That's how it starts

15. Ludacris - Area Codes

I'm turning over analysis of No. 15 to the internet genius that created the map above.

"“I’m a female and a feminist. I dislike the usage of the word ‘ho’. However, as a geography major, I find this song hilarious, and had to map it,” says Stefanie Gray. “In this song, Ludacris brags about the area codes where he knows women, whom he refers to as ‘hoes’,” says Ms Gray, who plotted out all the area codes mentioned in this song on a map of the United States. She arrived at some interesting conclusions as to the locations of this rapper’s preferred female companionship:

* “Ludacris heavily favors the East Coast to the West, save for Seattle, San Francisco, Sacramento, and Las Vegas.”
* “Ludacris travels frequently along the Boswash corridor.”
* “There is a ‘ho belt‘ phenomenon nearly synonymous with the ‘Bible Belt’.”
* “Ludacris has hoes in the entire state of Maryland.”
* “Ludacris has a disproportionate ho-zone in rural Nebraska. He might favor white women as much as he does black women, or perhaps, girls who farm.”
* “Ludacris’s ideal ‘ho-highway’ would be I-95.”
* “Ludacris has hoes in the Midway and Wake Islands. Only scientists are allowed to inhabit the Midway Islands, and only military personnel may inhabit the Wake Islands. Draw your own conclusion.”

Anything else I need to say? The rapping is ferocious, the puns are abominable, and Nate Dogg's multi-syllabic singing of the word "hoes" nears divinity. I'm pretty sure this is the song I've sung to myself most frequently this decade.

14. Devin the Dude - Doobie Ashtray

Devin the Dude's specialty is songs about weed, pussy, and partying, distinguished by the knowledge that all parties do eventually end. "Doobie Ashtray" is the true prescient song of the recession, an acute analysis of rappers' spending habits ("You just went and copped the biggest car you could find /And a couple more just like it so your friends could follow behind"), and how they inevitably end with no gas, no girl, and a "yacht that won't sail or float". Most humiliatingly of all, he can't use the herb to forget about his problems, because someone took the roaches out of his ashtray. Over a gorgeous melancholy beat that might just be the last great one DJ Premier ever made, Devin makes the low points sound simultaneously like life's highest.



13. Neko Case - Thrice All American

As great as erstwhile Vancouverite and onetime Shindig! winner Neko Case's songwriting is, I like her covers even more. Hearing her turn overlooked classics by Bob Dylan, Tom Waits, or Cub into her own masterpieces make me wish she would record a version of the Great American Songbook, only with the great American (and Canadian) songs that never get covered. But my favorite Neko song is "Thrice All American," a people's history of the economically depressed mid-sized American city of Tacoma, where "the factories churn and the timber's all cut down." It's like watching Season 2 of the Wire in three minutes. The song ends with a goosebumps-inducing prayer for Tacoma to never be discovered.



12. LCD Soundsystem - All My Friends

Yup, it's that song that makes all the old ravers depressed (which considering our general lack of serotonin, is not a particularly difficult task). It's the inner monologue of that guy at the club who is just a little too old to be there, surrounded by kids who "look impossibly tan," and hates himself for it. James Murphy finally gets sincere, cataloguing the pros and cons of a lifetime spent on dusty dancefloors. It's like "My Way" with the capacity for self-examination. While the best song New Order never wrote keeps building and building and building, Murphy keeps thinking about all those people that aging turns into missing friends. Maybe you should call one of yours today.

11. Jay-Z - Izzo (H.O.V.A.)


There's been a million and one rap songs about celebrating personal success, but what separates Izzo from all the "went from negative to positive" songs out there is that it's about celebrating the exact moment when hip-hop achieved global domination. The ebullient Jackson 5 sample underlines the point: you no longer needed to make pop music to be the King of Pop. Jay walks the listener through Industry Rule #4080, crying vengeance in the name of record label victims The Cold Crush Brothers, and by doing so somehow makes us root for yet another rapper made good. It was that one shining moment when hip-hop seemed untouchable ("somehow, I beat those charges like Rocky"), universal ("that's the anthem, get yer damn hands up!"), and full of endless possibility, the moment when the world's biggest rappers were also its wittiest. What happened?