Hip-Hop (And Other Things) is an entertaining celebration of rap music. Each of the 32 chapters focuses on a specific hip-hop history question: the most perfect duo in rap history, whether Action Bronson is a good travel partner, 2Pac or Biggie? Reading each chapter is like spending a couple of hours in the pub shooting the breeze with an engaging colleague who not only knows more about music than you do, but, annoyingly, is also smarter and funnier than you are.
The strength of Hip-Hop (And Other Things) is that Serrano clearly loves hip-hop. The weakness is that Serrano clearly loves hip-hop. The taint of saccharin becomes notable after a few chapters, when it becomes clear that Serrano's favoured artists are almost infallible. Serrano is the single hip-hop obsessive in the world unable to decide whatsoever between 2Pac and Biggie. When there are preferences, Serrano protests that if really, really forced he marginally, slightly, prefers Filet Mignon to Lobster Thermidor. While Biggie edges out Nas, the music of Nas still births universes, a line so good it is later used for Biggie as well. The cloying feel to the book misses the fact that love and heartbreak are intertwined. Everyone who loves hip-hop has their list of personal disappointments. I'm still scarred by the rapid realisation that Tha Alkoholiks 1997 album, Likwidation, was not the genre-defining breakthrough I anticipated.
Serrano's writing works is ideally suited to the Internet, and is less convincing in book form. After a few chapters you realise that each chapter works on the same formula. Make a list of hip-hop references, formulate a catchy question-based title, and find a twist so it looks like it wasn't just a list. Then liberally mix in movie references and the odd pseudo-intellectual reference (ideally cognitive neuroscience) and the chapter writes itself. When Serrano sticks to the basics it works well, as when he suggests the best person for a guest verse in each period through the history of rap. It works less well in other cases. Lauryn Hill's career being quantified as a basketball shooting percentage is convoluted. Giving various Nas lyrics a 'percent Nasian' reference feels similarly forced, particularly when a nondescript line by Nas's standards ("My window faced shootouts, drug overdoses") gets a high 94 percent score.
Despite these relative quibbles, Hip Hop (And Other Things) is a smart, amusing history of an art-form that has increasingly received the literary attention it deserves. Readers will find themselves nodding away as vigorously as if they were listening to a DJ Premier track. Even for a celebration of hip-hop, it is overly positive, with Serrano channelling his inner Voltaire to claim that all is for the best is this best of all possible hip-hop worlds. The thing is, he's largely right. Hip-Hop is fantastic. Celebrate it with Serrano.