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The Rap Year Book: The Most Important Rap Song From Every Year Since 1979, Discussed, Debated, and Deconstructed
The Rap Year Book takes readers on a journey that begins in 1979, widely regarded as the moment rap became recognized as part of the cultural and musical landscape, and comes right up to the present. Shea Serrano deftly pays homage to the most important song of each year. Serrano also examines the most important moments that surround the history and culture of rap music—from artists’ backgrounds to issues of race, the rise of hip-hop, and the struggles among its major players—both personal and professional. Covering East Coast and West Coast, famous rapper feuds, chart toppers, and show stoppers, The Rap Year Book is an in-depth look at the most influential genre of music to come out of the last generation.
Complete with infographics, lyric maps, hilarious and informative footnotes, portraits of the artists, and short essays by other prominent music writers, The Rap Year Book is both a narrative and illustrated guide to the most iconic and influential rap songs ever created.
Complete with infographics, lyric maps, hilarious and informative footnotes, portraits of the artists, and short essays by other prominent music writers, The Rap Year Book is both a narrative and illustrated guide to the most iconic and influential rap songs ever created.
240 pages, Paperback
First published October 13, 2015
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 374 reviews
October 17, 2015
if you don't like this book FOH
October 1, 2015
I've always been confused that there's not a greater crossover between my literary friends and my hip-hop friends. Both rely on a love of language, the way words can twist and stretch and hit, and both are about storytelling, about immersion and experience and emotion. Also: puns.
And I have longed for the day where a writer talented enough to bridge those worlds could write the book that explains the joyful mischief and soulful depths of great hip hop to an audience that hasn't got it yet.
Shea Serrano hasn't quite taken us there. But I do think he's found the blueprint (ahem) with this book, which is billed as a chronological look at how hip hop grew and mutated and evolved, year-by-year, from 1979 to the present. It's a great structure, and if it was a bit more fleshed out than it is here, it would be a truly elegant solution. The problem lies in Serrano's style: he's the kind of writer who will tell you an extended metaphor or personal anecdote to highlight a point but tell you to trust him, guys, he's getting to it and when he does it will be hi-larious and if any of you are getting antsy then just calm down because that's the type of book this is, get it? And that's fine, I even enjoy it in pieces, but to tell a whole book like this while trying to be authoritative cuts two ways. It undercuts the importance of the thing you've selected as being worthy of talking about (although Serrano is definitely on to something with his rebuttal section in each chapter, where another writer lays out an alternate choice for that year's most important song), and it's also guaranteed to turn off people who don't already know what he's talking about. So, no, this isn't the great "hip hop is art" book that I've been hoping for. But the illustrations are amazing and are all-time top-5 good, and the song selections are remarkably on point, and Serrano's explanation of the evolution of hip-hop reminds me of when I was 16 and my co-worker made me a 'Hip Hop History' mixtape and basically my life hasn't been the same since, and really isn't that all I was looking for?
And I have longed for the day where a writer talented enough to bridge those worlds could write the book that explains the joyful mischief and soulful depths of great hip hop to an audience that hasn't got it yet.
Shea Serrano hasn't quite taken us there. But I do think he's found the blueprint (ahem) with this book, which is billed as a chronological look at how hip hop grew and mutated and evolved, year-by-year, from 1979 to the present. It's a great structure, and if it was a bit more fleshed out than it is here, it would be a truly elegant solution. The problem lies in Serrano's style: he's the kind of writer who will tell you an extended metaphor or personal anecdote to highlight a point but tell you to trust him, guys, he's getting to it and when he does it will be hi-larious and if any of you are getting antsy then just calm down because that's the type of book this is, get it? And that's fine, I even enjoy it in pieces, but to tell a whole book like this while trying to be authoritative cuts two ways. It undercuts the importance of the thing you've selected as being worthy of talking about (although Serrano is definitely on to something with his rebuttal section in each chapter, where another writer lays out an alternate choice for that year's most important song), and it's also guaranteed to turn off people who don't already know what he's talking about. So, no, this isn't the great "hip hop is art" book that I've been hoping for. But the illustrations are amazing and are all-time top-5 good, and the song selections are remarkably on point, and Serrano's explanation of the evolution of hip-hop reminds me of when I was 16 and my co-worker made me a 'Hip Hop History' mixtape and basically my life hasn't been the same since, and really isn't that all I was looking for?
June 17, 2017
This book raised as many questions as it taught me things, but in a good way.
Now that I know which song was most important every year since hip-hop became a music genre in collective consciousness, I want to know: who were its most important artists? There are none nominated more than two times, but West-Coast hip-hop had an eleven years run where it was at the forefront of the genre's innovation, so what does that mean? Is Dr. Dre the most important rapper of all-time, at least statistically. He was nominated by Serrano in 1988 with NWA, in 1992 for "Ain't Nutin' but a G Thang" and for his iconic collaboration (and personal favorite of mine) California Love in 1996. THIS NEEDS TO BE DISCUSSED.
What's a little more clear to me after reading THE RAP YEAR BOOK is how much the genre evolved over the years, found its place in mainstream music with an image it wanted to project and evolved past it over the last decade, thanks to self-conscious artists like Kanye West and Kendrick Lamar. Fun book. I could've read two hundred more pages on the subject. Looking forward to Serrano's basketball tome in October.
Now that I know which song was most important every year since hip-hop became a music genre in collective consciousness, I want to know: who were its most important artists? There are none nominated more than two times, but West-Coast hip-hop had an eleven years run where it was at the forefront of the genre's innovation, so what does that mean? Is Dr. Dre the most important rapper of all-time, at least statistically. He was nominated by Serrano in 1988 with NWA, in 1992 for "Ain't Nutin' but a G Thang" and for his iconic collaboration (and personal favorite of mine) California Love in 1996. THIS NEEDS TO BE DISCUSSED.
What's a little more clear to me after reading THE RAP YEAR BOOK is how much the genre evolved over the years, found its place in mainstream music with an image it wanted to project and evolved past it over the last decade, thanks to self-conscious artists like Kanye West and Kendrick Lamar. Fun book. I could've read two hundred more pages on the subject. Looking forward to Serrano's basketball tome in October.
January 29, 2019
Oh how I love everything about this book. The reasons are many but I’ll unpack it in four parts.
First: The Concept.
How can you not love the idea of sifting through every rap song from 1979-2014 and choosing the most “important” one of each year. It is just as it seems, a monumentally difficult and subjective task. Some years it’s fairly clear, others there are 4 or 5 that could easily fit author Shea Serrano’s criteria of not simply being the “best” but contributing something either to the evolution of rap or the social moment it was created in.
In 1982 there is Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five’s ‘The Message’ and Afrika Bambaataa’s ‘Planet Rock’, both as Serrano writes “divinely significant”.
1988 had N.W.A’s ‘Straight Outta Compton’ and Public Enemy’s ‘Rebel Without a Pause’ but you can only choose one.
In 1992 Wu-Tang Clan’s ‘C.R.E.A.M’ and Snoop’s ‘Who Am I (What’s My Name)?’.
You get the idea. So how to sort these incredible songs?
Second: The charts and graphs.
I should say up front that I’ve loved reading and making lists since I was a child. I would often listen to the Billboard Top 40 on the radio and remember being in a near panic when my family went out for Chinese food on New Year’s Eve one year while the “Best 100 songs of the year” were being broadcast (my mom ever patient with me agreed to play the radio in the car). So imagine my delight that Serrano supplements each year’s selection with a handy graph describing what makes this song noteworthy. The key he decides for these graphs is equally entertaining.
It uses descriptors such as “Declarative, Deadly, Thrilling, Aggressive, Considerate, Boastful, Powerful…” with neat little pictures such as a ram for “powerful”, a teddy bear for “considerate”, and a turtle for “descriptive” for no other reason than Serrano seems to like turtles, which is good enough for me. They add some real color and insight into the songs as well as humor.
Third: The biographies.
Although never more than a few pages long, Serrano writes not only about the songs, but the artists who created them and why this song at this moment mattered. It provides some very fascinating looks at some very fascinating people.
In his section on DMX (Serrano is very upfront about how he views DMX when he writes: “DMX is terrifying. Were I ever to find myself in the position of suspecting my wife of having fellated him, then that’s just some shit that happened, is all that is.”) “Ruff Ryders Anthem” which is his song of the year for 1998, Serrano writes about DMX’s childhood. It isn’t pretty. At all.
“DMX’s early existence was built largely around isolation. The most overt and literal case involves his mother quarantining him as a young child alone in his room for thirty days straight with the door closed as a punishment. He was only allowed to leave to get water and use the restroom.”
Or:
“ ‘I could hear the breaking of the wires.’
That’s a quote from Lyor Cohen, remembering watching DMX perform for him in 1997 when Cohen was with Def Jam Records. X had suffered a very crucial beating prior and had to have his mouth wired shut. Still, given the opportunity to perform for a contract, he rapped with such ferocity and fervor that he nearly pulled the brackets holding his mouth together apart. Cohen signed him that night.”
Jesus Christ….
Knowing these biographical details about DMX, you begin to understand better where his music comes from. Serrano himself has perhaps the best description of DMX when he compares him to Puff Daddy:
“Puffy wanted a plane made of diamonds to fly him to a private island where the beach was also made of diamonds and the natives were big-bottomed women and, guess what, they had diamonds for nipples. DMX did not want a plane. DMX wanted a father. DMX wanted a mother who didn’t abuse him. DMX wanted peace in his heart, but felt fated to emptiness. Puff wanted a dollar because he wanted to be rich. DMX wanted your dollar because he wanted you to be poor.”
That is some wonderful, albeit bleak, writing.
Fourth: The humor.
The incredibly depressing section on DMX notwithstanding, this is an exceedingly clever and funny book that never takes itself too seriously. I found myself laughing out loud more times than I can remember when Serrano wrote such amazing things like:
On Big Sean’s ‘Guap’:
“There was ‘Guap’ which was about money, and he also talked about having sex with seventeen girls at once on it, and that seems excessive, but I guess that’s why they call him Big Sean and not Normal Sean."
On the kinder, mellower late period Ice Cube:
"In 2014, Ice Cube was on Sesame Street. It was a two-minute segment where he did magic tricks while explaining to Elmo what the word ‘astounding’ means. ‘Astounding is when something is soooo amazing, it catches you by surprise’ Cube said, wearing a long-sleeve, nonthreatening aqua-blue button-down shirt, shortly before making a baby dinosaur appear from a top hat.
I wish there was a way that 1988 Ice Cube could be introduced to 2014 Ice Cube. He would be as astounded as a motherfucker."
On Ice-T:
“Ice-T went to a Tupperware party once because he thought Denzel Washington was going to be there. Denzel Washington was not there. Ice-T is interesting.”
On Young Thug:
“Imagine if you could hug your own happiness. Imagine if you took both of your feet and stuck them in a bucket full of warm mud and wiggled your toes around, except that mud isn’t mud, it’s your soul. That’s how Young Thug raps.”
If you are even remotely interested in rap, hip-hop, homo-hop (apparently a thriving sub genre of gay rap), or any of the multitudes of offshoots, this book will have you scrambling to find these songs and make the greatest mix you’ve ever made. Just don’t forget to put some DMX in there.
First: The Concept.
How can you not love the idea of sifting through every rap song from 1979-2014 and choosing the most “important” one of each year. It is just as it seems, a monumentally difficult and subjective task. Some years it’s fairly clear, others there are 4 or 5 that could easily fit author Shea Serrano’s criteria of not simply being the “best” but contributing something either to the evolution of rap or the social moment it was created in.
In 1982 there is Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five’s ‘The Message’ and Afrika Bambaataa’s ‘Planet Rock’, both as Serrano writes “divinely significant”.
1988 had N.W.A’s ‘Straight Outta Compton’ and Public Enemy’s ‘Rebel Without a Pause’ but you can only choose one.
In 1992 Wu-Tang Clan’s ‘C.R.E.A.M’ and Snoop’s ‘Who Am I (What’s My Name)?’.
You get the idea. So how to sort these incredible songs?
Second: The charts and graphs.
I should say up front that I’ve loved reading and making lists since I was a child. I would often listen to the Billboard Top 40 on the radio and remember being in a near panic when my family went out for Chinese food on New Year’s Eve one year while the “Best 100 songs of the year” were being broadcast (my mom ever patient with me agreed to play the radio in the car). So imagine my delight that Serrano supplements each year’s selection with a handy graph describing what makes this song noteworthy. The key he decides for these graphs is equally entertaining.
It uses descriptors such as “Declarative, Deadly, Thrilling, Aggressive, Considerate, Boastful, Powerful…” with neat little pictures such as a ram for “powerful”, a teddy bear for “considerate”, and a turtle for “descriptive” for no other reason than Serrano seems to like turtles, which is good enough for me. They add some real color and insight into the songs as well as humor.
Third: The biographies.
Although never more than a few pages long, Serrano writes not only about the songs, but the artists who created them and why this song at this moment mattered. It provides some very fascinating looks at some very fascinating people.
In his section on DMX (Serrano is very upfront about how he views DMX when he writes: “DMX is terrifying. Were I ever to find myself in the position of suspecting my wife of having fellated him, then that’s just some shit that happened, is all that is.”) “Ruff Ryders Anthem” which is his song of the year for 1998, Serrano writes about DMX’s childhood. It isn’t pretty. At all.
“DMX’s early existence was built largely around isolation. The most overt and literal case involves his mother quarantining him as a young child alone in his room for thirty days straight with the door closed as a punishment. He was only allowed to leave to get water and use the restroom.”
Or:
“ ‘I could hear the breaking of the wires.’
That’s a quote from Lyor Cohen, remembering watching DMX perform for him in 1997 when Cohen was with Def Jam Records. X had suffered a very crucial beating prior and had to have his mouth wired shut. Still, given the opportunity to perform for a contract, he rapped with such ferocity and fervor that he nearly pulled the brackets holding his mouth together apart. Cohen signed him that night.”
Jesus Christ….
Knowing these biographical details about DMX, you begin to understand better where his music comes from. Serrano himself has perhaps the best description of DMX when he compares him to Puff Daddy:
“Puffy wanted a plane made of diamonds to fly him to a private island where the beach was also made of diamonds and the natives were big-bottomed women and, guess what, they had diamonds for nipples. DMX did not want a plane. DMX wanted a father. DMX wanted a mother who didn’t abuse him. DMX wanted peace in his heart, but felt fated to emptiness. Puff wanted a dollar because he wanted to be rich. DMX wanted your dollar because he wanted you to be poor.”
That is some wonderful, albeit bleak, writing.
Fourth: The humor.
The incredibly depressing section on DMX notwithstanding, this is an exceedingly clever and funny book that never takes itself too seriously. I found myself laughing out loud more times than I can remember when Serrano wrote such amazing things like:
On Big Sean’s ‘Guap’:
“There was ‘Guap’ which was about money, and he also talked about having sex with seventeen girls at once on it, and that seems excessive, but I guess that’s why they call him Big Sean and not Normal Sean."
On the kinder, mellower late period Ice Cube:
"In 2014, Ice Cube was on Sesame Street. It was a two-minute segment where he did magic tricks while explaining to Elmo what the word ‘astounding’ means. ‘Astounding is when something is soooo amazing, it catches you by surprise’ Cube said, wearing a long-sleeve, nonthreatening aqua-blue button-down shirt, shortly before making a baby dinosaur appear from a top hat.
I wish there was a way that 1988 Ice Cube could be introduced to 2014 Ice Cube. He would be as astounded as a motherfucker."
On Ice-T:
“Ice-T went to a Tupperware party once because he thought Denzel Washington was going to be there. Denzel Washington was not there. Ice-T is interesting.”
On Young Thug:
“Imagine if you could hug your own happiness. Imagine if you took both of your feet and stuck them in a bucket full of warm mud and wiggled your toes around, except that mud isn’t mud, it’s your soul. That’s how Young Thug raps.”
If you are even remotely interested in rap, hip-hop, homo-hop (apparently a thriving sub genre of gay rap), or any of the multitudes of offshoots, this book will have you scrambling to find these songs and make the greatest mix you’ve ever made. Just don’t forget to put some DMX in there.
March 24, 2017
The Rap Year Book by Shea Serrano was, as an authoritative read on the history of rap, a decent read until 1998, until it completely fizzles out of control when Serrano starts to require forming his own opinion.
Major themes, and driving forces were unforgivably omitted - notably the role of the female rapper as an antithesis to the flamboyance and brutality of gangster rap (see- The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill), picking Lifestyle (?!) as best song over Kendrick Lamar's ode to breaking free from the hardships of the hood in "i", or any real explanation of the effect of the internet on rap - be it through pop culture or the creation of bedroom rappers (bar Serranos vague reference with In Da Club).
Yet I kept reading it, playing the songs in the background trying to find a justifiable explanation to many of his fair opinions. Instead? We are served a conversation from Serrano you'd expect in a college dorm, where he himself doubts the vast majority of what he's saying, ideas flowing off tangents, and lines do an injustice to one of the most poetic forms of music.
But looking beyond his major thematic omissions of rap history, his disappointing deliverance of initially good ideas of songs- and even missing the whole plot of Kanye's rap-game-shunning "Monster". I respect Serrano for being one of the first authors to do this. He manages to create humour at times, provides some of the most stunning pop artwork, and has the humility and wisdom to admit the inevitable difficulty (if not impossibility) of creating such a yearbook.
Much like the MCs of the past who tried styles knowing they'd be in the wrong quite often, Serrano does the same hoping to extend our worlds view on musics rebellious darling child- Rap music.
Major themes, and driving forces were unforgivably omitted - notably the role of the female rapper as an antithesis to the flamboyance and brutality of gangster rap (see- The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill), picking Lifestyle (?!) as best song over Kendrick Lamar's ode to breaking free from the hardships of the hood in "i", or any real explanation of the effect of the internet on rap - be it through pop culture or the creation of bedroom rappers (bar Serranos vague reference with In Da Club).
Yet I kept reading it, playing the songs in the background trying to find a justifiable explanation to many of his fair opinions. Instead? We are served a conversation from Serrano you'd expect in a college dorm, where he himself doubts the vast majority of what he's saying, ideas flowing off tangents, and lines do an injustice to one of the most poetic forms of music.
But looking beyond his major thematic omissions of rap history, his disappointing deliverance of initially good ideas of songs- and even missing the whole plot of Kanye's rap-game-shunning "Monster". I respect Serrano for being one of the first authors to do this. He manages to create humour at times, provides some of the most stunning pop artwork, and has the humility and wisdom to admit the inevitable difficulty (if not impossibility) of creating such a yearbook.
Much like the MCs of the past who tried styles knowing they'd be in the wrong quite often, Serrano does the same hoping to extend our worlds view on musics rebellious darling child- Rap music.
April 20, 2016
Ugg, I was gifted this over Christmas by a buddy who already had a copy. (He wrote one of the rebuttals.) It's an interesting book in theory (picking the best rap song by year since 1979) and one I should've loved considering how often I reference EgoTrip's list of greatest rap singles found in their Book of Rap Lists. Unfortunately it falls apart in execution.
It loses points right off the bat for having "Style Maps." Basically clip art used by Serrano to pad out the length of his book. Is reading too tough for you? Well now you have pictures to do the lifting for you!
Next, Shea Serrano is a pretty poor author. Here's a quote of him breaking one of the most elementary rules of composition: "Let me tell you quickly about the beginning of Native Tongues, because that's important, but let me be as cursory as possible without being detrimental." There's so much wrong that I don't even know where to begin here.
I guess my biggest complaint is how needlessly includs himself into every story. Here, instead of "The Native Tongues was an important and polarizing rap movement during this period that..." he's instead framed the discussion around himself. Again. This comes after he decides that he's had enough of this "researching thing" and recounts a pointless story from his childhood rather than discuss Public Enemy's "Fight the Power." I guess he felt two "Style Maps" in one chapter would be gauche. decided to be cursory so he can fit in an aforementioned clip art "Style Map."
Don't get me wrong, I know it's tough nowadays for journalists to make a living. So kudos to Serrano for creating a shtick and sticking with it, no matter how frustrating it is to read. I appluad his ingenuity, and give one star just because it's fun to get reacquainted with (most of) these songs.
It loses points right off the bat for having "Style Maps." Basically clip art used by Serrano to pad out the length of his book. Is reading too tough for you? Well now you have pictures to do the lifting for you!
Next, Shea Serrano is a pretty poor author. Here's a quote of him breaking one of the most elementary rules of composition: "Let me tell you quickly about the beginning of Native Tongues, because that's important, but let me be as cursory as possible without being detrimental." There's so much wrong that I don't even know where to begin here.
I guess my biggest complaint is how needlessly includs himself into every story. Here, instead of "The Native Tongues was an important and polarizing rap movement during this period that..." he's instead framed the discussion around himself. Again. This comes after he decides that he's had enough of this "researching thing" and recounts a pointless story from his childhood rather than discuss Public Enemy's "Fight the Power." I guess he felt two "Style Maps" in one chapter would be gauche. decided to be cursory so he can fit in an aforementioned clip art "Style Map."
Don't get me wrong, I know it's tough nowadays for journalists to make a living. So kudos to Serrano for creating a shtick and sticking with it, no matter how frustrating it is to read. I appluad his ingenuity, and give one star just because it's fun to get reacquainted with (most of) these songs.
February 6, 2016
Quintessential example of why I wish Goodreads had a 3.5 star rating. Excellent primer to hip-hop for the casual fan, introduces the reader to most of the major players and narratives in the genre's history which tends to seem more like the world presented in comic books or action movies than real life. Serrano's writing is specific and sporadic in the best ways, jumping around between objective history, personal opinion and a smattering of other details from his subjects' lives and his own.
The prose is at times infuriating, though- he repeats the same turns of phrase over and over and constantly introduces sections using the format of: "This is a thing, and it may not be an important thing, but it's definitely a thing that happened, so here it is." (One who has read the book may mistake that quote I made up off the top of my head for an actual quote from the book). It's cute at first but gets grating chapter after chapter. I mean, imagine every four pages reading that sentence... "This is not a perfect analogy, but it's not a bad analogy, and I like it, so I decided to make it."
Chose a four over a three because it is a book I'd recommend almost anyone reading despite some minor flaws due to it's overwhelming warmth and enthusiasm and its masterful simplification of the breadth of an entire history of an artist and their song down to a couple pages, and because the illustrations are gorgeous.
The prose is at times infuriating, though- he repeats the same turns of phrase over and over and constantly introduces sections using the format of: "This is a thing, and it may not be an important thing, but it's definitely a thing that happened, so here it is." (One who has read the book may mistake that quote I made up off the top of my head for an actual quote from the book). It's cute at first but gets grating chapter after chapter. I mean, imagine every four pages reading that sentence... "This is not a perfect analogy, but it's not a bad analogy, and I like it, so I decided to make it."
Chose a four over a three because it is a book I'd recommend almost anyone reading despite some minor flaws due to it's overwhelming warmth and enthusiasm and its masterful simplification of the breadth of an entire history of an artist and their song down to a couple pages, and because the illustrations are gorgeous.
April 4, 2016
I loved this so much. I've always been a fan of the Grantland style: definitively ranking subjective things in such specific ways. So detailed, so funny. I laughed out loud and also cried at one point (during the chapter about "Same Love"). Bummed that the only woman really highlighted was Nicki (her verse on "Monster" IS iconic), like where's Kim? Queen Latifah? Salt 'n Pepa? MISSY?! But again, subjective. Super fun read. Highly recommended.
June 9, 2017
One of the best pieces of pop culture writing from one of the best pop culture writers currently working. Shea's work is like creative fuel because it makes you want to be better, funnier, wittier, smarter, more insightful. This was a gorgeous combination of hip hop history lessons and deeeeep fangirl/boy rantings, which is precisely what I would want a Rap Year Book to be. Also, the illustrations and charts are GORGEOUS. Would kill for a few wall-sized posters of these.
December 3, 2015
Like all good music writing, it is very funny, overflowing with love for rap music, history, and culture, and imbued with a healthy and sensible fear of and love for DMX.
January 13, 2016
First book I finished in 2016, what a great start to the year.
May 20, 2018
This started out as such a great and fascinating book. In the early years, it talked about the history of a song and it's importance. Yet as the years went on, it would talk about that less about that instead being filled with antidotes from the author or pop culture references that had nothing to do with the song. When that happened, the book started to lose my interest.
I feel like this happened because the author wasn't born in the early years or didn't grow up with the songs. We're about the same age and while I don't hold that against him, he should have been more focused.
That said, I still think it was a good read and worth it. However, I feel this book would have been better as the basis of a VH1 documentary perhaps hosted by Ice-T or various influence people in the rap game. In fact, they could have started a whole series.
Time to go make a playlist involving with these songs.
I feel like this happened because the author wasn't born in the early years or didn't grow up with the songs. We're about the same age and while I don't hold that against him, he should have been more focused.
That said, I still think it was a good read and worth it. However, I feel this book would have been better as the basis of a VH1 documentary perhaps hosted by Ice-T or various influence people in the rap game. In fact, they could have started a whole series.
Time to go make a playlist involving with these songs.
February 9, 2017
Some of the selections aren't very good, especially early on, where the author is clearly out of his depth. And this could have been capped at some point in the late '90s/early '00s, when rap music ran out of steam creatively, which would have spared us three or four different chapters all on Kanye, and other garbage modern commercial rap that we don't really need to know about. It's light on useful information that's not in the wiki, and there's a lot of college term paper-style filler language, but the presentation is strong, and younger readers might get more out of it than I did.
December 18, 2017
As the title says, not necessarily the best song from each year but the most important--what song changed the game, made a statement, or announced a major new voice. Overall, real solid choices and excellent perspective on the evolution and lasting impact of the genre.
Okay, here's one I would have picked differently: 1995 ("Shook Ones Pt. II" over "Dear Mama").
Okay, here's one I would have picked differently: 1995 ("Shook Ones Pt. II" over "Dear Mama").
December 29, 2017
While it was a great read, it wasn't exactly what I was expecting. Ended up being more of a history of Rap rather than a discussion/debate on why certain songs were picked over others as the most influential song of each year. Would have appreciated a list of which songs were in consideration for each individual year.
December 19, 2023
Laughed out loud multiple times with this one. Could not recommend it more.
January 13, 2018
I was completely enthralled throughout. Serrano's writing is hilarious, witty, and amazing.
Read
February 15, 2025Very enjoyable commentary: creative, often funny, well researched, in snappy prose. It’s no surprise (if you know me) that I have an opinion about the first ten or twelve years of this arc and don’t even recognize many of the names or songs and artists in the last ten or twelve. Only one thing had to be sine qua non and that was putting Rakim at the pinnacle, which Serrano does, so I’m happy to sit back, indulge, and learn from the rest.
One thing I very much appreciated: each chapter (which picks and discourses on a “most important song of the year”) ends with a contrary opinion from another music critic. These are great.
One thing I wish were redone differently: some of the infographic-style pages, though creative, are too hard to read, due to light print or weird color combinations. Eye-strain undermines the cool concept.
One thing I very much appreciated: each chapter (which picks and discourses on a “most important song of the year”) ends with a contrary opinion from another music critic. These are great.
One thing I wish were redone differently: some of the infographic-style pages, though creative, are too hard to read, due to light print or weird color combinations. Eye-strain undermines the cool concept.
August 7, 2023
10/10 everything I wanted this book to be except I wanted it to have more. Why couldn't my physical book be automatically updated with even more chapters for 2015+. MORE MORE MORE I HAD SUCH A FUN TIME READING AND LISTENING AND READING AND THE ART OMG THE ART. Thank you Anna for getting this for me, what an excellent book.
November 2, 2019
I spent several years teaching college students NOT to write like Shea Serrano, i.e., rambling, unconnected, unnecessarily self aware. But I am no longer teaching and Shea has written several books, so what does that say?
Up until around the year 1994, I read the book with fervor and dedication. While I definitely did not agree with everything Serrano says, I still nodded and shrugged and kept it pushing. The things he says about the early years make sense for the most part. But then we get to 1997. Shea's pick? Can't Nobody Hold Me Down. Puff and Mase. Eh. It was definitely a surprising hit and it reinvented Puff as a solo artist and not just a producer. And then Serrano does what he does when he runs out of things to say, and that is list a bunch of stats as though album sales alone explain importance. Also released that year? The Rain by Missy Elliott. I was like, C'monnnnn, dude. That's the biggest gimme ever. This is why terms like "low hanging fruit" are invented. This oversight is even more egregious when you consider that the most important song for every year is by a man or a group of men or a group of men with only one woman. And to add insult to injury, the rebuttal for that year (1997) is written by a woman. Shea, you should know better. I know you know better.
ANYWAY, next comes 1998, and Serrano has the audacity to name Ruff Ryders Anthem as the important song of the year and my brain completely short circuits and damn near explodes because the whole world knows that Ha is one of the greatest--and most important--songs ever made. Not even DMX thinks that his song is more important than the greatness that Juvie spits. X apologies to Juvenile on behalf of Shea Serrano.
So at this point, I am hella skeptical about this whole project because dude's credibility is out the window, rolling down the street and crushed by a mack truck. I have to say Serrano never recovers though. By the time we get to 2004, and he gives the nod to Still Tippin over Knuck if You Buck, I am doing one of those Joker laughs because, dude, you crazy.
I do finish the book, but certainly not with the same energy that I had prior to 1997. It's like when you have a really bad professor but you can't drop the class, so you show up but just doodle in your notebook the whole time and look out the window.
Up until around the year 1994, I read the book with fervor and dedication. While I definitely did not agree with everything Serrano says, I still nodded and shrugged and kept it pushing. The things he says about the early years make sense for the most part. But then we get to 1997. Shea's pick? Can't Nobody Hold Me Down. Puff and Mase. Eh. It was definitely a surprising hit and it reinvented Puff as a solo artist and not just a producer. And then Serrano does what he does when he runs out of things to say, and that is list a bunch of stats as though album sales alone explain importance. Also released that year? The Rain by Missy Elliott. I was like, C'monnnnn, dude. That's the biggest gimme ever. This is why terms like "low hanging fruit" are invented. This oversight is even more egregious when you consider that the most important song for every year is by a man or a group of men or a group of men with only one woman. And to add insult to injury, the rebuttal for that year (1997) is written by a woman. Shea, you should know better. I know you know better.
ANYWAY, next comes 1998, and Serrano has the audacity to name Ruff Ryders Anthem as the important song of the year and my brain completely short circuits and damn near explodes because the whole world knows that Ha is one of the greatest--and most important--songs ever made. Not even DMX thinks that his song is more important than the greatness that Juvie spits. X apologies to Juvenile on behalf of Shea Serrano.
So at this point, I am hella skeptical about this whole project because dude's credibility is out the window, rolling down the street and crushed by a mack truck. I have to say Serrano never recovers though. By the time we get to 2004, and he gives the nod to Still Tippin over Knuck if You Buck, I am doing one of those Joker laughs because, dude, you crazy.
I do finish the book, but certainly not with the same energy that I had prior to 1997. It's like when you have a really bad professor but you can't drop the class, so you show up but just doodle in your notebook the whole time and look out the window.
December 8, 2015
SPIN: Do you consider yourselves prophets?
CHUCK D: I guess so. We're bringing a message that's the same shit that all the other guys that I mentioned in the song have either been killed or deported: Marcus Garvey, Nat Turner, all the way up to Farrakhan and Malcolm X.
What is a prophet? One that comes with a message from God to try to free people. My people are enslaved within their own minds.
Rap serves as the communication that they don't get for themselves to make them feel good about themselves. Rap is black America's TV station. It gives a whole perspective of what exists and what black life is about. And black life doesn't get the total spectrum of information through anything else. They don't get it through print because kids won't pick up no magazines or no books, really, unless it got pictures of rap stars. They don't see themselves on TV. Number two, black radio stations have neglected giving out information.
SPIN: On what?
CHUCK D: On anything. They give out information that white America gives out. Black radio does not challenge information coming from the structure into the black community, does not interpret what's happening around the world in the benefit of us. It interprets it the same way that Channel 7 would. Where it should be, the black station interprets information from Channel 7 and says, "This is what Channel 7 was talking about. Now as far as we're concerned . . ." We don't have that. The only thing that gives the straight-up facts on how the black youth feels is a rap record. It's the number one communicator, force, and source, in America right now. Black kids are listening to rap records right now more than anything, and they're taking it word for word.
The writing is more conversational than compelling. The author gets in his own way with banal stories and a sarcastic tone that undercuts any passion he may have for the subject.
Still, by hitting most of rap's inflection points, it does piece together a memorable history. The book's success comes from its limited scope, making digestible what was, to me, an unfamiliar subject.
Enjoyable.
October 17, 2015
so rap, especially the 1994-2002 (or so) incarnations of it, is pretty dear to my heart. I defend Kanye to anyone who will listen, I went to the On the Run tour for the Jay Z half of the bill, I get in fights with my students (who weren't alive at the time) about West Coast 90s rap. I'm no expert, but I do love it. & then Shea Serrano, my fave Grantland writer/Twitter genius, went and wrote "The Rap Yearbook," which dissects the most important rap song each year going back to 1979. I downed it in a few hours tonight. It's funny, like Serrano always is, and insightful, & I especially loved the last few paragraphs from 1998, about a song I blasted in my car on the way to soccer practice every day, "Ruff Ryders Anthem." I feel like he took this song and this artist and just...treated them seriously, in a way I've never seen before, and out came this poetic nugget of too real truth, contrasting DMX with Diddy. & my secret rap loving heart can barely take it. Anyway, go buy it or whatever
Read
June 2, 2016Ma lugesin seda nagu iga muud populaarteaduslikku raamatut alast, millest ma liiga palju ei tea, aga midagi ikka, vaatasin juutuubist videosid ja harisin ennast ja no nii huvitav oli ja pildid on ilusad ja yks kord ajas kõva häälega naerma ka. Lisaks uutele lemmikutele (Slick Rick, A Tribe Called Quest, Lil Wayne, DMX, Kendrick), mis nyyd muudkui kummitavad, on huvitav ka see, et pärast edasi kinkimist tahaks ma sealt ikkagi kogu aeg asju yle vaadata - yhesõnaga väga hea teatmeteos.
October 22, 2016
The book in general is pretty funny. I love Shea Serrano's writing style.
February 8, 2017
Nostalgia trip, history lesson and comedy all in one. Well done, Shea.
May 23, 2020
Mostly loved this book. I laughed way more than I expected to--Serrano is sharp and funny and equal parts insightful and self-deprecating. Footnotes can often be distracting in this type of book, but they are super-helpful here for both information and jokes. Tons of great anecdotes, both from Serrano's life and the hip hop world, run throughout, along with mostly great art and analysis.
On to my complaints. First off, I wish there were more female voices and fewer typos. The former is way more important--Nicki Minaj is the only female rapper that makes the 36 song list, and that's only as a "featuring." I understand that much of that is an indictment of the rap industry, not Serrano, but there are clearly missed opportunities to talk about influential women in rap (Lauryn Hill, MC Lyte, Missy Elliot, Lil; Kim, Queen Latifah and so on are either barely mentioned or completely absent...I realize Cardi B is post-2014, so I hope maybe an updated version would get there, but still). I know his project is to pick the "most important rap song" from each year, not necessarily the best or the most successful, but it seems to me there are moments in rap history where women redirected the conversation in ways worthy of more of this book's attention. To the latter point, there were just a few too many overt typos--if I catch them on one casual read, that's not good editing. Finally, I found the self-labeled "style maps" pretty uneven--some of the stuff is great, but most of the stuff with the symbols to represent 25 different categorical styles just didn't work for me.
BUT those are small complaints compared to the rest of the positives, which include tons of history I didn't know, a smooth balance between analysis and humor, and a really genuine and interesting and mostly self-aware (and as I said, self-deprecating) authorial voice. It probably also connects with me because I'm close to the same age as Serrano. Regardless, would definitely recommend the book to anyone interested in hip hop, from beginner to expert. I'll definitely revisit sections of it.
On to my complaints. First off, I wish there were more female voices and fewer typos. The former is way more important--Nicki Minaj is the only female rapper that makes the 36 song list, and that's only as a "featuring." I understand that much of that is an indictment of the rap industry, not Serrano, but there are clearly missed opportunities to talk about influential women in rap (Lauryn Hill, MC Lyte, Missy Elliot, Lil; Kim, Queen Latifah and so on are either barely mentioned or completely absent...I realize Cardi B is post-2014, so I hope maybe an updated version would get there, but still). I know his project is to pick the "most important rap song" from each year, not necessarily the best or the most successful, but it seems to me there are moments in rap history where women redirected the conversation in ways worthy of more of this book's attention. To the latter point, there were just a few too many overt typos--if I catch them on one casual read, that's not good editing. Finally, I found the self-labeled "style maps" pretty uneven--some of the stuff is great, but most of the stuff with the symbols to represent 25 different categorical styles just didn't work for me.
BUT those are small complaints compared to the rest of the positives, which include tons of history I didn't know, a smooth balance between analysis and humor, and a really genuine and interesting and mostly self-aware (and as I said, self-deprecating) authorial voice. It probably also connects with me because I'm close to the same age as Serrano. Regardless, would definitely recommend the book to anyone interested in hip hop, from beginner to expert. I'll definitely revisit sections of it.
March 23, 2020
Where have you been all my life? Hilarious, informative, with great charts and timelines and footnotes and cool artwork full of symbols and clever semiotic situations. An informal, conversational (but no less brilliant) tone throughout that'll stop and say things sorta like "Don't worry this chapter is like the other chapters but I'm going to front-load it so I can tell a long story later about when I found a wallet..." Most of the author's points are as funny as they are bulletproof, like where he says the ten-verse Ice-T epic "6 in the Mornin'" is basically a season of Sons of Anarchy. Yes. One of the good seasons. Not that Ireland bullshit (they flew their motorcycles to Ireland? come on!). He also tells a story about Flavor Flav going to Red Lobster in a Ferrari just because, as Serrano points out, that's the most on-brand description of Flavor Flav ever. I also enjoyed how the book makes the case for the importance of each song over which might be considered the best song that year, making it easier to not be so disappointed by the lack of Cypress Hill, Dr. Octagon, and The Beastie Boys (and to a lesser extent 3rd Bass). But probably my favorite observation is when the author lists all of Bushwick Bill's threats, including, "Every arm I chop off I give the fingers to charity..." and then adds: "Bushwick Bill is bad at charity."
March 8, 2024
In honour of International Women's Day during Women's History Month, I'll apologize for reading this book that deals very casually with misogyny. Also no chance it passes the Bechdel test.
Bought this book a few years ago thinking it would be neat to briefly learn some history about rap music, but it falls flat in many regards and should be treated as a coffee table read. Overall the book serves its purpose, but it would have been better served as a twitter thread. Instead of an authoritative chronicling on the history of rap, this book feels like a college dorm conversation filled with pointless anecdotes, meaningless lists, and poor attempts at disguising mean-spirited criticisms as humour. The fact that no female artists were picked over the 35 year span of music tells you enough about the authors biases on what dictates important rap songs.
Gotta complain about one last thing. The author adds his style maps to each song where he picks out verses and assigns (superficial) significance to the song's themes in hopes of tracking the stylistic trends of rap music. There's a section where the author tries (and fails) to sell the importance of these maps to the overarching storytelling, but in the author's own words "The main function of a Style Map is always to look cool" which tells you everything you need to know about the author's approach to writing.
Bought this book a few years ago thinking it would be neat to briefly learn some history about rap music, but it falls flat in many regards and should be treated as a coffee table read. Overall the book serves its purpose, but it would have been better served as a twitter thread. Instead of an authoritative chronicling on the history of rap, this book feels like a college dorm conversation filled with pointless anecdotes, meaningless lists, and poor attempts at disguising mean-spirited criticisms as humour. The fact that no female artists were picked over the 35 year span of music tells you enough about the authors biases on what dictates important rap songs.
Gotta complain about one last thing. The author adds his style maps to each song where he picks out verses and assigns (superficial) significance to the song's themes in hopes of tracking the stylistic trends of rap music. There's a section where the author tries (and fails) to sell the importance of these maps to the overarching storytelling, but in the author's own words "The main function of a Style Map is always to look cool" which tells you everything you need to know about the author's approach to writing.
July 30, 2024
Don’t judge me for the time you see I started this book and then finished it - you’d just look judgy AND be wrong because I started this book a little earlier than that…like 2022.
I finished 75% of it, and stopped not because I didn’t like it. I stopped because I’m in awe of it. This is unbridled LOVE by Shea Serrano for rap music and I’m just not worthy. I love the ideas in this book, and love the love for it. I’m just Wayne come lately to the genre and am too old to feel it in the way Shea feels it, the seminal years of a teen.
I liked to listen to this music from my Pandora channels when I’d work out at the gym or listen on my bike. Now I’m WALKING everyday listening to podcasts.
That said, I really enjoyed this book without the perspective of every hearing the singles and albums, or watching the videos, award shows, and interviews. Shea writes so well through the fun lens of pop culture, list culture, oral timelines and creative alignments from disparate multiverses that lets me know it’s okay to be lower than a novice with this genre. That I respect it, find joy from the joy that others have from it, and it’s an enduring American creation loved around the world. I love storytellers, and hip-hop artists tell stories.
I finished 75% of it, and stopped not because I didn’t like it. I stopped because I’m in awe of it. This is unbridled LOVE by Shea Serrano for rap music and I’m just not worthy. I love the ideas in this book, and love the love for it. I’m just Wayne come lately to the genre and am too old to feel it in the way Shea feels it, the seminal years of a teen.
I liked to listen to this music from my Pandora channels when I’d work out at the gym or listen on my bike. Now I’m WALKING everyday listening to podcasts.
That said, I really enjoyed this book without the perspective of every hearing the singles and albums, or watching the videos, award shows, and interviews. Shea writes so well through the fun lens of pop culture, list culture, oral timelines and creative alignments from disparate multiverses that lets me know it’s okay to be lower than a novice with this genre. That I respect it, find joy from the joy that others have from it, and it’s an enduring American creation loved around the world. I love storytellers, and hip-hop artists tell stories.
December 10, 2023
aspiring to decide the most important rap song of its respective calendar year across 5 decades is a captivating challenge, and a promising feat had this book’s writing was sharper, focused, and contained less of the author’s insertions of self.
a lot distracts The Rap Year Book from materializing as a viable chronology of the genre’s evolution: Serrano’s mid-chapter tangents about films, personal anecdotes (who cares when i hardly know the song itself?), or unserious to-hit-the-word-count listicles; his (flat) humor-cloaked digs at musicians, which reads more as obnoxiously inappropriate than as a reminder of its biases and subjectivity (which the author is entitled to, but ja rule and lil kim deserve their flowers too); and, glaringly, how it’s possible that no woman had the “most important” rap song in the 35 years profiled. foxy brown, lauryn hill, missy elliott, m.i.a., and countless others could’ve easily claimed it (the few of those recognitions were saved for the rebuttals). even nicki minaj’s shine for her Monster feature was undercut by the author introducing it with how he went to see her at a club appearance in houston and marveled on her being late and not wanting pictures taken of her.
this book is what it is—a coffee table read, or just one that doesn’t aim to take itself as seriously as i preferred it would have—but it honestly could’ve sufficed as a Twitter thread (that’s often how his chapters read as). granted, there are some thoughtful analyses (the ones in the “N*ggas In Paris” or “Hustlin’” chapters, for example), but i hoped that these were consistent throughout. granularity, instead of fluff, would’ve improved this a great deal for me. shout out to the illustrator and the rebuttal writers, though.
a lot distracts The Rap Year Book from materializing as a viable chronology of the genre’s evolution: Serrano’s mid-chapter tangents about films, personal anecdotes (who cares when i hardly know the song itself?), or unserious to-hit-the-word-count listicles; his (flat) humor-cloaked digs at musicians, which reads more as obnoxiously inappropriate than as a reminder of its biases and subjectivity (which the author is entitled to, but ja rule and lil kim deserve their flowers too); and, glaringly, how it’s possible that no woman had the “most important” rap song in the 35 years profiled. foxy brown, lauryn hill, missy elliott, m.i.a., and countless others could’ve easily claimed it (the few of those recognitions were saved for the rebuttals). even nicki minaj’s shine for her Monster feature was undercut by the author introducing it with how he went to see her at a club appearance in houston and marveled on her being late and not wanting pictures taken of her.
this book is what it is—a coffee table read, or just one that doesn’t aim to take itself as seriously as i preferred it would have—but it honestly could’ve sufficed as a Twitter thread (that’s often how his chapters read as). granted, there are some thoughtful analyses (the ones in the “N*ggas In Paris” or “Hustlin’” chapters, for example), but i hoped that these were consistent throughout. granularity, instead of fluff, would’ve improved this a great deal for me. shout out to the illustrator and the rebuttal writers, though.
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