A list (in no particular order) of my 500 favorite songs (singles, deep cuts, hits, and more) of all time. Includes a wide array of selections from rock, punk, funk, R&B, soul, classical, jazz, folk, and world music.
There are so many songs in OutKast's catalog, including quirky/obscure album tracks, that I love. But I can't help but choose the single "So Fresh, So Clean" from Stankonia (2000) as one of my favorite tracks. Basically, it's just André 3000 and Big Boi spitting freaky deaky come-ons over a tasty, tricked-out Organized Noize beat for 4 minutes. But the scenarios they sling are just so wrong that they're right: they call up everything from Noah's Ark to Anne Frank in their quests to get some luvin'. My favorite pick-up line of all comes from Big Boi: Teddy Pendergrass / Cooler than Freddie Jackson sippin' a milkshake in a snowstorm. Game doesn't get colder than that.
I remember hearing OutKast's second album ATLiens (1996)in college and thinking it sounded like Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon as reimagined by George Clinton. The whole extraterrestrial/Marvel comics vibe felt like an extension (not a rip-off) of what the latter had created with Parliament in the late 70s. But what struck me most about the album was its fearlessness, especially at a time when hip-hop had gotten stale and "Puffy-ized": every two-bit rapper in the mainstream seemed to be bragging about the same crap ad nauseam over unimaginative beats and even lazier pop samples. Instead, here were two young cats out of Atlanta who not only were rapping about more philosophical topics (life, spirituality, and the nature of success), but they also had made an effort to write, perform, and produce/co-produce all of the backing tracks on their songs. ATLiens really did feel like it had dropped from outer space. Although I typically gravitate to the unearthed gems on OutKast's albums that didn't get a lot of airplay ("Chonkyfire" anyone?), I do still love "Elevators (Me & You)," the biggest single from ATLiens. The dubbed out drum track, spacey organ, and that anthemic chorus (Me and you / Your momma and your cousin, too...) all set the stage for Antwan "Big Boi" Patton and "André 3000" Benjamin's seamless flows, which address the fact that they were still struggling as artists despite the perception that they had "made it." For my money, one of the best verses ever in hip-hop is Benjamin's final stanza, where he tells a fan (who feigns knowing him from high school) that he and Patton are basically still living paycheck-to-paycheck, despite selling a bunch of albums. It's delivered with such lightning-fast precision and raw truth that I'm sure it made half of the emcees who heard it—you know, the ones who were tooling around in rented Bentleys and yachts, spraying Sprite disguised as Cristal on the engineered breasts of models in their videos, circa 1996/7—feel a bit inadequate.
Yes, I remember the first time I heard "Spottieottiedopaliscious" from Aquemini. Must've been about late October '98, sitting in my dorm room. Some cat sounding like Curtis Mayfield singing about... Dickies and Lincolns and Stankonia, GA-- Even though they hadn't crowned it yet. These real, live dubbed-out horns and drums Floating from the speakers like blue blunt smoke, And then Andre 3000's voice comes in: Damn. Damn. Damn. James. My roommate and I look at each other like What the?... And then Mr. André Benjamin starts to talk, Painting poetry about a night club: The DJ is handing out aural group therapy to the needy, While his girl is whispering in his ear, As the "Olde E" and "Set It Off" Compete for his undivided attention. Then fists fly somewhere across the room Before three dudes get "hauled off in an ambulance." Suddenly it's 3am again, and... Damn. Damn. Damn. James. We're expecting Big Boi And Mr. Antwan Patton is there to deliver, Only he's got his Gil Scott Heron hat on. He introduces us to his Spottieottiedopaliscious Angel: She sounds like Pegasus, Pam Grier, and Helen of Troy, All rolled into one-- On roller skates, no less. He muses about raising children with this woman Even though, once upon a time, "Booty clubs" were all that was on his mind. He reveals what being a grown ass man And handling your business is all about. (How's that for your "typical MC?") It becomes obvious that Sir Lucious is giving advice To some young cat Who thinks he can raise his family On dirty/inconsistent money from slinging dope. He cautions this dude About the hell of self sabotage, Reminding him about his Halfhearted attempts at a good job Only to be defeated by his own weedy pee. As the song fades into an echo of cross sticks, We think to ourselves: "Those dudes didn't even rhyme once." Yet we still hit "repeat." Three times. That's my interpretation of the situation.
Not unlike hip hop contemporary CeeLo, OutKast produced some of its best music long before members Andre Benjamin (aka Andre 3000) and Antwan Patton (aka Big Boi) became household names and "Hey Ya" could be heard everywhere from the grocery store to your dentist's office. Just before the superstardom, the dynamic duo dropped Stankonia (2000) along with the track "B.O.B." ("Bombs Over Baghdad")--prophetically named, considering that a couple of years later the US marched into Iraq (again). The song even was banned from commercial radio in a lot of markets because of the perceived glorification of war and violence. (Way to miss the point, idiots.) Forgetting all that for a moment, it's just a SICK track. It's one piece in the larger puzzle of Stankonia, a project on which they set out to create something that didn't sound like anything else in hip hop, which at the time Benjamin and Patton felt had grown stale and predictable. They not only had a brand new recording studio of their own, which gave them the freedom to experiment and push their sound in new directions without feeling like someone was constantly watching over their shoulders, but they also set out to capture the chaos and feelings of uncertainty at the turn of the millennium. So what better way to do that but spit lyrics at 155 beats per minute over a breakneck drum-n-bass beat with wailing Eddie Hazel-flavored electric guitar? And then there's that chant: "Bombs over Baghdad...yeah. Bombs over Baghdad...yeah." It sounds like the cheering section at the Thunderdome. (It's frighteningly catchy, even though it makes you feel like someone won't be leaving the arena alive...) It's one of the best songs of its decade. (Kind of hard to believe that clusterfuck of a decade is already years past.)
