The Echo Chamber Blog

I just watched the first installment of VH1’s “100 Greatest Hip-Hop Songs of All Time.”  I generally don’t have a problem with these popular “Top 100″ specials where show clips of music videos are shown while a panel of musicians and completely unknown comedians reminisce about the featured songs and attempt, unsuccessfully, to be funny.  What I do have a major problem with is their use of the phrase “Greatest Hip-Hop Songs.” They should call this what it really is, “100 Hip-Hop Radio Hits.”  I don’t need to suffer through the next four episodes to know this countdown is total bullshit.  Numbers 100-81 featured only two songs that would make it anywhere near my top 100: Warren G’s “Regulate,” and Pete Rock and C.L. Smooth’s “T.R.O.Y.”  I love the Fresh Prince and Biz Markie as much as anyone but nothing from their bodies of work even belongs in the top 1000 greatest songs.  Goofy and fun?  Yes.  Great?  No.  Yo-Yo?  Heavy D?  Please.  N.E.R.D?  PM Dawn?  That ain’t even fuckin’ hip-hop!!!  They even made a blatant attempt to please the underground by including Black Star – fuck you VH1 for insulting our intelligence. 

I’m sure the list will have its share of Big, Pac, and Jigga, but it’ll be garbage like “Mo Money, Mo Problems,” ”Changes,” and “Money Ain’t a Thang.”  While any respectable top 100 would feature “Kick In The Door,” “Ambitionz Az a Ridah,” and “D’evils,” among many other classics from rap’s Holy Trinity.

I’m sure Wu-Tang will make the cut for “Triumph,” but what about “C.R.E.A.M.,” “Tearz,” and “Heaterz,” not to mention the countless bangers from the solo albums?  Dre and Snoop will be represented but VH1 will only include their massive MTV hits, while true hip-hop junkies know their entire catalogs are filled with classics. 

Although, I don’t expect VH1 to know what true hip-hop classics are, I just wish they would stick to what they’re good at: shows about celebrity culture for girls in their twenties.  Tell them how big Diddy’s yacht is, what Britney’s box looks like, and how much Paris spends on Chihuahua clothes and Valtrex.  Keep making talentless sluts famous just for blowing Flav and Bret Michaels.  Do anything you want, just leave rap alone.  Hip-hop ain’t dead, it’s alive and well on the web, in our stereos and I-Pods, and it’s running through our veins.  We don’t need VH1 to tell us what the 100 greatest rap songs are.  As a matter of fact, we resent it.