### *1999* by Prince (1982) While it is completely subjective what qualifies as a "masterpiece," the only certain quality is that they are rare. Further, most people never produce one, despite their efforts and goals. Of the few who produce one, it is often the career crowning achievement -- take, for example, the laurels placed on Elton John's great *Goodbye Yellow Brick Road*, which is often cited as the peak of his songwriting partnership with Bernie Taupin. Of the few artists who summit the mountain twice, we think of them as kingpins in their time: Frank Ocean's *Blonde* and *Channel Orange* come to mind. But what do we make of an artist who produces three such master works? How do you choose a favorite? For me, the first of the Prince masterpieces is my favorite, and here is why: of the three great Prince albums (joined by *Sign o the Times* and *Purple Rain*, though some also include the too-short-for-my-taste *Dirty Mind*), it is *1999* that most compels the body to move. The thesis is right there in the title track and lead single. "I only want you to have some fun," the all-knowing narrator of the album says before the music begins, and once it begins, it grooves across four sides of wax. Sitting just on the funk side of disco (and probably the last great "disco" album, if one considers it such), *1999* is a monument to moving your body, and it is side 2 of this sprawling four-sided album that best represents this commitment to groove, where the combined "Let's Pretend We're Married" and "D.M.S.R." offer over 15 minutes of uninterrupted shaking. Never again in his zenith would Prince produce music that seemed ingrained in jam-sessions, which is, to me, Prince at his best. Not that *1999* lacks for radio-friendly singles and shorter tracks: Side 1 contains three singles that become Prince canon on the airwaves in "1999," "Little Red Corvette" (the single that made the success of *Purple Rain* possible), and "Delirious." Further in the track-list, songs such as "Something in the Water (Does Not Compute)" and "Lady Cab Driver" contain the same spirit of *1999*'s dance obsession but seasoned with the rock-sensibilities that would further materialize in masterpiece two, *Purple Rain*, while "Automatic" and "All The Critics Love U in New York" are the seeds of polish, range, and auteurism that decorate masterpiece number three, *Sign o the Times*. But for there to be a second and third masterpiece, there must be a first, and so it is with *1999*. **Representative Tracks**: D.M.S.R., Little Red Corvette, Something in the Water, 1999 ### *Off The Wall* by Michael Jackson (1979) I've not listened to *every* disco album, of course. Someone probably has. I've listened to all of the important ones, though, and know every guitar bellow to "Le Freak" by Chic in my marrow, every Donna Summer's "uh huh" laced into my cells. It only makes sense to me, then, that the perfect dance and party music genre, disco, produced by the perfect arranger of the sound, Quincy Jones, performed by the most charismatic stage presence ever, a star whose talent as a mere elementary school child shined brighter than most master's ever can, Michael Jackson, represents something close to the best of all American music. *Off The Wall* is that album. Don't believe me? I've hypothesized something like the "delayed certification" effect in popular music, a trend where it is often the artistic breakthrough *before* the big-selling album is the one that captures the artist at their best. For an album like *Thriller* to be the greatest selling album of all time, and will comfortably remain so until the end of such a statistic's usefulness or meaning, then its predecessor must really be great -- and indeed, I think as an album for music, rather than a production for production, then *Off The Wall* exceeds *Thriller*. This album received one award so that its sequel could have one of the most iconic evenings at the Grammy's ever. Put all of the following songs on one album: "Don't Stop 'til You Get Enough," "Rock With You," "Workin' Day and Night," and "Get on the Floor." That's the entire track-list for the first side, the first side only. What is for some people a career greatest-hits attendance list is only the first side of *Off The Wall*. Side two begins with the title track and ends with "Burn This Disco Out," two genre classics, and somewhere between are songs written by Paul McCartney and Stevie Wonder. I don't think of Michael Jackson as an instrumentalist, singer, writer, producer, or arranger on the level of some of his contemporaries: Wonder, Prince, Springsteen, Madonna, his sister Janet, or Kate Bush. But the truth is the truth, his best is something like *the* best, and his best, one of my favorite albums ever, is *Off The Wall*. **Representative Tracks:** Off The Wall, Rock With You, Workin' Day and Night ### *Ready to Die* by Notorious B.I.G. (1994) No genre of music lends itself to debate about "greatest of all time" quite like hip-hop. Perhaps this is because of how closely hip-hop is tied to professional sports, the well-spring of superlative, and perhaps this is amplified by the well-meaning white man's proclivity for attaching his opinion to things that do not benefit him -- the labor of (mostly) black bodies in professional sports, the articulation of (mostly) black class struggle in hip-hop. Rest assured, however, in the arms of any objective moderator the debate about greatest rapper, greatest rap album, greatest debut album, or other appointments within hip-hop's memorialization will wind their way back to *Ready to Die*, and they should. No other rapper contains such a knack for saying something in a captivatingly funny way without deifying themself in self-reference. No other rapper commands the narrative of any story they tell like an albatross commanding an updraft: it seems so effortless to sail for days on a single wingbeat. Look no further than my favorite track for an unparalleled example of both of these traits, "Everyday Struggle". It is impossible to properly elevate *Ready to Die* to its place in the hearts of many without proper adage to "Juicy," perhaps the most instantly recognizable rap song of its era, or without "Big Poppa," a self-mythology that combined with "Juicy" to launch Biggie into superstardom. However, less written are the Shakespearean multi-role shapeshifting of "Gimme The Loot," where Biggie raps both to-and-against himself, and the boombox-bursting "Machine Gun Funk," both of which contain a theatre-flair that no rapper, before or since, can match. **Representative Tracks**: Everyday Struggle, Gimme The Loot, Juicy ### *Hotter Than July* by Stevie Wonder (1980) The curse of being a master is that you can never ascend to a new level, you can only continue being a master. Having already conquered the musical world in 1976's *Songs in the Key of Life*, Stevie Wonder could only do what is left for a master to do: have fun. So he did a movie soundtrack, the calming *Secret Life of Plants*, and when he turned his attention to popular music again, the playful *Hotter Than July* was born. No single track represents the narrative, expertise, and full-circle'd nature of *Hotter Than July* better than "All I Do." Originally written by a teenage Stevie Wonder, "All I Do" was absorbed by the Motown monolith and redistributed in their hit-making machine. The first cover, Tammy Terrell's copy, is a soothing version. The second, by The Jackson 5, has a school-age heart-rending to it that befits the group's aesthetic. But by the time Wonder reclaims it, "All I Do" returns as an adult contemporary hit set to a funky bassline. It's the music equivalent of playing a video game on New Game +, where your level and equipment carry over to the new save and you have fun acing the sidequests you'd already forgotten about from the last playthrough. *Hotter than July* also houses the last glimpses we'd receive of Wonder at his apex, with starry-eyed ballad "Lately," which would have been at home on *Innervisions*, "I Ain't Gonna Stand For It," the Gap Band-backed track which would have led the country charts if it were released an era or two later, and the seminal Wonder reggae classic "Master Blaster," which would make just as much sense on *Talking Book* or *Fulfillingness's First Finale*. It is true that the greatest, most-impactful five-album run in contemporary American pop begins with *Music of my Mind* and ends with *Songs in the Key of Life*, and it is a testament to Wonder's infinite creative command that his sixth "best" album of a decade-long stretch can be someone's personal favorite Stevie album. **Representative Tracks**: All I Do, Cash in Your Face, I Ain't Gonna Stand For It