Top 10 Best Hip-Hop Albums/Mixtapes of 2011

Recently, there’s been been a general lament on the state of hip-hop.  Although issuing a few standouts, recent years have done little to assuage this concern.  2011 has been different.  Nearly a dozen records that would have easily appeared on lists past did not make this year’s final cut.  Below are the ten that did.

If you sleep on The Roots, much can happen. In the past three years they have produced three albums of their own material, and a collaboration of soul protest songs with John Legend. Now, they release their 10th studio album and it raised a host of questions:

So you heard that Sufjan plays piano on the last song? Did NPR pique your interest enough to stream the album? Aren’t these the guys that play some music for Jimmy Fallon’s show? Is there such a thing as concept album in rap?

Our answer: don’t say Undun is a great album on the merits of past glory or indie credibility. That betrays the solid song cycle that finally permits Black Thought and Dice Raw to do what they do best. And that’s what The Roots do best on this album.

?uestlove’s boom-bap drums make their first appearance on “One Time,” which seems a fitting place to explain what makes Undun so special. The song takes the idea of being on time as the existential crisis facing those who live a street life. Phonte opens with light word play and contemporary allusions, then cedes the mic to Black Thought. To my ears, Black Thought is the Walt Whitman of contemporary hip hop. If Jay-Z is all about enjambment to spring a catch phrase, Kanye elongating vowels, Drake end stopping his way through robotic line after robotic line, Black Thought expands his barbaric yelp to supreme effect. He concludes his portion with these lines:
“Then I went missing looking for the sublime/ A nigga stayed low left the ladder unclimbed/Time after time, verse blank, the line unrhymed.”
In the final verse, Dice Raw continues this idea with a deft twist: “But hopping over gates to escape is sublime/Then through the alley way and down to the sub line.”

This conceit of street sublime, beauty though torn by brokenness, is what makes Undun a superb album. The Roots reached this level of musical and philosophical greatness on Things Fall Apart, and it looks like they’re back. Welcome. - Ian Doreian

It’s been a good year for Detroit producter, Apollo Brown.  Following the excellent, instrumental Clouds, Brown teamed up with Rochester MC, Hassaan Mackey, and brought us one of the hardest-hitting releases of 2011, Daily Bread.  Mackey’s gritty voice and no-nonsense delivery pairs exquisitely with Brown’s soul-infused, Dilla-channeling, boom-bap. Add the incredibly relevant lyrical subject matter and the result is banger after banger that hold up listen after listen. - Joshua Bean

“I’m what the future sound like and I’mma make you see it.” Blueprint’s ambitious statement on “Clouds” is certainly well-meaning, but probably the furthest thing from the truth:  it’s doubtful the future will usher in a new crop of firey MCs, spitting bars about the dangers of alcohol abuse or international politics.  He hits the nail on the head in “My Culture” when he raps “So when these rappers only talk about a home or a broad / It’s cause they don’t know what’s happening at home or abroad.” Blueprint is not cut from the same cloth as most other rappers.  He’s more progressive thematically, which may be, in part, why he continues to have such a low profile, despite over a decade of solid production.  Musically, Blueprint’s sound maintains some of the funk that influenced his earlier sound, but he makes a conscious decision to sound more “futuristic,” implementing more synths into the equation.  He is also not afraid to add new elements to his sound, with gorgeous vocals by Angelica Lee in “Mind Body and Soul” and his own, surprisingly strong vocals in “So Alive” and “Stole Our Yesterday.” While he may get preachy at points, this is easily overlooked by the earnestness and intensity that run through Adventures in Counter-Culture. - Joshua Bean

Watch the Throne is an imperative album. Don’t misinterpret its title as an absent monarch’s parting edict, or a claim of Vatican level hubris.  Rather it’s a gentle nudge for Jay and Yeezy to notice where they are in this stage of their careers: unrestrained and unbelievable.

For both rappers, Watch the Throne provides a needed break from their professional personas. They are free to scamper around their royal chambers, a reveling and reverential treatment of success. The black & white trailer for the album introduced this idea as we observed stoic posturing and lighthearted studio sessions. Gone is the hyper symbolism of “On to the Next One,” the quasi-commentary of “All of the Lights,” and what remains is just two friends making music. This allows us to enjoy, without any cynicism, the claims of “inventing swag” or sampled dialogue from Blades of Glory.

What pushes the album beyond a party record is how it manages its ostentatious swagger with stripped emotions. Where Kanye previously used expansive imagery or crass lyrics to speak of past indiscretions, Watch the Throne permits raw statements like “Don’t be like your daddy that would never budge/And I’ll never let him ever hit a strip club.” Jay sounds like a father in some places, and even through the puerile descriptions of Beyoncé’s assets there’s a touch of self-deprecation that this dope dealer managed to put a ring on it.

Existential brooding (“Welcome to the Jungle”), shadow economy (“Made in America”), and party bangers (“Otis”) makes this a vast collection of songs. Jay and Hov share the mic and recover much of the fun they had discarded on recent disks, placing these two icons in an accessible place, Hublot and Maybach references intact. - Ian Doreian

This isn’t a new idea. For years, rappers have been tapping into their emotional side, testing the waters with concept albums, and patchworking styles together to make something that feels new. But Kendrick Lamar manages to do all of the above with such ease on Section.80 that it’s hard to believe it’s a 24-year-old’s debut. Unlike many of his blog rap contemporaries, Lamar isn’t naïve, pandering, or overly referential. He’s Drake meets Bone Thugs with a West Coast pedigree, bridging the gap between the past and the present without it seeming like a stretch. The last track of Section.80 embodies that mix, flipping the chorus from Kanye’s “So Appalled” convincingly: “Five star dishes/Food for thought, bitches/I mean this shit is/Bobby Seale making meals, you can’t resist his.” Food for thought indeed. - Chris Barth

Death, girls and mischief. You might think I’m about to reference an Odd Future album, but in actuality, this is also the thematic template for Cities Aviv’s Digital Lows. Both introspective and belligerent, Digital Lows is a record seeped in the type of youthful angst that holds “fuck everybody here” and “fuck it, why not?” as reasonable expressions of logic. Soothing soul tracks, Bambaataa blasts, and syrupy Three 6-style cuts are his co-conspirators, and they are frequently used to add emotional weight, or contrast, to some of the messages found in the music. Interestingly enough, what they add weight to are rhymes preoccupied with death, a subject that is weighty enough by itself. This leaves you with a little more to think about than how easy the music was to get behind. It also explains that “fuck it, why not?” is really just an expression of, “life is short, so we have to live hard.” It can be a dark meditation on life, but it’s also a good one, and I’d be remiss in my duties if I didn’t tell you to seek it out. - Colin McLaughlin

It’s tough to put your Ghostface Killah comparisons aside to make way for Action Bronson, but you’re better off leaving that business on the back burner and letting this boy cook. “Yo, three verses ain’t enough anymore these days?” Bronson asks on “The Madness,” but Dr. Lecter leaves little doubt as to his appetite for rapping. He goes all in – and hard – on beat after breakbeat-sampling beat from producer Tommy Mas. The funky vibe doesn’t invite venom, but Bronson delivers it regardless; “Fuck that sittin’ down rap type shit, man.” The Queens native’s flow is heavy with food references, but the tasty debut avoids gimmick through honesty. This is hip hop the way it should be served. - Chris Barth

In a hype cycle dominated by the collaboration of two hip hop kings, it’s a different one-two punch that delivers the year’s sharpest jab. After teaming up for a track on 2010’s Album Of The Year, Danny Brown and Black Milk throw their lot together again for this potent EP, cranking out a handful of new tracks that are far more interesting and expansive than the album’s 22 minute runtime has any business being. Danny the Hybrid is as uncouth as ever, but his nasal staccato is tempered by Milk’s lush, pulsing beats. “Streets is saying that hip hop needed me/I’m the majesty so greet me as your highness,” raps Brown on “Zap.” The Detroit rap revolution is in full swing, and Black and Brown are gunning for the throne. - Chris Barth

Elmatic is not your typical mixtape. We’re not talking about canned beats and half-assed, lazily-delivered lines. Elmatic took six weeks to record and has allegedly been in the works for years. Objectively, the care put into Elmatic is on par with, or exceeds, that of most “proper” album releases. The finished product reflects this: Elzhi’s rhymes are incredibly well-crafted and Will Sessions’ backdrop is tight and clean. But this is not what makes Elmatic such a great piece of music.

To begin with, Illmatic is a hallmark record. Every self-respecting hip-hop fan on the planet has it cemented in their top-five of all time. Lyrically and musically, it is as bulletproof as a hip-hop album can get. So, why would any MC use Illmatic as a jumping-off point in creating a new work, when it appears there is nowhere to go but down? In Elzhi’s case, I’ll use a cheap metaphor, suggested by the cover art: Elzhi has struck out to create his own masterpiece, and Illmatic seemed the appropriate canvas on which to paint it. Although seemingly impossible, Elzhi has succeeded, not in creating a work as influential as Illmatic, but in creating a piece so strong that it is in no way overshadowed by its predecessor. Let’s consider the results.

Lyrically, no other hip-hop record in the past several years can match Elmatic. Elzhi can rap. That’s long been established. However, as an MC known primarily for his verbal dexterity, his wordplay often overshadowed other elements of his tracks. On Elmatic, Elzhi’s impressive workplay integrates seamlessly into each song’s theme and story; he pens each track with such care and insight that this might be considered the year’s most personal hip-hop record. For gripping storytelling, social commentary or even straight-up rap bravado, Elzhi’s verses are consistently impressive.  “Halftime,” “Memory Lane” and “Detroit State of Mind” are a few examples. At any point in Elmatic, you will come across brilliant lines that make you press rewind to make sure you’ve heard them correctly.

Of course, much of Elzhi’s genius would be lost if not for the musical backdrop provided by Will Sessions. In hindsight, having a full band (re)create Illmatic’s beats seems like a no-brainer: what better way to differentiate yourself from classic beats by DJ Premier, Pete Rock, Q-Tip and others?  Starting out, this must have been an incredibly daunting task. And it is one that pays considerable dividends.  The music in Elmatic sounds cleaner, the beats hit harder; these are clearly beats for 2011, with the utmost respect paid to those they come from. Hell, even Primo digs them.

I won’t debate whether Elmatic or Illmatic is better.  hat such a possibility is even being considered speaks to how powerful Elmatic is. Perhaps the greatest compliment that can be given to Elzhi’s opus, however, is that once you start listening, you forget about Illmatic and become fully invested in Elzhi’s vision. - Joshua Bean

Black Up is refreshing, in part, because it lacks definition. If you want an easy answer as to what it hopes to gain, this isn’t for you. This is a parallel universe where hip hop never locked onto a specific form, and roams feral like the notes in a free-form jazz record. There is no handholding here; you are free to take from it what you wish. The words aren’t guides and they won’t help you to any type of truth other than your own; they are a mix of broad chants, and ambiguous selections from an untitled poetry book. To describe this album is akin to an act that courts confusion, like relaying the details of a vivid, but vexing fever dream to someone, or trying to explain the reason you fell in love with a Rothko. Words just don’t do some things justice. The only help Ishmael Butler, lead MC of the group, lends to this cause is by chanting, “It’s a feeling.” Yes, that is what this album is. It’s a feeling. An enigmatic selection of morphing sounds, hallucinatory images, and abstract beats that give hope to the premise that hip hop still has ground left to cover. And in an era of predictability, that is like a bright flare to a search party. - Colin McLaughlin

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