The Best Record of 1989: Day 49: #3 De La Soul, 3 Feet High and Rising vs. #126 Hoodoo Gurus, Magnum Cum Louder
Good morning!
Today we’re taking a quick look at records from De La Soul and Hoodoo Gurus
I should be mad at De La Soul—or at least annoyed. I have a particular distaste for the skits that litter so many hip-hop records, which can be traced back to the band’s 1989 record, 3 Feet High and Rising. That said, while those were often used as filler on other releases, they have a certain charm on this record. I’m still not sold on the idea, but they’re at least tolerable. If nothing else, they’re not distracting from the overall product.
Okay, so that’s the bad part out of the way. Now let’s talk about the good. We can talk about Prince Paul’s touch and how he helped sculpt this into something nothing like what we’d heard before. This and Paul’s Boutique ushered in a new era of layering samples like a collage. Now, instead of an MC and a breakbeat, we had soundscapes. Both of these records influenced countless crews that followed. Why one was a hit out of the blocks and took years to get its due is worth its own discussion.
We can talk about the stylings of Posdnous and Trugoy’s flow and the insistence on bringing concepts like peace and harmony back into the collective discussion. Maybe carve out some time to remember how fun “Me, Myself, and I” felt when it dropped. Posse cuts were de rigueur then, and “Buddy” is one of the best. All of those things are true, and each of them matters.
In our Top 100 series, Sam had this slotted in at #77.
My take then was:
Looking back through admittedly fuzzy memory, in the mid-to-late 80s, everyone I knew had three hip-hop records: Beastie Boys’ License To Ill, Run DMC’s Raising Hell, and this. Only one has a Steely Dan sample, and only one sounds as good now as it did then. “This,” of course, would be 3 Feet High and Rising. It’s the summer of love with some 808, and I’m here for it.
I still am.
I lucked my way into a group of avowed music nerds in school. Finding and sharing new (or at least new to us) music became our raison d’être. This is how Hoodoo Gurus’ Magnum Cum Louder first got onto my radar.
I don’t recall this becoming an obsession with any of us, but instead falling into the “it’s got a couple of great songs” purgatory. Those lucky few wound up circulating on mixtapes, with the rest of the tracks confined to the dustbin of history.
If you’re of a certain age, you know the deal; you bought a record on the strength of a good song over two, and hoped for the best with regard to the rest of the album. In this case, I wouldn’t have felt bad being out $8.99 or whatever the list price was, but I was also happy with just having a copy.
In Magnum Cum Louder’s case, that one good song is “Come Anytime.” About a minute in, I realized I was playing it loud and singing along at equal volume (note: If we happened to have been sharing the ordeal yesterday afternoon, I’m sorry you had to hear that).
It’s as good as ever. The hook…the sing-along chorus…all of it. It does well to set the stage for what’s to come. The next couple of tracks (“Another World,” “Axegrinder”) are also pretty good, even if they don’t quite meet that same high bar. They’re nice enough, but feel like a small step down. Get to about track six and realize it’s more of the same. It’s a nice “same,” —” Shadow Me” and “All the Way” in particular— but a same nonetheless.
Magnum Cum Louder is, of course, a play on the term Magnum cum laude, which is a fancy way of adding a “better than average” rider to a degree or diploma. It seems aspirational here, especially when stacked up against the rest of the discography.
A few tweaks here and there might’ve earned it a legit shot at that distinction.
My vote: 3 Feet High and Rising changed the game. Magnum Cum Louder barely caused a ripple in my suburban friend group. It’d be a much tougher call if we were going on the strength of “Come Anytime” alone, but we’re not.
It’s the D.A.I.S.Y. Age for the win.
Any thoughts on either of these records? Agree/disagree with my takes? Which one of these would you vote for? Sound off in the comments!
May 2025: Sam & I bring a some boom bap and Jeep beats to the table.
Good morning!
Today Sam Colt and I are each sharing a few of our favorite hip hop records from the 90s
Welcome to the fifth installment of our (not so) new series! For those of you who may have missed previous editions, here’s a bit of context:
In this monthly series, Sam Colt and I will each share our picks for artists and/or titles that haven’t received their due. You’ll recognize Sam’s name from our On Repeat and Friends Best of Series, and also our Top 100 of all-time serieslast fall. These posts will adopt the latter’s format; I will make my case for my three picks and my reaction to Sam’s. Sam’s page will do the reverse.
In the inaugural post, we noted that successive editions would narrow things down slightly. Maybe a specific genre…maybe a specific era…maybe a specific…well, who knows!
Break out your Timbs and turn up the Alpine; This month, we’re each making a case for a few underrated hip hop records from the 90s.
California’s share of the Best Coast is just under 900 miles, but NorCal and SoCal might as well be two different universes. In many ways, they are—and certainly were in the 90s. While NWA talked about bumpin’ in the city of Compton and Snoop’s smooth drawl introduced us all to the LBC, there was a whole world of hip hop artists up the road in the Bay Area. E-40 was there. Too Short, too. And then there were The Hieroglyphics; a collective made of cats like Del Tha Funky Homosapien, Casual, and Souls of Mischief.
Back then, we didn’t have any money. People did odd jobs, this and that. So I didn’t have a whole bunch of money to buy records, but I did whenever I could. I found that particular record, it’s a Billy Cobham album called Crosswinds. At that point it wasn’t one of the hot records for people to sample. It didn’t cost hella money, it was in the dollar bin. I just grabbed it, and when I got home, I listened to the sample. I used to listen to my samples on 45, because I didn’t have much sampling time in my sampler. [It was] some cheap shit. [The record is] a little gritty, but listening to it on 45, I was like, “Aw, this’d be dope, I’m gonna make it uptempo.”
The latter were perhaps the best of the lot…or at least made the best record of the bunch. The title track is an all-timer—and with good cause—but the album is here on your screen because it’s solid all the way through. Like The Pharcyde below, Souls of Mischief spent a lot of time digging through the crates looking for melodies, jazz, and other touches that gave the record a languid and infectious sound.
Lyrically, the crew was using words in ways others hadn’t thought of yet. And while they were still talking about the same things as other rappers (girls, guns, weed), they were doing it with a vibe that could only have come from the Bay Area.
You chillin’?
Sam’s pick and my take: Big L- Lifestylez Ov Da Poor & Dangerous
Sometimes, timing is everything. 1995 was a banner year for hip hop. Mobb Deep dropped an all-timer. Seemingly half of the Wu-Tang Clan released solo records, and even The Pharcyde followed up Bizarre Ride II with Labcabincalifornia. It was… a lot. Charts and tastes are finite spaces. Something had to give, and one Lamont “Big L” Coleman got lost in the wake. Before the comments light up, I’m sure the true heads knew about this record, but no one I knew was talking about it. And in 1995, I was 3 time zones away from Harlem.
Lifestylez pops off with “Put it On,” a track with a weapons-grade boom bap that quickly establishes that he’s taking no prisoners. We’re off to a strong start. Listening to follow up “M.V.P.” bugged me. Not because it’s bad—it’s not— but because I couldn’t place the sample. Dear reader, I spent way too long trying to figure out that it was “Stay With Me” from De Barge, but one I recognized from The Notorious B.I.G. Yes I know WhoSampled exists. Nevertheless…
A lot of the records on this list transcend the era in which they were made. They sound as relevant now as they were in the last millennium (eek). This one bets the other way. It 100% sounds like something made in the mid-90s. To my ear, that’s high praise. This is the sort of style I gravitate to more than any other. I’ll take all of this you got! This is a great record released in the middle of a tidal wave of great records. I have to think that had the timing been better, it would’ve been huge.
The Pharcyde- Bizarre Ride II the Pharcyde
Hip hop has always had an urgent side. A side that shines a harsh light on the plight of others and pulls the curtains back on parts of society most of us either don’t know or choose to ignore. Public Enemy and NWA are great examples of each, and I’d argue that both are (very) necessary.
But you can only listen to so much before burning out. You need a record with some bounce that is serious but doesn’t take itself too seriously—one that’s dare I say…fun? You need a record like Bizarre Ride II The Pharcyde.
A good record also makes you take a step back and excitedly mutter something like “oh shit” while you try to make sense of what you’re experiencing.
It’s not lost on me that the first words you hear on this record are “oh shit” and from a comedian. Bizarre Ride II is a record that will make you laugh and rearrange your mind in equal measure. The question isn’t if either of those will happen, it’s which one will happen first.
Musically, the album is much more elaborate than many of its contemporaries. There’s plenty of bass, but the crew builds elaborate soundscapes. The ride takes you through jazz, psychedelia, and just about everything else along the way. It’s a record that is much more in the vein of Paul’s Boutique than, say, something from Grandmaster Flash.
Lyrically, the crew knows their way around a little braggadocio (I mean, there’s an entire track of “Yo Mama” disses), but are much more interested in self-deprecating humor. There’s swagger in the verses, but an undercurrent of vulnerability underneath. Chuck D’s not gonna drop a line like “Damn I wish I wasn’t such a wimp“ the way they do on “Passin’ Me By.” Also: is this the first instance of “simp” being used in a track? Young guns take note.
Hip hop expert and friend of On Repeat Records Jeffrey Harvey nailed it, writing:
The Pharcyde are at their most inspired and relatable when addressing affairs of the heart. The album reach’s its zenith with a pair of colorfully imaginative parables of love lost, found, and unreciprocated.
“Passin’ Me By” stands not only as The Pharcyde’s signature song, but one of the signature songs of early ’90s hip-hop. From the first shuffle of the inverted drum loop cribbed from Jimi Hendrix’s “Are You Experienced?,” J-Swift’s meticulously constructed sample collage evokes the dizzying dervish of teenaged infatuation. Spirits soar high and crash hard as the fearless foursome hand their hearts to a quartet of enchanting young ladies, only to have them ignominiously broken.
The record has some skits; long-time readers may recall that I’m not a fan of those. But they are used in moderation here, and aren’t quite the distraction they can be on other records.
The worst part is that you have to wade through them before getting back to the good stuff. “Soul Flower” is an absolute banger, and relistening to the record ahead of this write-up, I found myself reaching for the “back” button a couple of times before remembering that I needed to keep moving.
The MCs are breaking new ground, but aren’t so busy that they don’t give an occasional nod to those who came before them. On “Officer,” a verse tips its hat to none other than Public Enemy’s “Black Steel in the Hour of Chaos,” but make sure that you remember what record you‘re playing by dropping a verse like this on “So I Ramble”:
About my life, is actually shambles Should have took the bus A bus without the silence or some old Nikes I wish we had good bikes We need to exercise
At one point on “Soul Flower,” they ask, “How long can you freak the funk?” The answer, in this case, is 56 minutes and 39 seconds—the whole damn record.
Sam’s pick and my take: UGK- Ridin’ Dirty
If it’s not already patently obvious, I’m not the target demographic for records like Ridin’ Dirty. Case in point: at first glance, I confused this with Chamillionaire’s track, and thought maybe Sam had included something from the wrong decade. Silly me. It should also go without saying, but playing this at work might not be the best idea. Like many of the records on this list, the lyrics don’t always hold up. Pound for pound, this LP has more profanity than the rest.
Which is kind of my point. Maybe more so than any other, this one is the most gritty. The most “real,” whatever that means. There’s no lack of bombast and bravado here, and -again, maybe I’m not the best one to plant this flag— but a lot of it sounds like UGK spent some time at the G-Funk finishing school. The fluid beats and rhymes all feel like maybe you’re on your second cup of Lean, or maybe you’ve been out in the Houston humidity too long. Either way, this was an enjoyable ride…not sure if it’s possible to be riding dirty in a Subaru wagon, but here we are.
Life in the dirty south might not be for the weak of heart, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun.
Handsome Boy Modeling School- So…How’s Your Girl?
You might not recognize the name Prince Paul, but having worked on the boards for everyone from Stetsasonic to De la Soul (and as a member of Gravediggaz), you know his work.
Dan “The Automator” Nakamura might be a tougher call. Still, there’s no doubt he’s made his mark, producing all sorts of indie rap records and perhaps most (relatively) famously releasing Dr. Octagonecologyst, a collab with him, Kool Keith, and DJ Q-Bert.
The two producers became friends, and like any close friendship, developed a second language of inside jokes. They also became fans of comedian Chris Elliott, which…is a choice. But from Elliot’s work came a reference; the sort of thing you sling back and forth in your texts. A wink and a nod that makes total sense to you, and absolutely none to everyone else on Earth.
Handsome Boy Modeling School was born from a plot line in an episode of Elliot’s show.
So to recap: you have two producers known for their quirky styles, a project built off the cuff, and named after a plot in a largely forgotten sitcom episode.
There were really only two ways this could have gone:
A: It was going to be a groundbreaking record built by—and for— the true heads
B: It would be too clever by half, become an oddity ouroboros, and collapse under it’s own weight.
25+ years later, I think it’s safe to say that it is absolutely an example of the former. The producers might be idiosyncratic, but they leverage that to their advantage here, creating track after track of incredible work. A record crate diggers would love, but one that was also accessible to everyone else.
And they brought some friends along. Long before “collab” was a verb we all knew, the two invited MCs from all corners to come through. Grand Puba is here. So is DJ Shadow (note: this record may remind many of his Endtroducing record). So too are Beastie Boy Mike D and (checks notes) one half of Cibo Matto— the two appearing on the same track should paint a clear picture of what sort of collage was built here. It only gets better from there.
So… How’s Your Girl is hip hop for those with discerning tastes, for the people who look at ID’ing samples as a parlor game, and for those who want something unconventional in their crate.
Sam’s pick and my take: De La Soul- De La Soul is Dead
You didn’t even have to play the record to see that the D.A.I.S.Y. Age was over; the wilted flowers and broken pot were right there on the cover. If that wasn’t enough, the title was a dead giveaway: De La Soul is Dead.
The D.A.I.S.Y. Age might have passed, but only the version of De la Soul we all knew was gone. You’d be excused for only knowing “Me, Myself, and I,” but the trio (and Prince Paul!) made quick moves to ensure the band didn’t become a novelty act. The follow-up is a pivot sharp enough to give you whiplash, but plays to the group’s strengths. The middle child in an incredible 3-record run (3 Feet High and Rising, De La Soul is Dead, and 1993’s trippy Buhloone Mindstate) is arguably the best of the three.
Like many records from the era, there are once again too many skits for my tastes, and that makes for a 27-track LP that would be much better as a 15-16 joint. But that’s a small price to pay for getting all-timers like “A Roller Skating Jam Named ‘Saturdays,’” or watching them take on heavier themes in tracks like “My Brother’s a Basehead.” And of course, the sample-rich jams that are Prince Paul’s trademark.
It’s not lost on me that we both picked a Prince Paul-related project as one of our picks. If there is a poster boy for “understated” in the hip-hop game, it’s him. He also has an almost unblemished track record of putting out shelf-stable records that sound as fresh today as they did on Day 1.
If sales are anything to go by, the message flew over a lot of people’s heads, and many copies of this record were left to collect dust on record store shelves. But that’s their loss. De La Soul is Dead showed that not only were they back—they were a force to be reckoned with.
That’s a wrap! What are your thoughts on these records? Do you own any of them? Share your thoughts in the comments! Rants, raves, and spicy takes are all welcome. And if you have any ideas on future themes, please share those as well! Don’t forget to check out Sam’s thoughts over at This Is a Newsletter!
Kevin Sent 
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