over-pumped and lovely” is strike two, and Aphrodity’s embarrassing channeling of the Isley Brothers during the bridge is strike three. By the end of the track one begins longing for Vinnie’s foul mouth come in and crash the PG-rated party. Conveniently nestled into the forgettable waters of the back end of side two, I’m betting the group doesn’t get too many requests to perform this one live.

“Rhyme’ll Shine On” – Naughty by Nature 3:56 (Naughty by Nature, Tommy Boy 1991)

N.W.A. “Something 2 Dance 2″ Straight Outta Compton Priority 1988

I was going to include N.W.A.’s hilariously ill-suited “Express Yourself” on this list until I remembered “Something 2 Dance 2,” the last cut on the CD release of Straight Outta Compton (1988) and easily the quickest way to get any of the remaining members of the group to cover their faces in shame if played today – read: Dre, as Cube and Ren hadn’t joined yet. His unaccompanied request that proceeds the track is just the beginning in what can only be described as a train wreck subdivided into semi-coherent rhythmic components, with a synthetic cowbell pattern to boot. Atop a bed of stale 808 drums, the group banter back and forth and trade lines, U.T.F.O.-style, about how to best construct the backing track for maximum dancibility, or as Arabian Prince puts it, to “feel the groove, bust a move.” Really, the lack of effort put forth into this borders on comical. Obviously, the still-developing group hadn’t yet slipped into the personification of conservative white America’s nightmare, but that still doesn’t explain the inclusion of something this disposable on their momentous opening volley to the record-buying public.

“Something 2 Dance 2” – N.W.A. 3:32 (Straight Outta Compton, Priority 1988)

Public Enemy “I Don’t Wanna Be Called Yo Niga” Apocalypse 91… The Enemy Strikes Black Def Jam 1991

There’s a chief reason (among a slew of others) why I consider Apocalypse 91… The Enemy Strikes Black (1991) the weakest in Public Enemy’s trilogy of cultural terror at the turn of the ’90s: its incorporation of two of Flavor Flav’s weakest solo features in the track sequence. “I Don’t Want to Be Called Yo Niga” is a side one pace-killer that the record never fully recovers from, a massive blunder that crushes the momentum of the air-siren intensity of opener “Lost at Birth,” the punishing claustrophobia in “Nighttrain,” and the head-nodding bounce of “Can’t Truss It.” Over a greasy guitar loop that quickly wears out its welcome by the end of the first minute, Flav and a nameless, nearly tone-deaf R&B hook-chanter gleefully recite their ode to the dreaded N-word like a couple of idiots who’ve just discovered how fun it is to say. Flavor’s verses are as clumsy and awkward as expected, but fortunately, its brevity is its only blessing as the song begins fading shortly after the three-minute mark for a poetic, matter-of-fact interlude by Chuck D, who brings some much-needed gravity to the proceedings. Try programming this cut (and “A Letter to the New York Post,” for that matter) out of the sequencing and hear how much better the record benefits in lieu of their omission.

“I Don’t Wanna Be Called Yo Niga” – Public Enemy 4:23 (Apocalypse 91… The Enemy Strikes Back, Def Jam 1991)

Slick Rick “Teenage Love” The Great Adventures of Slick Rick Def Jam 1988

Slick Rick more or less admitted in Brian Coleman’s excellent Check the Technique (2007) (covered here) that “Teenage Love” from The Great Adventures of Slick Rick (1988) was intended to follow in the footsteps set by L.L.’s “I Need Love,” although to his credit, this artistic decision wasn’t entirely his. Sure, it’s a pretty worthless little slice of rap balladry, but one can’t help but laugh at how corny it really is, like when that cheesy slap bass enters at 0:36 followed by a “bust this,” or employing a gated sample of Rick pleading “don’t hurt me again” for the hook. I could give this one a so-bad-it’s-good pass considering that it was actually a single, but then again, we’re talking about the same record that houses “Children’s Story,” “Treat Her Like a Prostitute,” and “Indian Girl,” hall-of-fame contenders that the still-aging “Teenage Love” can’t stand parallel to.

“Teenage Love” – Slick Rick 4:53 (The Great Adventures of Slick Rick, Def Jam 1988)