I could only save the greatest til last. Undoubtedly, the genre that has dominated the last decade not just in terms of music, but in culture at large is Rap music, and everything under its umbrella. The rapid evolution and unstoppable rise that we’ve seen, to me makes the 2010’s The Second Golden Age, and one that (no disrespect intended) has even eclipsed the legends of the original mid-80s to mid-90s run. Hear me out: they lay the blueprints — but today’s kings & queens have successfully forced the world to fold to their vision rather than simply railing against it. Unlike any other genre this decade, they’ve been prolific without sacrificing quality, they’ve constantly collaborated without losing any individuality, and they’ve represented the truest counter-culture without compromise. There’s been some major setbacks, but every time things started to look bleak, another superhero would come and save the day. This is their theme music.
Kanye West — My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy (2010)
I could (and most likely, will) write whole essays on the significance and success of MBDTF as both a hip hop record and an artefact of our time. Whatever criticism people make of Kanye’s music, I also point to this as evidence that he knows how to make a perfect album — 2010 was just the year he felt like proving it. Limiting myself to 1 album per artist was particularly hard for this segment and Ye was a large reason why. Arguably Yeezus which followed 3 years later was more envelope-pushing, more ground-breaking. But this is just beyond doubt his magnum opus, his masterpiece. The beats, the samples, the lyrics — the likes of which we’d never hear from him again. The artwork, the instrumentation, the features! Here was a man working at the peak of his power, and bringing his friends along for the ride. It was everything a blockbuster hip hop album should be, and he knew it. There’s a reason people still think he’s the best — it’s because we know what he can do.
Listen on Spotify: My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy
Drake — Take Care (2011)
Another artist whose catalogue makes it near impossible to single out one defining record — Toronto’s own Drizzy Drake owned the decade in more ways than one. The run he really kicked off with Take Care through Nothing Was The Same and then icy cold If You’re Reading This… is absolutely flawless, but for the purposes of celebration, I’ve started with the album that really set out his masterplan. It had everything: endlessly quotable lyrics (“I guess we’ll never know where Harvard gets us, But seeing my family have it all / took the place of that desire for diplomas on the wall”), the best break up song of the decade in ‘Marvin’s Room’ and guests from Just Blaze to Stevie Wonder, Rihanna to Andre 3000. But at the centre of it all we saw the birth of a singular character in hip hop — one whose detractors would forever call ‘soft’ but who, to his innumerable listeners, was forever relatable. I can’t count a single lonely night in the 10’s when I didn’t listen to Drake. That’s something.
Listen on Spotify: Take Care
ASAP Rocky — Live. Love. A$AP (2011)
It’s hard to remember it now, but when ‘That Pretty Motherfucker’ from Harlem released this mixtape for free, no-one knew him. Not for a long time before or since had a rapper emerged with a project so cohesive. This was in no small part thanks to teaming up with another then-unknown; the producer Clams Casino. Not unlike Drake and 40 before them, these 2 were the perfect team — they understood each others’ style completely and so were able to bind together with thrilling results. 1 second into the Adiemus-sampling opener ‘Palace’ and you’ll understand it immediately. They created an effortless cool that no-one else at the time was carrying off. But the tape also introduced us to the A$AP Mob, from producer Ty Beats, so Nast and of course Ferg. At the time critics called in ‘cloud-rap’ but Rocky quickly proved he was the ultimate wave-maker and could never be tied down to any fad. He continues to push boundaries and lead the way nearly 10 years on, and is still totally fresh.
Listen at HotNewHipHop: Live. Love. A$AP
J. Cole — Born Sinner (2013)
Many hip hop fans may be surprised to see this album here instead of his follow-up 2014 Forest Hills Drive — the album that famously went platinum with no features and cemented his place in hip hop canon. But it was this album that had me completely sold on the MC. Released intentionally on the same day as Kanye’s Yeezus it was Cole making a statement of intent: he was coming for his place at the top. It came out just before I went on holiday and I remember listening to it front to back all week, which for me is part of what makes a classic — the inability to skip a single song. Across its 16 tracks Cole lays out his unique personality, voice and drive to consistent results. And more remarkably, he dances along the tightrope between conscious rap and pop music — for me — in a far more palatable way than superstars this decade. The title track closer is the ultimate climax; a gospel choir singing “I was born sinning but I live better than that / If you ain’t fucking with that, I don’t care”
Listen on Spotify: Born Sinner
Travis Scott — Rodeo (2015)
Sure, Drake, Kendrick and Cole were all Princes to Kanye’s King. But in the ’10s, one album stuck out as the true descendant to Ye — Rodeo. It had the scale (26 different producers, plus Scott himself; features from everyone from Bieber to T.I.) It had the experimental soundscapes (The constant beat switches, ‘90210’) But most of all, it had the vision. Travis immediately presented himself as a man with his eyes on the stars; restlessly throwing out song after song, each more unexpected than the last. But crucially it was all sequenced perfectly and working so well as an album. Sure, it had the big banger in ‘Antidote’, but you’d never skip to it because you knew you were being taken on a journey. Sure it was Trap Rap, but there was a higher purpose behind the drug-taking, the opulence. This was interstellar. He made good on the album’s promise again last year on ‘Astroworld, — Rodeo’s spiritual follow-up that proved it wasn’t just a fluke but a beginning.
Listen on Spotify: Rodeo
Kendrick Lamar — To Pimp A Butterfly (2015)
It’s hard to say anything about this record that hasn’t already been said. According to aggregator sites, it’s the highest rated album of the decade — in any genre — and for good reason. Timing has a lot to do with the cultural impact an album makes, and for TPAB it came at a time in the U.S. when the Black community had had enough of the unjust and senseless killing of their unarmed young people at the hands of the police. Kendrick had always been a man of the people; and his previous (equally good but less impactful) album good kid, M.A.A.D City perfectly captured the black experience on a neighbourhood scale. But this follow up was worldwide; perfectly summed up with “It’s funny how Zulu and Xhosa might go to war / Two tribal armies that want to build and destroy. Remind me of these Compton Crip gangs that live next door / Beefin’ with Pirus, only death settle the score” He shone an uncomfortable light on current events for all who heard, and we needed to hear it — for the future of mankind. That’s the power it has.
Listen on Spotify: To Pimp A Butterfly
Freddie Gibbs — Shadow Of A Doubt (2015)
Many will have Freddie Gibbs’ seminal team-up with Madlib Piñata in their best of decade lists — a landmark collab between one of hip hop’s great producers and its meanest rapper. It was amazing (and this year’s sequel was even better) but it was so crammed with features that it took away from the real star — Freddie Kane. In my mind, he’s the most tragically underrated hip hop act of the decade and his skills should be lauded alongside the likes of Pusha T et al. Shadow.. is, to me, the best example of what he does best: razor sharp lyricism with bulletproof flows over ice cold menacing beats. He experiments with delivery constantly over the 15 tracks and every single one is a success. Whether he’s playfully rapping over a George Michael sample or trading bars about selling cocaine with Black Thought (and entirely holding his own) he shines throughout. The following year he was imprisoned in Austria for a crime he didn’t commit, and his career looked in real danger. Luckily, he bounced back and hasn’t stopped since.
Listen on Spotify: Shadow Of A Doubt
Danny Brown — Atrocity Exhibition (2016)
Danny Brown has long been underestimated because of his deranged, cartoon-like delivery and wild drug-party songs. Don’t get me wrong, he did both of these things extremely effectively. But 6 years after his debut project, he’d had enough of the pigeon hole. Atrocity Exhibition speaks from the man behind the nihilism and forces us to ask how complicit we are as listeners enjoying the sounds of men falling apart. Sonically, it was still as crazed as ever; but this time there was a grim-faced determination behind his raps. He’d always spoken about the abject poverty he’d grown up around in Detroit, but now he was drawing a line from that, to the way he lives now. On lead single ‘When It Rain’ he captures it with “Doomed from the time we emerge from the womb…Ain’t no water, how a flower gonna grow?” His long-time production partner Paul White was still at the helm, but now his creations came with it a tense, unnerving desperation not unlike a horror film. Call it goth-trap; fitting for an album named after a Joy Division song.
Listen on Spotify: Atrocity Exhibition
Young Thug — JEFFERY (2016)
2016 was the year that Young Thug went from scattershot mixtape fiend to Album Artist. Suddenly, his projects went from patchy, 19-song anthologies, to punchy, 9-song mission statements. Slime Season 3 came first, in March and in many ways it was almost as great as this. But the arrival of JEFFERY in August felt like a meteor crashing to Earth, cracking opening and birthing a purple alien with the most amazing mating cry. Each of the songs on it are named after people Thugger admired (yes, even Harambe) and he doesn’t waste a single second of its 38 minutes proving that he is this generation’s answer to Bowie, Prince and Andre 3000 combined. Many will scoff at such loft comparisons — but once you’re really on board with what he’s doing it makes perfect sense. Just listen to ‘RiRi’ for example (so called, presumably as a nod to its “Do the work, baby do the work” chorus) The only way I can describe what he does with his voice is sounding like a sealion. And it was still the best pop song of the year. Who else would dare? Who else could?
Listen on Spotify: JEFFERY
Pusha T — Daytona (2018)
If you know, you know — Pusha T has been Top 5 for a very long time, but it took just over 20 minutes last year for everyone to final stand up and give him the round of applause he was so dearly overdue. It had been a frustrating journey as a fan — 2013’s My Name Is My Name came close to capturing his essence but was let down by too many features and some chart-reaches. 2015’s Darkest Before Dawn was much closer to what he was all about, but was billed as a prelude and so didn’t feel totally complete. But it took Kanye’s mad summer of five albums at 7 songs each to harness Push’s dark magic. Yes, he was still rapping about selling drugs and hiding money, but you cling on to every word like a courtroom drama. It was also the album that launched the feud with Drake, and showed that even a God could bleed. No other MC this decade had both the malice and the technical precision to bring down one so huge so completely. But Daytona perfectly demonstrates how much he can do with so little, like a dagger in your side. Long live King Push.
Listen on Spotify: Daytona
Honourable Mentions
It would be easy for me to write a Top 100 hip hop albums from the decade, and still be tormented by what got left out — testament to what a wild 10 years it’s been for the genre. Even on my side of the pond, just when we thought it was dead in the water, UK hip hop finally has a scene to be truly proud of, thanks to the unfaltering passion and drive of Skepta, Stormzy, Dave, Slowthai, Little Simz, J Hus, Giggs, Trim, and so many more. We’ve seen the reign of the record label rise again with TopDawgEntertainment, something I thought was left in the 90s and early 00s. We’ve watched the mixtape world take over the charts, which too would have seemed unfathomable just 10 years ago — just look at Future’s mighty run of Monster, Beast Mode and 56 Nights in less than 6 months, transforming the scene to his will. In short, rap fans have been eating, and we’ve been spoilt. But more than any other genre, there have been tragedies too, and we’ve lost heroes to drugs, violence and depression. So celebrate every piece of art we get. Here’s 10 more:
Chance The Rapper — Acid Rap (2013)
Back in ‘13 Chance was a relative unknown with some big friends (Childish Gambino, Ab-Soul) But Acid Rap changed that. It elevated him to the independent king; the quirky new kid in class with the raspy, bouncy flow. It also kickstarted the new wave of Chicago innovators along with Saba, Noname, Vic Mensa and more. The most promising mixtape.
Run The Jewels — RTJ2 (2014)
El-P & Killer Mike had teamed up first in 2012, when the former produced the entirety of Mike’s amazing R.A.P. Music. But it wasn’t until their second album as RTJ that it became completely undeniable that somehow, these two men in their forties — both decades into their careers — were now the most vital duo in hip hop, and show no sign of slowing down.
Mick Jenkins — The Water[s] (2014)
A confounding rapper in that his lyricism and flow are among the best in the game, but somehow he hasn’t got his due. This is best demonstrated on breakout tape The Water[s], a concept record centred around many different aqua metaphors. Thematically deep but bops from start to finish, it shows Jenkins’ keen sense of melody and sharp eye for detail.
Vince Staples — Summertime ’06 (2015)
I don’t know how Vince Staples had the guts to make his first studio album a double with no rap features but I’m so glad he did. Entirely produced by No I.D., DJ Dahi and Clams Casino, sonically it couldn’t fail. But its Staples’ harsh, unflinching accounts of gang life in North Long Beach that elevate the project to Great status. Carving out his own space to come.
Future — DS2 (2015)
No conversation about the best hip hop of the decade would make any sense at all without the inclusion of Future Hendrixx. After a swing for the charts with ‘14’s Honest, Future had a child with then-fiancée Ciara who left him just 3 months later due to his infidelity. DS2 soundtracks his retreat back to the murky shadows, and what a cold thrill it was to witness.
Skepta — Konnichiwa (2016)
The UK grime scene had been grinding away in the underground since its the early 00’s, but it took Tottenham’s own Skepta, a full 10 years in the game to throw it into the mainstream like a brick through a police car window. With ‘It’s Not Safe’, ‘That’s Not Me’ and ‘Shutdown’ he gave the country real anthems again, while never shying away from gritty truths.
Jay-Z — 4:44 (2017)
Shoot me, but I’d always thought Jay-Z was overrated. But there was something about the dusty, off-the-cuff creativity of his 13th album that finally collared me in. It covered everything from his marital indiscretions and his mother’s coming-out, to wider concerns with race, wealth and identity. A stunningly raw confessional from a rap giant.
Stormzy — Gun Signs & Prayer (2017)
After Skepta had blown the doors off for grime on the international stage, the rules changed. . Stormzy’s opening gambit wore its heart on its sleeve, managing to both express religious servitude while threatening your face with a boot. It changed what UK rap had to sound like and took it to a much higher place than ever before. A UK hero.
BROCKHAMPTON — Saturation 2 (2017)
At the end of 2017 I refused to choose a favourite of the group’s trilogy and named all 3 joint-AOTY. But I’ve tried again this time and it strikes me now that the centre project is the best example of what the band achieved that year. Lightning in a bottle doesn’t cover it — they really are the best boyband in the world and this was the moment they proved it.
Mac Miller — Swimming (2018)
Malcolm James McCormick spent the 2010’s perfectly crafting his rap and production skills until he had reached a creative apex that no one could touch. Tragically, his best album would be his last as we lost him only a month later. It makes listening to the album all the more painful, as it sounded like a man finally rising above his demons. We’ll never forget him.
