Artwork by Joseph Devens.


It's hard to imagine nowadays with the Oprah canoodling, lifestyle blogging, and learned taste for indie rock, but Jay-Z wasn't always so antiseptic. Before "Beach Chair" and his current legacy rap period, Hova boasted a bruising batting average: ten ghetto anthems for every "Lobster & Shrimp" banana peel. Beyond the Bloomberg brunches or uptown art gallery openings with delicate bffs lies an increasingly-overlooked corpus banished in a Disney-like vault.

Jay-Z has hardened into a role model, an author, the Bohemian rap city's generous boss, and a sucker for love. He'll probably be an elected official one day. He'll probably be remembered as affectionately for foreign aid trips to the Congo as he is for hungry rapping.

Folks love to draw Jordan parallels in hip-hop, but Jay-Z is more Bill Russell -- the tireless laborer with more rings than anyone. Jordan left the court (at least the first two times) with a flawless record; like Russ, Jay-Z's had awkward, gangly moments of fatigue and error.

But the difference between sports and music, of course, is that in music the entire point is the journey, the work left for consumption. The sports winner immortalizes the present. You generally don't watch highlights of specific jumpers over and over. Jay-Z has made a double album's worth of terrible music (and that's just with R. Kelly), but he's also left behind a treasure chest of top tier, fully realized, expertly narrated albums.

It's why ATG believes that Jay-Z is the best rapper of all-time. There's an argument to be made about raw talent and iconography, a stupider one to be made factoring in wealth and branding, but because the G.O.A.T. conversation stems from music, the prevailing criterion must be the music itself. Biggie made two albums and the second one was spotty, Diddy-heavy. Tupac recorded urgently in order to fulfill an exploitative contract, and quality control suffered. Neither will stop the seekers from copying and pasting verses (over J Dilla beats, probably) long after we're gone. Who will remix "Money Ain't A Thang?"

The Blueprint III was Emmitt Smith on the Cardinals. It was playing catch with your dad during winter break, as he struggled to compose the spirals you used to have to go long for. It sucked. The long-awaited duet album with Kanye West will suck too.

Without touching any singles, ATG's inner circle spent weeks narrowing down hundreds of fantastic, somewhat deeper cuts into a spiraling, essential mix of Jay-Z at his most inventive, honest, dazzling, and charismatic. It's a mix meant to be consumed with the windows down, on the tro, during cookouts. No consideration was given to the scope of an individual track's project or date. These greatest non-hits are intended to survey Jay's entire catalogue from peak to peak. They're intended to make heads nod for more reasons than one. They are, as the man himself once taught us, for the culture.


SIDE A

1. A Million and One Questions / Rhyme No More
2. Can I Live
3. Heart of the City
4. December 4
5. Kingdom Come
6. U Don't Know [Remix]
7. Guess Who's Back
8. Never Let Me Down
9. Girls Girls Girls, Part II
10. Party Life
11. What More Can I Say
12. Takeover
13. Ignorant Shit
14. Renegade

SIDE B
 
1. It's Like That
2. Snoopy Track
3. Never Change
4. In My Lifetime [Remix]
5. Come On Baby [Remix]
6. Dear Summer
7. This Can't Be Life
8. So Ghetto
9. P.S.A.
10. Hell Yeah [Remix]
11. Watch Me
12. Watcher II
13. Black Republican
14. Momma Loves Me


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All photos by Callie Richmond for ATG.

Here's an itemized breakdown of the sites and sounds Reggie and I experienced during March's South by Southwest Music Conference in Austin, Texas. It was fun and intense. More importantly, hit the jump to sample ATG's avalanche of wonderful, exclusive photos taken and procured in the name of hip-hop.  

Reggie

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Ramon

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ATG chatted with consumate hip-hop ornament Fonzworth Bentley over at BET. Reggie's Q&A interview goes deep.

ATG spoke to Atmosphere's rapper half, Slug, over at the City Paper. Dude is nice. Literally, he's a swell guy.

Photo by Callie Richmond for ATG.

Reggie and I spent the South by Southwest music conference comparing notes and writing for others. ATG will come through with blessed recaps and astonishing photos from an unreal week of hip-hop that boasted staggering levels of star power.

Yes, we got into Kanye: I had to make moves bro, put my shades on and walked in through the VIP line.

ATG spoke to exceptional Detroit producer/slightly-less-exceptional-but-wholly-dope rapper Black Milk over at the City Paper.

All photos by Callie Richmond for ATG.

First, the internal, editorial decision was made to give up on the medium and forgo a rundown about rap videos. There were some cool ones, but listing them wouldn't be indicative of what was being bumped in the clubs, the streets, the subways, the cars, and through the earphones. More importantly, there's no competition.

As individualistic and fickle as listeners continue to be, this year-end list is defined by uniting, thumping moments that kept everyone zoned out in headphone bliss for days on end. In 2010, heavyweights emerged and veterans forcefully pushed back, but not in a Raekwon v. Kid Cudi, two schools sort of way like last year. By now we all understand it's all good. With such a precondition firmly in place, creativity burned down regional barriers like never before. Save for New York City's inbred, traditionalist talent pool (good luck there pushing Vado, you guys), American rap soared and 2010 will stand along any year's genre output.

I maintain it's Kanye West's fourth-best record, Reggie does not.