Top 10 Best Hip-Hop Albums/Mixtapes of 2010

After a contentious 2009 melophobe hip-hop list drafting session, in which lines were drawn, crossed and then completely obliterated, 2010 brought a calm. Other than a few minor disputes, the below were the ten albums that rose to the top of each of our minds. Were we wrong to come to a conclusion so easily? What releases did we sleep on? Let us know what you think.

Das Racist’s second mixtape of the year, Sit Down, Man, is a rambling mess of an album, twenty tracks that lack solid narrative thread and sonic cohesion. The songs are littered with obscure references, familiar samples, and monologues that leave the fourth wall so broken that you forget it ever existed. Sit Down, Man is meta hip hop if ever there was such a thing; the fact that emcees Himanshu Suri and Victor Vazquez acknowledge the mixtape’s referential nature only serves to push it even further into the bizarre. “Do I talk shit at this part?” asks Heems at the beginning of “Hahahaha jk?” “Like…oh, the world didn’t see it coming?” He states it farcically, but it’s rooted in truth: We didn’t see it coming.

The subject matter of Sit Down, Man, which often delves into layered analysis of modern race relations, is about as heady a left turn as the pair could make, given the fact that their rise to prominence came hand-in-hand with the über-repetitive, low-brow tune “Combination Pizza Hut and Taco Bell.” But it’s that juxtaposition that keeps you on your edge as you listen to Das Racist, intent on deciphering allusions while bumping your head to the beat. The group is unfocused yet razor sharp, with lazily-delivered phrases often boiling down complex issues into simple statements.  Elsewhere, repetitive choruses provide hooks upon which Das Racist hangs disconnected musings. It’s a bit of a journey to make it through Sit Down, Man, but it’s worth it—these songs only improve with spins.

The sprawl that defines this album—indeed, this group—might be unmanageable in another context. Here, though, it’s an ideal mix; the freewheeling, off-the-cuff vibe fits Das Racist perfectly, allowing them to explore complex topics in a light-hearted mood. Sit Down, Man is one of the most original releases in hip hop this year, and Das Racist seem to be paving the way for innovative, Internet-based indie rap to become viable. It’s quite a feat, considering Suri and Vazquez’s confusion about their own intentions. On the aforementioned “Hahahaha jk?” they lay out their thoughts as articulately as ever: “We’re not joking, just joking, we are joking, just joking, we’re not joking.” No joke, though, this mixtape is baller. - Chris Barth

This here’s some gangsta’ shit! That phrase, a staple of Freddie Gibbs’ live show, aptly describes the Str8 Killa EP, Gibbs’ follow-up to two solid 2009 mixtapes. As with his mixtapes, Freddie Gibbs lyrics focus on stories and images of the streets that will put wherever you grew up to sleep. It’s gripping material, delivered with Gibbs’ now bulletproof flow. On Str8 Killa, whatever the beat, Freddie Gibbs owns it; it’s so impressive that despite a solid guestlist (Bun B, Chuck Inglish, Jay Rock), Gibbs outclasses them all. Unlike his previous work, which felt a bloated at time, this EP hits hard all the way through.  Or, as Gibbs puts it, “Str8 Killa No Filla.” - Joshua Bean

A decade since Talib and Tek unleashed Train of Thought, the pair has reunited with the solid Revolutions Per Minute. Bolstered by the success of last year’s mixtape The RE:Union, the album came with high expectations. Yet, the EP contains the most of the strongest moments of this LP (which makes it the Mumford and Sons of the hip-hop list). One of the strongest collabs of the year is on “Just Begun,” as Talib trades verses with Jay Electronica, J Cole, and Mos Def; but not so much for the misinformed pairing with Chester French on “Get Loose.” By now, you know what to expect from the combination of Hi-Tek and Talib Kweli: understated production and a flow that hesistates ever so slightly at the end of lines for rhyme and rhythmic effect. Just try not to smile with the consciously cunning lyric, “I’m back from my sabbatical/voice of the future, black radical/keeping all the damages collateral.” And for those late night sessions, a first for RE, give a spin of “Midnight Hour” as Estelle smooths out an infectious hook. Maybe nostalgia for those golden years has me overestimating the album, but it still sounds like gold in 2010. - Ian Doreian

Shad straddles the border of fluff-hop and consciousness. Oh, and he’s Canadian. This doesn’t sound like a promising mix for an album of the year, but in this recession depression era we need to have some hip hop that can put a smile to the face. Best known for a self-effacing presence, check his claim “I’m King Kong meets Vince Vaughn,” Shadrach Kabango often sounded sophomoric on prior albums- too many Pamela Anderson references. On TSOL, he proudly distances himself from these earlier efforts with rhymes that instruct through 3-minute history lessons filled with Hebrew slaves, Babylonian dictators and Rwandan hillsides. Strongest song by far, the cheeky bravado on “Yaa I Get It” proves that Shad knows that he is an odd fish in the rap game: a bit too positive, a bit too north for the American market. Listen shows that his flow has come a long way from quick punch lines, delivering lyrical stamina through non-stop verses. Shad is growing up on this album, and we welcome him to the club.  - Ian Doreian

Man on the Moon 2 is an album about disassociation and self inquiry. It’s about living in a state of flux; a place where our host is “trapped in his mind,” and unable to determine whether he wants to glorify what is bringing him down or condemn it. Sometimes Cudi is Mr. Rager - the grand reveler that is living out fame and all it’s trappings to the fullest. Other times, he is Scott - the part tasked with cleaning up the mess his other self has made. Created after a year of arrests and addiction, this album is Cudi’s way of saying “cocaine is a helluva drug,” but it’s also a huge leap forward in both his sound and structural evolution. Naked electronics, cavernous space bubbles, gutter pipe raps, sizzling hazes, electro-magnetic surges - each sound is a lure that pulls us further into his cortex and the drama that has ensnared it. And although it might not be the game-changer that we are all expecting out of him, it’s clear that he’s on his way there. - Colin McLaughlin

Historically, Slug’s greatest hits have always been against himself. Whether the trigger was relationships, taunts or just life in general, hip-hop’s reigning masochist has always seemed to succeed by dissecting the nature of his flaws. On this go-round though, something appears to have changed and for once he has created a great batch of songs that don’t need him up on a pike to sell themselves. Instead, he spends his bars going after health care or dispatching advice on how to get over on a bad day amidst a slew of sandpaper riffs and laid-back pianos. More optimistic, yes. Lovefest, no. Slug still slices at his opponents with all the aggression and toxic charisma he’s known for, he’s just gives the man in the mirror a day off. Which is smart, since no one likes a broken record. Just ask Eminem. - Colin McLaughlin

Chances are, if I had headphones on this summer, I was listening to Yelawolf. Trunk Muzik soundtracked about six months of my life, transporting me from the subway to the South on a daily basis. This was no slow-burning obsession; the first time I heard this mixtape, I was hooked. When Yeller’s official full-length debut dropped last month, it sparked some debate as to which of the two releases should be included on this list – after all, both rank among the year’s best. But in the end, we decided to side with our original love. While the LP has unmistakably better production quality, the edge goes to the mixtape and its hungry, ordered chaos. Simply put, this tape consumed me.

Every white rapper grapples with Eminem comparisons, and Yelawolf’s facile and fast flow will stoke that fire; it’s not accurate, though. Trunk Muzik is less an addition to Caucasian hip hop and more an expansion of Southern rap, an album that gives a head nod to the kings who have come before while proving that it hasn’t all been done before. Meth labs, barns, and box Chevys dominate Yelawolf’s landscape, a scenery switch from the city streets that often backdrop hip hop; over the course of the mixtape, Yelawolf becomes the definitive mouthpiece of an undertold story.

Many tracks from Trunk Muzik made it onto the LP – “Pop The Trunk,” “Trunk Muzik,” and Raekwon feature “I Wish” stand out – but there’s less bombast and more texture surrounding those tracks on the mixtape compared to the official full length. “The South is getting crunk again,” proclaims Yelawolf on a remix of Juelz Santana track “Mixin’ Up The Medicine,” and he’s right. This tape has the fresh hard knock swagger of a rough road turned toward great things, and Yelawolf’s in his box Chevy, throwing flames toward the future of hip hop.  - Chris Barth

Dear The Roots:

We had a falling out over Game Theory, and the recent band evolution. Call me resistant to change, but Cap’n Kirk? Can it be called The Roots without Hub on bass? And now, Joanna Newsom, Jim James, Conor Oberst, and M. Ward added to the line up? I admit, it was becoming hard to fess up that you were a favorite of mine.

Then I actually listened to How I Got Over, albeit a month after it was released. To my surprise, I liked it. Even with two tracks featuring those folk monsters, the album worked. This wasn’t some hipster, hanging around Jimmy Fallon kinda gimmickry. Nah, this was somehow an earnest sound that rescued my faltering feelings. Sure, there’s a heavier reliance on samples, but the 70’s fuzzy production (I imagine Dice Raw placing a velor jacket over microphones for the effect) brings a warmth to your sound that I had almost forgotten.

My heart swoons at the opening piano on “Walk Alone,” beating firm with ?uestlove’s boom bap strikes, head nodding to Blu’s casual delivery. Maybe that’s the key to this album: fresh MC voices. Anyway, I wanted to let you know that 2010 was kind to you and that it helped me get over my fears of ever enjoying a Roots album ever again. - Ian Doreian

For a long time, Big Boi was the forgotten half of Outkast – the reserved and traditional foil to Andre 3000’s flamboyant rakishness. Where 3 Stacks has largely disappeared in recent years, however, Big Boi has pushed himself to prominence, culminating (for now) with the release of his solo debut, Sir Lucious Left Foot: The Son Of Chico Dusty. While the album’s title seems to preface an autobiographical concept album introducing Big Boi as an individual, he thankfully skips past that unnecessary exposition and gets straight to the task at hand: Crafting the most concisely brilliant hip hop album of the year.

I say concisely brilliant because that is where Sir Lucious Left Foot bests its main competitor for hip hop’s best of 2010, My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy. While Kanye pushes the edges of hip hop out from the center, Big Boi works in the opposite direction, sculpting and packing his verses and hooks into an ever denser sphere of rap. With Sir Lucious at the helm, this album is a continuous stream of large and infectious songs, big beats and great guest spots serving to spotlight Big Boi’s longstanding excellence. Those searching for the singles that are missing from MBDTF would do well to dig into Sir Lucious Left Foot.

“Let’s be clear/I’m a leader, not your peer/valedictorian of this rap shit every year,” says Big Boi on “You Ain’t No DJ,” and he’s absolutely right. More than any other rapper at the top of the game, Big Boi has been unfairly overlooked; he has so consistently been on top of the genre that his bravado seems less like posturing and more like a public service announcement that you should listen up. Every song on this album is a banger, from slow burner “Tangerine” to the chatter of “Shutterbug,” and guest spots from the likes of Janelle Monae, Yelawolf, and B.o.B. show that Big Boi is ready to lead the way for the next generation. Don’t cross him off the list as an old head in hip hop, though – some how Big Boi seems like he’s just getting started. - Chris Barth

Press play on My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy to hear Kanye West’s heart spill out.  Track after track of soul-bearing lyrics wrapped in lush, meticulously crafted beats; no other hip-hop record this year approaches MBDTF’s level of emotional depth. Hell, no other album this year can touch it. It’s inspiring to listen to, and admirable to see an artist take such risks.

Whatever’s written (by or about) Kanye West, the man produces. After two of the strongest hip-hop albums of the last decade (The College Dropout, Late Registration), MBDTF is now the frontrunner for the foreseeable future.  Simply put, MBDTF has no weaknesses: Kanye’s production has never been better, his flow has tightened and he’s crammed enough blazing guest spots on his tracks to fill three albums. Every cut on MBDTF stands on its own, yet the album is remarkably cohesive. It’s a rollercoaster that begs to be ridden, not once, but again and again for years to come. - Joshua Bean

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