An Argument for Top 5 Debates

I know, I know. I’m sick of them too. And not just the top 5 debates, but really any discussion that leads to comparing artists. And don’t let it be with people from different generations. Then we just end up in the same cycle of old heads claiming young people don’t know anything and nobody ever agrees. Kinda like when that one young dude started a whole thing about Jim Jones being more relevant than Nas. If you’re like me, you’re over all of these verbal contests that don’t seem to have any benefit. I get it…but hear me out.

Allow me to take a quick detour. A few months ago, Kevin Durant–as is his custom–was on Twitter (I’m never calling it by that other name), responding to critical comments from NBA fans. One fan happened to ask KD if it hurt that some people devalue his legacy for certain choices he made in his career. Durant’s response was “It means nothing…we live and then we die and people move on with life. After a while, nobody will remember anything from this era [of basketball]. It’s just life 🤷🏾‍♂️ .” To some degree, he’s not wrong. With every new era and generation, the impact and significance of the previous one fades. As with anything, there may be certain figures whose legacy stands the test of time, but many others will, for all intents and purposes, have their histories forgotten. Both the fan's question and KD’s answer speak to our human condition of being preoccupied with history and legacy. I believe that it is this same preoccupation that led to the viral clip of the young man sharing his opinion about Nas and Jim and the backlash that followed.

This preoccupation with history is for good reason: there is significant value in knowing your history and being able to draw upon that knowledge to make informed decisions for the future. What we sometimes fail to acknowledge is that for all the history any of us knows, there is still a significant amount of history we either do not know, have forgotten, or just don’t have the same level of appreciation that generations prior do. And just as that is true for us, it is true for the generations that follow. Therefore, we have to come to grips–as KD has–with the fact that not everything that holds significance to us will hold significance to those who are further removed from our history and the history that predates us. That doesn’t mean that we don’t attempt to pass down history and knowledge or that we give up on helping people understand why knowing your history is so important. What it does mean is that as each of us transition from being the current generation to the former generation, we appreciate what was and create space for what is to come.

Creating that space can be a hard thing to do. If we’re real with ourselves, others not appreciating something the way we do can be discomforting (understandably so). However, in our worry and doubt about how well informed the next generation is, two things usually happen: 1) we fail to see how previous generations likely view us the same way and 2) we can begin to feel as if almost no history is being kept or preserved. Often, that prevailing feeling doesn’t allow for us to acknowledge the ways in which we all collectively keep some version of historical records. This includes the youngest generations who–whether consciously or subconsciously–emulate what they have seen modeled, in terms of keeping legacies and histories alive. Within hip hop specifically, the culture has a way of maintaining its history and legacy in some of the most organic ways, and it is done so by fans and artists alike. Some forms of documenting history are perhaps more noticeable than others, but when we take a moment to examine the common practices in the culture, we may find that even instances when we feel like history is being erased are the precise times when it can, and is, being told. Let’s see if I can convince you at all.

Before we even get to music, let’s talk about how we as fans play a crucial role in this history telling. Every single one of us has engaged in a “top 5” discussion. These rankings have existed for as long as anybody can remember–and will continue into perpetuity. It seems that another one of humans’ most base instincts is to crown somebody to be superior over others. We can’t help but draw comparisons. Arguments about who or what is the “best” or “GOAT”--or minimally the top 5–in any category of life has become one of the most common daily discussions. Although this practice of comparison is almost as natural as breathing, the debates about who is the “top 5” seems to be the most insufferable among sports and hip hop communities. On countless talk shows, podcasts, radio shows, and online publications, as well as at almost any barbershop, cookout, graduation celebration, or anywhere two or more are gathered, who have more than a remote interest in either topic, it is inevitable that lists will be created and challenged. These have become so commonplace that people swear they will no longer debate lists because there is never a consensus and the lines between genuine hot takes and trolling continue to get more blurred. No surprise that the promises to forgo these talks are broken the moment a new list is offered. And so we continue in this cycle of dissecting and assessing where people exist among those who have had some of the most significant impact on their profession. There is, however, one significant difference between hip hop and sports, which makes the importance of these discussions part of the lifeblood of hip hop culture.

While these debates can become redundant, frustrating, and annoying, I could also argue (no pun intended) that it is one of the most vital ways that hip hop is able to preserve its history. Unlike most major sports, which have leagues and staff members dedicated to documenting and archiving as much history as humanly possible about their respective leagues, hip hop has no such league or entity to protect its history or story in the same way. The NBA, for example, for its 75th anniversary, was able to showcase the top 75 players in the league’s history. Although everybody may not agree with the list, it is universally accepted that the NBA is the premier league for basketball, and so their top 75 players represent not only the best players for that particular league, but the best basketball players ever. And so the histories of those individual players, and the history of the sport itself*, can be retained much more cleanly and neatly than it can in hip hop. Yet, from hip hop’s inception, it was never concerned with the masses and always utilized what was readily available–well before it was able to generate billions of dollars and be accepted into the mainstream. Just as it has made history in the most organic and creative ways, I think it has preserved it the same ways.

As I mentioned a little earlier, the hip hop community at large–fans, media outlets, etc.--typically preserve history through top 5, top 10, or some variation of a list that is designed to determine who should be recognized as the best to ever do it. There will never be consensus, but what it invites is for people to talk about not only the names that are on the list, but also consider those who are not, since there’s usually disagreement about both the order and notable absences from the respective lists. With every deliberation, names of hip hop royalty–both who made whatever the original list started the verbal dispute, and those who did not–maintain some level of relevance and memory simply by being mentioned. This is especially true when old-heads get into it with the young’ns who want to crown somebody like Lil Uzi as the greatest and have no inkling as to who Melle Mel is. I can see the steam rising off some readers’ heads right now just thinking about how frustrating that conversation would be (or was for those who recently had it). But consider how much more disappointing it would be to not have that conversation at all and Melle Mel’s name is never mentioned to that young person who may not know or have an interest in the history of artists who were dropping music two or more generations before their time. While it may seem small, the point of contention creates the space for verbal histories to be told and retold, in some of the most organic ways. 

In addition to the top 5 debates, artists themselves help maintain history. One of the most distinct ways that hip hop has done this is through sampling. By borrowing and repurposing previously released music by other artists, hip hop producers have not only helped maintain the history of hip hop itself, but from music in general. While some samples may be harder to identify than others, using the sample requires an account both in both audio (the literal music being used) and written (the credit for the sample used in liner notes and elsewhere) form. Beyond sampling, MCs help maintain the legacy and history of artists who influenced them by borrowing lyrics and incorporating them in their own rhymes. In many ways, this serves as a verbal–rather than an instrumental–form of sampling. Of course, when doing this, artists run the risk of “biting” accusations by fans. However, whether or not fan views the borrowing of the lyrics as a true form of homage or lazy attempt to pass somebody else’s work off as their own, the history of that line itself, the song in which it was originally stated, and the artist who originally rapped it are uplifted and given a chance to be remembered beyond the height of their popularity. 

What makes both of these methods–lyrics and sampling–even more beautiful is that they are extensions of the ancestral practices that have been with us for thousands of years. Many have compared MCs to the griots of the mother continent, who employed oral traditions to tell and retell the history of their people. Further, as a way of survival, our enslaved ancestors had to bury and code messages into music and find other creative ways of passing along messages to one another in order to not be detected. Both the skill to construct the message and be able to intercept the message was the epitome of IYKYK. Similarly, certain bars used by rappers or samples used by producers may only be caught or recognized by those who are truly in the know and have a key awareness of  

True to its roots, hip hop has found ways to keep its own historical records in lieu of traditional methods, especially when there may not be the same opportunities afforded to other institutions. That’s not to say that there aren’t traditional methods being employed to keep a record of hip hop’s past. Today, there are museums, documentaries, and other forms of historical records dedicated to preserving the legacies of hip hop’s most prominent acts–and the culture more broadly. That said, they are all held by different entities, none of which can claim to be the single authority of what/who can and should be represented. In some ways, this can actually be a good thing: you get multiple perspectives about the history, a variety of ways that stories are told, and more people or things being recognized in ways they may not otherwise be if everything was controlled by a sole governing body. The downside to the splintered nature of this history is that it is usually more localized and less likely to reach a mass audience. So, while the history exists, fewer people are able to see/hear that history than they might on a more national stage (again, think the televised acknowledgement of the NBA’s top 75 players during their All Star Game). 

Regardless of how far the reach is of any one particular method, mechanism, or institution that is used to tell hip hop’s history, it is clear that there are both natural (top 5 discussions, sampling, lyrical) and intentional (podcasts, museums, etc.) efforts to archive what hip hop has done, and continues to do. There are other important conversations that still need to be had about hip hop and its historical legacy: can more be done to ensure as much history is documented as possible; the extent to which any generation does or does not care about former generations’ contributions; the difference between honoring history and being stuck in the past. These and other topics related to hip hop’s history are all worthy of exploration. Yet, none of these should be confused with a lack of desire, or failure, to acknowledge and preserve what has come before the present moment by countless people within hip hop culture. If nothing else, hip hop continues to borrow from its broader ancestry and heritage by using oral traditions and the finite resources at its disposal to to maintain former legacies, as well as build up new ones.