The 500 - #145 - Straight Outta Compton - N.W.A.

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: #145
Album Title: Straight Outta Compton

Artist: N.W.A.

Genre: West Coast Rap, Gangsta Rap

Recorded: Audio Achievements Studios, Torrance, California

Released: January, 1989

My age at release: 23
How familiar was I with it before this week: A couple songs

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at 70, rising 75 places
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Straight Outta Compton

In his 1890 novel, The Picture of Dorian Gray, satirist Oscar Wilde famously wrote:

“There is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about.” 

With this quip, Wilde critiqued the vanity and superficiality of Victorian high society. He challenged the era’s rigid emphasis on morality and reputation, suggesting that notoriety, even though scandalous, was preferable to being ignored. By mocking the obsession with public image, Wilde exposed the hypocrisy of a culture that valued appearances over authenticity, and celebrity over character.

The quote resonates with me as a middle school educator. There are times when a student feels excluded by their peers. Heartbroken, they confide that former friends are “talking behind their back” or “spreading rumours.” In these moments, I turn to Wilde’s words to offer comfort and perspective. I explain that being talked about, while painful, can also be a sign of significance…that they matter enough to be noticed.

To deepen the message, I share a lyric from The Go-Go’s song Our Lips Are Sealed, which wisely reminds us:

“There’s a weapon we can use in our defense — silence.”

Together, Wilde’s wit and the Go-Go’s wisdom can help students reclaim a sense of agency, reminding them that their value isn’t defined by gossip, and that silence can be a powerful response.

Our Lips Are Sealed from the debut album 
Beauty and the Beat from The Go-Go's
#414

In 1989, the hip hop group N.W.A., hailing from the Compton neighborhood of Los Angeles, California, burst onto the North American music scene with their debut studio album Straight Outta Compton. In many ways, their unapologetic presence echoed Oscar Wilde’s philosophy that being talked about, even scandalously, is better than being ignored. N.W.A. didn’t just make music, they made noise, challenging societal norms and demanding attention.

Originally a six-member collective, the group featured four rappers: Eazy-E (Eric Wright), Ice Cube (O’Shea Jackson), MC Ren (Lorenzo Patterson), and  Arabian Prince (Kim Nazel) -- who left before the album was released. Supporting them were two innovative DJs, Dr. Dre (Andre Young) and DJ Yella (Antoine Carraby), who crafted the group’s sound using drum machines, turntables, and early sampling technology to drive the rhythm and melody. Together, they redefined the boundaries of hip hop and forced mainstream audiences to confront the realities of life in South Central L.A.

The original five members of N.W.A. (Arabian Prince left
the group before the release of Straight Outta Compton)

I was in my mid-twenties when the controversies surrounding N.W.A. reached my corner of the world, Southwestern Ontario. At the time, I was managing a restaurant in North Toronto, near the Downsview area. The location sat among two vibrant cultural hubs and a college campus, creating a unique social dynamic. To the west were York University and the Jane and Finch intersection, a densely populated, low-income area renowned for its extraordinary cultural diversity, with over 100 nationalities and a multitude of languages spoken. To the east lay North York and Thornhill, the heart of Toronto’s Jewish community, characterized by high-rise apartments and a growing number of Jewish-owned businesses, including kosher markets, wig shops, and clothing stores.

North Toronto area where I worked (see pin). Jane & Finch
neighbourhood to the west, Jewish neighbourhood to the east.

This geographic intersection was reflected in the restaurant’s staff. Roughly a third came from the Jane and Finch area, primarily working in the back of house. Another third hailed from the Jewish community, working as servers and hosts. The remaining staff were university students and second-generation Chinese immigrants. For me, a young man raised in predominantly WASPy environments, it was an eye-opening and enriching experience, one that broadened my understanding of cultural identity, community, and the power of music to spark conversation across boundaries.

At night, during closing duties, the kitchen staff often played hip hop music on a cassette deck, including Straight Outta Compton. At the time, I didn’t grasp its innovative brilliance or cultural significance. Like many in the WASPy white majority, I dismissed it as simplistic, aggressive, and laced with misogyny, homophobia, and even racism. I suspect I saw it as a threat to the music of my generation. Ironically, most members of N.W.A. were my age. However, their cultural experiences were vastly different.

The group’s confrontational tone and unapologetic language were jarring, especially to someone like me, unfamiliar with the realities of systemic racism and urban poverty. The track F**k Tha Police felt unnecessarily caustic, and I struggled to understand its purpose. Looking back, I realize it wasn’t just provocation, it was protest, a raw and urgent expression of lived experience that I simply wasn’t equipped to interpret at the time.

I wasn’t the only one who misinterpreted Straight Outta Compton. Tipper Gore, wife of future Vice President Al Gore, led a high-profile campaign against explicit music in the 1980s through the Parents Music Resource Center (PMRC). Her activism began in 1984 after buying Prince’s Purple Rain for her 11-year-old daughter and being shocked by the lyrics in Darling Nikki, which referenced masturbation. Disturbed by the lack of warning labels, she rallied support from other Washington insiders to form the PMRC.

Prince - Purple Rain (#76 on The 500)

The group compiled the infamous “Filthy Fifteen”-- a list of songs they deemed offensive and featuring artists such as Prince, Madonna, Cyndi Lauper, AC/DC, and Def Leppard. Their efforts culminated in a Senate hearing in September, 1985, where musicians, including Frank Zappa, John Denver, and Twisted Sister’s Dee Snider, testified against what they saw as censorship and a threat to artistic freedom.

Zappa, Snider and Denver testify in front of Tipper Gore
and a Senate Hearing on artistic freedom.

Ultimately, the PMRC’s campaign led to the creation of the now-iconic “Parental Advisory: Explicit Lyrics” sticker, which began appearing on albums in 1990. Straight Outta Compton was among the first records to retroactively bear the label, a symbol of both controversy and cultural impact.

However, in Wilde’s immortal words: – “The only thing worse than being talked about, is not being talked about" -- the controversy around N.W.A. only served to amplify their reach, especially to white, suburban youth, who pushed Straight Outta Compton to triple platinum status (three million records sold) the following year.

By the time I left that Toronto job and returned to London, Ontario, to continue my university studies, N.W.A. had become a cultural phenomenon. The generation just behind me was ravenous for the group’s sound and raw social commentary. They recognized something that took me longer to understand: N.W.A.’s music wasn’t just entertainment, it was journalism, reporting on the harsh realities of life in South Central L.A. Their refusal to sanitize their message for white audiences or advertisers was a radical act of defiance. As Ice Cube said in 1989:

“Our music's not shocking to people who know that world. It's reality. It's shocking to outsiders. Sometimes the truth hurts.”

Looking back, I realize that Straight Outta Compton didn’t just challenge the music industry…it challenged listeners like me to confront truths we hadn’t been exposed to. And that, perhaps, is the real power of art -- to disrupt, to provoke and to be talked about. After all, when it comes to issues of social equity, the only thing worse than being talked about…