What Happened to My Hip-Hop?

Reminiscences, Part the First

    One of the things I really loved about Def Jam records way back when was the 12" singles they released.  Every Def Jam artist had their singles packaged in the same manner.  After they dropped the original maroon sleeves (T La rock, L.L. Cool J's first couple records...) and went with the classic black look.  The tone arm was still on there and the lettering was more bold in it's silver/gray font on top of the darker sleeve.  That was a brand, it seemed every other indie label (yes kids, Def Jam was once an indie label, too) was mainly releasing picture sleeves with cats wearing airbrushed sweatshirts or somesuch other mid-80's nonsense that somehow seemed cool at the time.  You could walk into a record store in those days and see rows upon rows, upon racks, upon shelves of singles and albums for sale - it was all a bit much.  Loud-assed neon colors and graff-written logos thrust into your eyeballs.  But, you also instantly knew what Def Jam had on the shelves.  And for a long time (at least in music shelf-life terms) you knew it was some quality, real music.  I don't remember a Def Jam single with a picture sleeve until "You're Gonna Get Yours" from Public Enemy in 1987.  We all kind of stared for a minute - just looking at all these dudes and the Oldsmobile's like, "what the fuck is this all about, then?".  There was not a single reliable music press representing rap music back then where one could have read some well-written and informative article about just who these guys were.  You really only had short 1-2 hour shows on college radio if you wanted to hear hip hop that was new or stuff you didn't already own.  

    But we bought that Public Enemy single anyway, on the strength (boyeeee) of it's being from Def Jam.  Who were these guys? Who the fuck is the "Bomb Squad"? Well, history will tell you know all that you need to know, if you already don't.  They could be forgiven for not going with that classically elegant, minimalist design.  That shiny black rectangle of cardboard with it's circle of plastic inside, safely nestled in it's paper blanket.  Public Enemy was quickly forgiven, just seconds into "You're Gonna Get Yours" I realized things had just changed and for good in hip-hop.

    That shiny black sleeve with the gray tone arm and letters was something you sought out.  It was the music version of a UL tag that you see on electrical products, it was tried and tested - and made the cut.  There was a very good chance that Rick Rubin produced it, it could be L.L.'s new joint or maybe Slick Rick's latest - but you could be sure it was from New York and for a good while you could count on it being dope.  You would cut the plastic wrapping on the side where the sleeve opened, juuuuuust enough to slide the record out, but still have a serviceable dust cover for this new gem.  You would hold the vinyl disc in the heels of the palms of your hands to read the label and blow off any cat hair that the static electricity sucked onto the grooves like some goddamn tractor beam.  We always had cats.  Then, you would lay it (gently, now) onto the turntable and get yourself ready to be transported.  I do miss that.