The 500 - #134 - Ready To Die - The Notorious B.I.G.

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by New York-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.

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Album: #134
Album Title: Ready To Die
Artist: The Notorious B.I.G.
Genre: East Coast Hip Hop
Recorded: The Hit Factory and D&D Studios, New York, New York.
Released: September, 1994
My age at release: 29
How familiar was I with it before this week: One song
Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at position #22, rising 112 spots
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Big Poppa
Few things in hip hop engage me more than razor-sharp wordplay, intricate multi-syllabic rhymes, and storytelling that feels cinematic. Add in lyrics that carry political or social weight, and you’ve got my full attention.

If you’ve been following this series, you know I celebrated Eric B. & Rakim’s ability to rhyme across the bar line in my January, 2024, post on Paid in Full (#228 on The 500) and Eminem’s linguistic acrobatics in October, 2023, when I explored The Marshall Mathers LP (#244). I’ve also unpacked the groundbreaking social commentary in Public Enemy’s Fear of a Black Planet (#302); Illmatic (#402) from Nas or the raw bullhorn of protest found in N.W.A.’s Straight Outta Compton (#144). Meanwhile, I've also become a fan of clever sampling, especially the work of Erick Sermon and Parrish Smith on their first release, Strictly Business (#453).

Album covers for records mentioned above.

When it comes to pure smoothness, few can rival the late Christopher George Latore Wallace, better known as Biggie Smalls, The Notorious B.I.G., or simply Biggie. He delivers all of that and more. His verses aren’t just lyrics; they’re vivid narratives woven into rhythm, making Ready to Die a masterclass in clever, seemingly effortless rap. Biggie’s command of internal rhyme and multi-syllabic wordplay is matched by his breath control and rich vocal tone, allowing him to glide through complex lines with ease. Layer in his knack for striking imagery and streetwise slang, and the result is music that flows with smooth confidence.

Biggie’s work has only grown in stature over time. As noted earlier, Ready to Die jumped more than 100 spots in Rolling Stone Magazine's 2020 update of 2012’s The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time, landing in the Top 25. That said, not every track has aged gracefully. Some songs reveal the raw edges of Biggie’s youth...he was just 21 when he wrote them. The 14th track, Friend of Mine, leans heavily on crude humor and explicit sexual detail, tarnishing his lyrical brilliance. Respect, the album’s 13th cut, brims with sexual bravado, ego-driven bluster, and violent imagery, relying more on shock value than the sophistication Biggie displays elsewhere. And then there’s the awkwardly titled Me and My Bitch, intended as a love song but now jarring and undeniably misogynistic by today’s standards.

Biggie with his wife Faith Evans. It is unconfirmed if she
was the inspiration for his love song Me And My Bitch, but 
the timelines match-up. They married in August, 1994.

The Notorious B.I.G. released only two studio albums before his life was tragically cut short in a drive-by shooting in Los Angeles on March 8, 1997. Both records earned spots on Rolling Stone’s 2012 and 2020 editions of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. I’ll keep revisiting Biggie’s catalog, but I suspect my go-to will be the 2007 Greatest Hits compilation, released on the tenth anniversary of his death. It pulls together standout tracks from both studio albums, along with select posthumous material, that offer a powerful snapshot of his legacy in one collection while side-stepping some of his less mature tracks.

The 500 - #135 - Slanted and Enchanted - Pavement

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by New York-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.

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Album: #135
Album Title: Slanted and Enchanted
Artist: Pavement
Genre: Indie Rock, Noise Pop, LoFi
Recorded: Louder Than You Think Studio (Stockton, California); South Makepeace Studio (Brooklyn, New York)
Released: April, 1992
My age at release: 26
How familiar was I with it before this week: Not at all
Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at position #199, dropping 74 spots
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Conduit For Sale

In recent years, I’ve reshaped how I approach writing fluency in my Grades 6 and 7 classroom. Instead of assigning a major graded task every few weeks, I now focus on enhancing learning and confidence through regular entries in our Writer’s Notebooks. At the heart of the shift is the “Quick Write” strategy -- posted prominently in our class room (see below) -- which encourages students to get their ideas down without overthinking grammar or spelling. The approach is simple. I want them to write freely and often using topics that are generated from our class discussions or novel readings. I read each entry and offer one piece of targeted advice, helping them grow without overwhelming them with a page full of red ink editing suggestions. The goal is progress, not perfection. Later, they can choose their favourite piece and edit it thoroughly for grading.

This approach to writing came to mind as I researched the recording of Slanted and Enchanted, the debut record from California rockers Pavement. Created in a makeshift home studio on a shoestring budget, the band embraced a lo-fi aesthetic that favored raw energy over polish. The sessions were described as relaxed and spontaneous. Drummer Gary Young reportedly hit record on the tape machine and ran to his kit, capturing “takes” that were imperfect but authentic. The result was a landmark indie rock album, celebrated for its disheveled charm, jagged guitar riffs, and off-kilter melodies. Like a Quick Write, Slanted and Enchanted wasn’t about perfection, it was about capturing something real, unfiltered, and emotionally resonant. That spirit of creative freedom is exactly what I hope to foster in my students’ writing.

Pavement (circa 1992).

Until last year, Pavement had slipped under my radar. It wasn’t until May, 2024, when guest blogger T.J. Gillespie wrote about their fourth album Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain (#212 on The 500) that I gave a proper listen. The record’s offbeat charm and melodic grit pulled me in. So when I noticed their debut, Slanted And Enchanted, ranked higher than Crooked Rain on The 500 list, I was eager to learn more. 

I'll admit, Slanted And Enchanted was a tough listen at first. The album’s lo-fi production and a raw, unpolished sound, felt chaotic and the vocals seemed a little pitchy. Yet, as I sat with it, I began to appreciate its scrappy brilliance. It wasn’t trying to be perfect, it was trying to be honest. That same spirit is what I aim to cultivate in my classroom – a space where students can create freely, without fear of flaws, knowing that the real magic often lives in the rough edges.

A stack of Writer's Notebooks from my current class, 
ready to be picked up for their next Quick Write opportunity.

I’m thrilled with the growth I’m seeing in my young writers. This week, we’re diving into seven strategies for crafting irresistible introductions, a skill that will elevate their writing instantly. I can’t wait to read their next Quick Write and see how they experiment with these techniques before applying them to a reworked polished piece. Just as writing this weekly blog has sharpened my own skills, their progress shines through every opportunity I give them...even when the work is raw, unpolished, and a little chaotic. As we've learned from Pavement, that’s where the magic begins.

The 500 - #136 - Greatest Hits - Elton John

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by New York-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.

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Album: #136
Album Title: Greatest Hits
Artist: Elton John
Genre: Rock, Pop
Recorded: Several Studios
Released: November, 1974
My age at release: 9
How familiar was I with it before this week: Very
Is it on the 2020 list? No
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Don't Let The Son Go Down On Me

Last spring, I had the incredible opportunity to direct The Lion King Jr. with the talented students at Sir Arthur Currie Public School in London, Ontario. It was a true team effort, and I was fortunate to collaborate with a dedicated group of colleagues who brought the production to life. We had a musical director who led the choir and prepared the songs, two teachers who choreographed the dancers, and a tech lead who managed everything from headset microphones to stage lighting. Several staff members designed costumes and built set pieces, while others handled marketing and ticket sales.

Poster for Sir Arthur Currie’s production of The Lion King Jr.

Nearly 150 students auditioned for just 15 speaking roles (13 of which included singing), and the talent on display was nothing short of extraordinary. Faced with such an abundance of gifted performers, we made the bold decision to double-cast the show, allowing more students to shine on stage. It was a bit of a gamble -- splitting our rehearsal time between two casts made my directorial debut far more challenging than I had anticipated. But in the end, it was worth every moment. I walked away with a deep appreciation for the art of directing and the magic that happens when a school community comes together to create something memorable.

Sir Arthur Currie students performing The Circle Of Life at the conclusion of  The Lion King Jr.

For many of our students, The Lion King Jr. was their first real introduction to the music of Sir Elton John, who composed most of the songs for Disney’s 1994 animated classic, along with lyricist Tim Rice. During our spring rehearsals, John's melodies were absolutely everywhere. They echoed from the stage, floated through the hallways, and popped up in the most unexpected places -- hummed at desktops during work periods, whistled between classes, or softly sung in the yard at recess. E.J. knows how to write a tune that sticks with you, and our school was happily buzzing with his unforgettable music for weeks.

I was about the same age as some of our youngest cast members when I first heard the music of John. I can’t say for sure which song I heard first, but chances are it was the irresistibly catchy Crocodile Rock that pulled me in. That’s the magic of his music – he knows how to craft a hook that sticks. His 1974 Greatest Hits album was an early testament to his talent that expanded exponentially throughout his career.  He followed up with Greatest Hits Volume II  three years later, and his third volume a decade after that. John and his longtime lyricist, Bernie Taupin, were a hit-making machine. In fact, John has landed 29 songs in the Billboard Top 10 -- ranking him fourth among pre-streaming artists, behind only Michael Jackson, The Beatles and Madonna.

Bernie Taupin (left) and Elton John in 2019.

However, he topped those talented performers, by being elevated to the highly exclusive EGOT Club -- reserved for artists who have managed to snag an Emmy, a Grammy, an Oscar and a Tony award with their work. Only 21 individuals have achieved this honour. Of them, a mere three entertainers have been pop music performers  –  Elton John, John Legend and Jennifer Hudson.

The memory of The Lion King Jr. at Sir Arthur Currie will fade with each graduating class; however, I feel that Elton John’s legacy will persist. His 1983 hit, I’m Still Standing, a defiant anthem of resilience, made its way onto our classroom playlist this year, a mix of old and new music curated by both students and me. One student in particular, Saqeef, who played Older Simba in The Lion King Jr. (see below), has already set his sights on performing the song at the Spring, 2026, edition of Currie’s Got Talent,  accompanying himself on piano. It’s a fitting choice, and a testament to how John’s music continues to inspire new generations -- after seven decades and 50 years since I first started humming his tunes.

Saqeef (right) as Older Simba in a scene from Sir Arthur Currie's
production of The Lion King Jr.

The 500 - #137 - Tim - The Replacements

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by New York-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.

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Album: #137
Album Title: Tim
Artist: The Replacements
Genre: Alternative Rock, Punk Rock, Power Pop
Recorded: Nicolette Studios, Minneapolis, Minnesota
Released: September, 1985
My age at release: 20
How familiar was I with it before this week: Not at all
Is it on the 2020 list? No
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Bastards of Young (Ed Stasium Mix)

Long before I dropped the needle...or rather, queued up the stream... for my first listen to Tim, the fourth studio album by The Replacements, I recalled some advice that had been given to me a few years previously. This cautionary guidance had come during a discussion about a previous post concerning the debut record from The Replacements, Let It Be. Those sage words? Skip the original mix for Tim and dive straight into the 2023 remix by producer Ed Stasium. Reissued by Rhino records, the Stasium Remixes were part of a four CD package dubbed Tim: Let It Bleed Edition, containing alternate takes, demos and a 1986 live performance recorded at the Cabaret Metro Concert Hall in Chicago.

Tim: Let It Bleed Edition album cover (2023).

It was sound advice. Stasium isn’t just any studio hand, he’s a former punk guitarist turned sonic architect with an impressive résumé. From shaping the raw energy of the Ramones and the artful edge of Talking Heads to powering Living Colour’s Grammy-winning 1988 debut Vivid, Stasium has spent decades honing studio chaos into high fidelity clarity.

However, I had to wonder: What was wrong with the original record? And, if "I didn't listen to it first, how would I know the latter was better?" So, on Monday of last week, I intentionally arrived an hour early at my school classroom to give the 1985 version of Tim an uninterrupted listen while puttering about preparing for the week. I did the same on Tuesday, and by Wednesday the record was starting to grow on me. Sure, it was rough and unpolished, but that seemed to accentuate the themes on the record -- restlessness, youthful defiance, loneliness and fleeting love. Paul Westerberg, the band's guitarist, vocalist and songwriter, penned lyrics that are raw, plainspoken, self-deprecating and funny, capturing 20-something, working class disillusionment.

Westerberg's handwritten lyrics for
Here Comes A Regular, from Tim.

On Wednesday, I made the switch (from the 1985 original mix of Tim to Ed Stasium’s 2023 Let It Bleed Edition) and the difference hit like a jolt. Suddenly, the fog lifted. The original, produced by Tommy Erdelyi (aka Tommy Ramone of the Ramones), had long been criticized for its murky sound. The vocals felt buried under digital reverb, guitars smeared together, drums seemed to be pushed so far back they barely registered. Stasium’s remix flipped that script. Westerberg’s voice steps into the spotlight, guitars snarl with definition and the drums finally punch through with authority. For me, it wasn’t just an upgrade, it was a full-on sonic revelation.

Ed Stasium surrounded by some of the tools of his trade.

The change in sound immediately reminded me of another remix from my favourite band, Rush. In 2002, the Canadian trio released their 17th studio record, Vapour Trails. It was the first record released after a six-year hiatus for the band -- drummer Neil Peart suffered the loss of his daughter in an automobile accident and his wife to cancer ten months apart. For a time, it seemed the band might be done altogether. News of their return to a Toronto studio in 2001 brought eager anticipation from their loyal fan base, myself included.

When Vapor Trails dropped, it was hailed as Rush’s triumphant return to a guitar-driven, hard rock sound after two decades of synth-heavy experimentation. But sonically? It was a mess. The album fell victim to the so-called “loudness war,” a mastering trend of the 90's and early 00's that cranked everything to peak volume at the expense of clarity. The result was a dense, distorted wall of sound where instruments bled into each other and dynamics were crushed flat. Fans adored the songs, but many admitted the listening experience was exhausting, even unbearable in long doses.

In 2013, Canadian producer David Bottrill gave Vapor Trails the overhaul it desperately needed, and the result was transformative. Gone was the suffocating compression and in its place, space and clarity. Instruments finally had room to breathe. The guitars and bass regained their warmth and Peart’s drums sounded organic and thunderous instead of crushed into the background. The remix didn’t just fix technical flaws, it unlocked the emotional core of the record, turning what was once a sonic headache into a powerful, cathartic experience that matched the intensity of Rush’s songwriting. It added the emotional depth needed to the track Ghost Rider which was inspired by Peart's 14-month motorcycle journey across North America during his healing process after losing the two most important people in his world -- his wife and only child.

Ghost Rider: Travels On The Healing Road.
the 2002 memoir from Neil Peart.

I am glad I spent a couple days with the original recording of Tim. It gave me context for the vastly superior 2023 remix. However, much like the original recording of Vapour Trails, I won't be playing it again. Instead, I will always opt for their vastly improved remixed counterparts.

The 500 - #138 - The Chronic - Dr. Dre

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by New York-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.

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Album: #138
Album Title: The Chronic
Artist: Dr. Dre
Genre: West Coast Hip Hop, G-Funk, Gangsta Rap
Recorded: Death Row (Los Angeles, California)
Released: December, 1992
My age at release: 27
How familiar was I with it before this week: A couple songs
Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #37, moving up 101 spots
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Lil' Ghetto Boy

"Fo shizzle, my nizzle!"

There was a time when that phrase was the height of cool. In the early 2000s, the Grades 7 and 8 students I taught tossed it around like a linguistic VIP pass. Though they lived in a predominantly white, working-class neighbourhood their speech was steeped in the slang and swagger of West Coast hip hop. It was language that had traveled straight from a recording studio in California to our Canadian classrooms on cassette tapes, CD's and music videos. One student, especially fluent in the culture, even gave me a nickname. I wasn’t “Mr. Hodgkinson” to him. I was “Mitta H.” “Mitta,” of course, being his hip hop remix of “Mister.” Thinking back it still makes me laugh: his slightly pudgy, freckled face delivering lines with the confidence of a seasoned MC.

"Mitta H? Can I axe you sumthin' real quick?"

"Mitta H? I ain't gonna lie, I didn't do the homework, but lemme explain."

"Mitta H? I can't stay, I gotta bounce."

The phrase “Fo shizzle, my nizzle!”, made famous by rapper Snoop Doggy Dogg (born Calvin Broadus Jr.), gained widespread traction with his 2000 single Snoop Dogg (What’s My Name? Pt. 2) from the album Tha Last Meal. It was part of Snoop’s signature linguistic flair: a playful remix of English where he added the suffix or infix “-izzle” to everyday words, creating a kind of lyrical shorthand. In this code, a table became a tizzable, a chair a chizzair, and a house a hizzle. So naturally, “Fo shizzle, my nizzle” translated to “For sure, my friend” -- with “nizzle” standing in for the N word, which, in African American Vernacular English, is often used as a term of camaraderie and cultural solidarity.

Snoop Dogg in 2000.

I’ve long been fascinated by the etymology and evolution of slang, so diving into the origins and trajectory of “Fo shizzle” for this post was a delight. As it turns out, what sounded like a fresh catchphrase from my gregarious student in the early 2000s was, in fact, the product of a linguistic lineage stretching back over sixty years. While Snoop Dogg popularized the phrase in 2000, its roots predate him by several years. The “-izzle” infix first surfaced in rapper E-40’s 1996 track, Rapper’s Ball, where he dropped “fo’ sheezy” into the mix. But even E-40 was riffing on an earlier influence. He'd borrowed it from Frankie Smith’s 1981 funk hit Double Dutch Bus, which featured playful “-iz” speak as part of its lyrical style.

Cover for the single Double Dutch Bus, by Frankie Smith.

Smith, in turn, drew inspiration from the coded language of the 1970s African American street culture, specifically the cant used by pimps and hustlers to obscure their conversations from law enforcement, the same reason that East Londoners in the U.K. contrived Cockney slang in the 1900s. Similarly, the, slang “izzle” was a linguistic sleight of hand, much like Pig Latin, which can be traced back to the Harlem Renaissance (1918–1935), when young black girls are believed to have developed rhythmic, coded chants while jumping rope. What began as a form of playful secrecy evolved into a cultural cipher, one that would eventually echo through boom boxes, bounce off classroom walls, and land in the everyday speech of kids hundreds of kilometers away.

Girls jumping "Double Dutch" in Harlem, New York (circa 1940).

Before he was a household name, Snoop Doggy Dogg made his explosive debut on Dr. Dre’s 1992 landmark album The Chronic. With his laid-back flow and unmistakable drawl, Snoop appeared on multiple tracks, including the iconic Nuthin’ but a ‘G’ Thang, instantly becoming a standout voice in West Coast hip hop. His chemistry with Dre was undeniable and the buzz around this lanky Long Beach newcomer was electric.

Album cover for Ain't Nuthin' But A G Thang featuring Dr. Dre
and Snoop Dawg. 

The Chronic was the groundbreaking debut solo album from rapper, producer, and future mogul Dr. Dre (born Andre Young). Released in 1992, the album marked a bold new chapter for Dre, who had recently split from the pioneering West Coast group N.W.A. following a bitter financial dispute with their manager, Jerry Heller, and groupmate Eazy-E. Frustrated by what he saw as unfair contracts and mismanagement, Dre left the group and co-founded Death Row Records with former bodyguard-turned-entrepreneur Suge Knight.

Vibe Magazine cover (1996) featuring (clockwise l-r)
Snoop Dawg, Dr. Dre, Tupac Shakur and Suge Knight.

Determined to carve out his own legacy, Dre poured his energy into The Chronic, crafting a sound that would come to define an era. Drawing heavily from 1970s funk, especially the grooves of Parliament-Funkadelic (#177, #276 and #479 on The 500), he pioneered the G-funk style -- a laid-back, synth and bass-driven sound that stood in stark contrast to the aggressive, sample-heavy beats of East Coast hip hop. The Chronic became a cultural juggernaut, selling millions of copies and reshaping the sound of hip hop in the 1990s. Many consider it more than an album. Critics and fans have lauded it as a statement of independence, a reinvention of West Coast rap, and the beginning of a new dynasty.

Funk collective Parliament-Funkadelic.

Despite the six-decade journey it took for “Fo shizzle” to land in the vocabulary of my students, it took barely a year for the phrase to hit cultural saturation and promptly flame out. Like so many slang terms that bubble up from Black culture and cross into the mainstream, especially when adopted by white audiences, it lost its edge seemingly overnight. By 2005, when Michael Scott awkwardly dropped it on television’s The Office in a cringey attempt to bond with his younger, more diverse staff at the fictional Dunder Mifflin Paper Company, the phrase had gone from cutting-edge to a cartoonish punchline.

Steve Carell portraying "Prison Mike" in a classic episode of The Office.

By the early 2000s, even I was using it, but only with a heavy dose of irony, usually to mock my own attempts at being “down with the kids.” And yes, "they fo shizzle rolled dey eyes, son".