60 Biz Markie, The Biz Never Sleeps vs. #69 Love and Rockets, Love and Rockets
Good morning!
Today we’re taking a look at records from The Biz and 3/4 of Bauhaus
Note: As many of you know, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 1989 challenge and noted that I’d be occasionally writing some of these up.
I’ve started doing some quick hits of each matchup and posting them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There’ll probably definitely be some typos.
Check ’em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags & hot takes welcome! Sharing and restacks are always appreciated.
KA—
Pity Marcel Hall; he never quite gets the respect he deserves. Like a sort of Warren Zevon of Hip Hop, his biggest hit was a novelty (“Just a Friend”), featured a big ass beat and some seriously off key signing. The bars are relatable if not “fire,” and I’m willing to be that most people of a certain age can still recite them…or after a couple of drinks will willingly caterwaul the chorus at the local watering hole’s karaoke night.
Fun. But that doesn’t tell the rest of the story about the rest of Hall’s (aka Biz Markie), The Biz Never Sleeps. Once you get past that put-on silliness, the album is a goldmine of sampling, beats, and production. While Biz might not’ve had the best flow in ‘89, he was a dynamo behind the boards. And just in case that wasn’t enough, Marley Marl came through to mix it all.
Besides, “Just a Friend,” the other single off the record was “Spring Again,’ an all-timer, IMO. Biz is still trying to lay that weird singing across the chorus, but man! The rest of it with Roberta Flack and Donny Hathaway’s “Back Together Again?” That sure sounded good booming out of the trunks in my neighborhood.
At any rate, this record found me at just the right time. People contain multitudes, but in 1988-89, you only needed five letters to sum me up: s-u-r-l-y.
Bad acne, bad hair (never quite figured that one out), and a worse attitude. Everything was terrible all the time. Even playing soccer- a game woven into my DNA- became an exercise in misery. This team could be better… Our opponents suck….Why can’t first-year students letter?
Blah, blah, blah. I was insufferable.
But hearing the right track at the right time was always the exception. There’d be a respite, if only for 3-4 minutes. I wasn’t the biggest Biz Markie fan, but this track did it for me. The horns up against that beat? Incredible! His bars? Solid. All made for a nice 3-4 minute respite. I’m old enough to know this is no longer my time to refer to songs as “bangers” or that I was obsessed, but both are true. I’m also old enough to remember the time before the internet and sites like whosampled.com. I knew enough to know Biz was sampling other tracks but not enough to know where to look to find out.
So we’ve got two singles—one a huge hit and one that should’ve been. But what about the rest of the record?
There’s plenty more silliness- topics covered include such “hard-hitting” themes as bad breath and kindergarten girlfriends- but also plenty more samples. You want soul? Maybe some funk? He’s got you. Have fun trying to place ‘em all!
One sidenote that needs to be pointed out: it’s not all fun and games here. “A Thing Named Kim” is problematic at best. After a pretty dope build up, Biz fumbles by ending with a shitty verse of transphobia. Delete the punchline. It’s some standard issue braggadocio of the day, and put together nicely. Leave it in and it ages like milk left in the sun. Even looking at it through a 1989 lens, it’s still a letdown. Did it reflect the times? Yeah kinda, but that doesn’t mean we can’t call it out.
Luckily, our man gets back on track with “I Hear Music,” this writer’s second favorite track on the record after “Spring Again.” Why this has been relegated to deep cut status is beyond me. This has “summer playlist staple” written all over it.
Biz Markie’s legacy might be “Just a friend,” but this record is so much more than that; just like Excitable Boy is so much more than “Werewolves of London.”
At my school, having a Bauhaus (or synth-era Ministry) shirt was the ultimate badge of indie cool. This was before such things became common, and to have one was to tell people you had zero interest in whatever was on the radio. There’s probably a timeline out there where “Stigmata Martyr” was a huge hit, but we’re not living in it.
How strange, then, to have 3/4 of the band with an unlikely hit on their hands with “So Alive.” To be fair, it’s got all the ingredients of a hit song recipe: steady beat, beguiling backing vocals, and Daniel Ash half-whispering into your ear.
It’s also unlike just about everything else on the record.
There are harder-edged tracks that might remind one of the more jagged edges of Bauhaus. “Motorcycle” is loud and repetitive in all the best ways. Yeah, it’s about…motorcycles..but who cares? It sounds fantastic. For my (entirely subjective) money, it remains the band’s best.
“No Big Deal” feels like something stamped out at The Jesus and Mary Chain’s song factory (pre-Automatic). It’s good, but doesn’t lend itself to pretend listens.
The knock on this record is that it’s uneven. Like, really uneven. The highs (“Motorcycle”) are offset by things like “The Purest Blue,” a track that takes far too long to go absolutely nowhere. Seriously, was there a song quota they needed to meet?
At 6+ minutes, you could probably make the same argument for “Bound For Hell,” but at least it’s got a rocking groove, some harmonica, and you have a decent time getting there. Meanwhile, some of the slower tracks like “The Teardrop Collector” border on annoying. Not something you want to say about these guys!
Ultimately, this record’s songs sound better in isolation than they do as a collective. It’s a good enough record, but there’s a reason Love and Rockets shirts never really caught on.
Bottom Line: Despite its faults, The Biz Never Sleeps works really well as a whole album. Maybe it’s first-day jitters, but Love and Rockets’ debut is uneven, quite so when compared to today’s opponent. Winning this sets you up to face Pretty Hate Machine in the next round, so that victory might be short-lived. Nevertheless.
My vote: Biz Markie all day.
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!
Throwing Muses Hunkpapa vs. The D.O.C.’s No One Can Do It Better
Today sees #32 Throwing Muses ‘Hunkpapa’ album facing off against #97 The D.O.C.’s No One Can Do It Better.
I sent in a Designated Cheerleader piece for Hunkpapa, so that should tell you where my vote’s going. Last fall, Sam Colt and I took on the ambitious/absurd mission of ranking our top 100 records of all time. I slotted this one in at #48, and wrapped it up by noting:
“This band was like nothing I’d ever heard before. In a lot of ways, they still are. Writing this, I’ve struggled to pin down an easy genre tag or a way to describe the sound. Some of it feels like the sun’s surface (literally, in the case of “Dizzy”), and some of it reminds me of fall. I don’t know how best to describe this record besides saying, “Just go play it!” What I do know is that in the 30+ years (yikes!) since that show, this record has never drifted too far from my playlists.“
All that aside, IMO, this is a much tougher call than it would seem on paper. Both are incredible records–albeit for very different reasons. And both have had a lasting influence–albeit on much different groups of artists.
I blew out my knee right at the start of COVID (0/10 do not recommend), and The D.O.C. kept me company for a lot of my rehab. It’s a record of its time, but still sounds fresh.
There is some chatter that Hunkpapa is overranked, while the D.O.C. is underranked. I can see the case for each. What do you think? Who ya got?
Check out today’s write-up (and Designated Cheerleader article (not mine)here.
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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