The 500 - #118 - Late Registration - Kanye West

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 #:118
Album Title: Late Registration
Artist: Kanye West
Genre: Hip Hop, Pop Rap, Progressive Rap
Recorded: Three Studios in Hollywood, One in New York

Released: August, 2005
My age at release: 40
How familiar was I with it before this week: A couple songs
Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #117, rising one spot
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Gold Digger

I love the way music transforms. How a melody can slip out of one era and reappear in another wearing a completely different outfit. How something sacred can become secular, and then become something else entirely. I think of it as sonic alchemy (although I suspect I'm not the first to use that term). For me, it defines the way one artist melts down an old sound and recasts it into something new. Eventually, a new creation exists that is unrecognizable from the original source material.

It reminds me of the way my classroom lessons evolve over the years, and how each new cohort of students finds inventive ways to remix the challenges I give them. I often call these “low floor, high ceiling” activities because the entry point is accessible to everyone, but the possibilities stretch as far as their imagination. One of my favourites, a simple rock‑blaster coding game, has been reimagined for more than a decade in ways that still surprise me.

Gold Digger, the second single released from Kanye West's sophomore studio release, Late Registration, is a fascinating tale of sonic alchemy that takes place over more than a century. It is also a musical odyssey that continues today and, I suspect, will keep going beyond my lifetime.

It all started in 1901 when American gospel songwriter William Lamartin Thompson penned the Christian hymnal Jesus Is All The World To Me. Thompson, born in East Liverpool, Ohio, in 1847, studied at the New England Conservatory of Music in his early twenties. After facing rejection from commercial publishers in New York, he founded The W. L. Thompson Music Company in 1875. It soon became a prominent gospel publishing house and allowed Thompson to retain the rights to his music -- a rarity at the time.

William Lamartin Thompson

Fast forward 50 years and the gospel quartet The Southern Tones borrowed the hymn's melodic structure and transformed it into the song It Must Be Jesus. The reworked piece became a modest hit, mainly on Southern gospel radio stations where, one afternoon in 1954, singer Ray Charles was listening to it.

It Must Be Jesus - by The Southern Tones.

Charles secularized the gospel groove, a decision that shocked some church communities at the time, and wrote the soul song I Got A Woman. Charles kept the melodic contour of the song, as well as its rhythmic bounce. He also made use of the "call and response" lyrics, a technique that he would return to with his biggest hit, What I'd Say, in 1959.

Album jacket for the single, I Got A Woman (1954).

Fast‑forward another 50 years and Kanye West is in the studio, zeroing in on a tiny slice of Ray Charles’s I Got a Woman, the moment where Charles belts out that unmistakable line, "She gives me money, when I'm in need". Kanye lifts that fragment, reshapes it, and drops it into the foundation of his beat, building a new melodic world on top of Ray’s groove before laying down his rap.

To strengthen the Ray Charles connection, West recruited actor, comedian and singer Jamie Foxx to sing the a capella (vocal) introduction to the song. Foxx had won the Academy Award a year before for his portrayal of Charles in the biopic Ray.

Movie poster for Ray, starring Jamie Foxx.

So, a Christian hymn from 1901 informed a gospel hit from 1954 which was reworked into a R&B hit for Ray Charles, which, 50 years later, was sampled in a platinum selling hip-hop classic. That sonic alchemy continues today. In 2025, American rapper Freddie Gibbs partnered with DJ/producer The Alchemist (real name Alan Maman) to release the song I Still Love H.E.R. which samples West's Gold Digger. The beat, indeed, goes on.

The 500 - 123 - Run DMC - Raising Hell

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 #: 123
Album Title: Raising Hell
Artist: Run DMC
Genre: Hip Hop, Rock Rap
Recorded: Chung King Studio, New York, New York

Released: May, 1986
My age at release: 19
How familiar was I with it before this week: Quite
Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #209, Dropping 86 places
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Walk This Way

Album cover for Run-DMC's, Raising Hell.

Raising Hell was the third record from American Hip-Hop pioneers Run-DMC. It became their second of two records to make The 500 chart. Their self-titled debut at #242, and I wrote about it in October, 2023. In that post, I shared some information about their history and my earliest exposure to the hip-hop genre.

Album cover for Run DMC's self-titled first release.

Although Run-DMC had been recording since 1983 and began releasing albums the following year, my friends and I remained unaware of the trio until they swamped our radars with their genre-bending re-make of Aerosmith’s 1975 hard‑rock song Walk This Way. To say Run-DMC’s version took over the summer and early fall of 1986 would be an understatement. It was unavoidable. The track blasted from car radios and battered cassette decks slung over the shoulders of high-schoolers and pre-teens. It seemed to air on Canada’s MuchMusic television station almost hourly, becoming indelibly stamped on my memory. To this day, when I hear it I am transported back to 1986 when the song  became a significant piece of my mental soundtrack.

Album jacket for the single, Walk This Way, by Run DMC

With time and maturity, I can emphatically declare I now prefer the Run‑DMC version over the original by Aerosmith, although as teenagers my friends and I weren’t nearly so generous. We mistakenly believed the hip‑hop trio from Queens was “stealing” the earlier riff we loved.

As self‑styled rockers growing up in the predominantly white city of London, Ontario, we were generationally and geographically removed from hip‑hop. We didn’t recognize it as a rising art form, nor did we understand the concept, or legality, of borrowing and interpolating riffs and samples from the works of others.

As we edged toward our twenties, I think we felt a bit threatened, even left behind, by this new sound. To us, the song seemed as though Run‑DMC was trying to cash in on a great piece of someone else’s achievement. We considered it wrong and unfair. However, I would later learn that the “borrowing” is permissible and compensated.

A screen capture from the Walk This Way video. In the shadowy
background is Jason, "Jam Master Jay" Mizell. At front, from left
to right are Joseph "Run" Simmons, Steven Tyler, Darryl "DMC"
McDaniels and Joe Perry on guitar.

Truth be told, the picture does not reveal the whole story about the recording. Two members of Aerosmith – singer Steven Tyler and guitarist Joe Perry – actually needed a Walk This Way collaboration far more than Run-DMC. It would serve to revitalize their careers. In 1986, Aerosmith was struggling. Badly. By the mid‑’80s, the group were starting to be seen as washed-up, "has-beens". They were battling declining sales, internal instability, and addiction issues. Their recent albums were underperforming, they had lost cultural relevance, and the band was no longer a major commercial force.

Aerosmith's 1985 release, Done With Mirrors, was a commercial
failure for the once reliable group.

Conversely, Run‑DMC were entering 1986 on the verge of a historic breakthrough. They were already hip-hop’s hottest group, and culturally ascendant. They had strong sales from their first two albums – the aforementioned debut and King of Rock from1985 - had made them a global hip-hop phenomeno. Their third album, Raising Hell, was already shaping up to be a major success. Run‑DMC did not need rescuing and, rumour has it, they nearly declined the opportunity to record the Aerosmith cover.

Members of Run DMC and Aerosmith in the studio, on
March 9, 1986, when Walk This Way was recorded.

I've been trying to figure out why I now like the Run-DMC version of Walk This Way better, and I think it comes down to the guitar playing of Perry and the incendiary solo that finishes the five-minute song. Comparing the guitar solo in Aerosmith’s 1975 Walk This Way to Perry’s re-recording for Run‑DMC’s 1986 crossover smash is a bit like comparing two eras of music history.

Joe Perry (1986)

The original Perry guitar solo on Walk This Way, found on Aerosmith’s Toys in the Attic (#229 on The 500) is longer, looser, and unmistakably rooted in the band’s  blues‑rock swagger. It has a raw, improvisational grit typical of their mid‑’70s peak. By contrast, Raising Hell producer Rick Rubin has said  the Run‑DMC version needed a tighter, more streamlined solo. It had to be "one that could live inside a hip-hop arrangement without derailing its rhythmic momentum."

Album cover for Aerosmith's Toys In The Attic record. (#229 on The 500).

And that intentional refinement wasn’t accidental. Rubin pushed Perry hard during the 1986 session. As Rubin recalled, Perry’s first attempt didn’t cut it. Rubin told him directly that he didn't think it was great. Punctuating the criticism by saying; "I feel like you could do better!’’ It was only after that blunt assessment that Perry delivered the final take, one that was shorter, sharper, and engineered to serve Rubin's radically new context.

Rick Rubin (1986).

From Perry’s perspective, the collaboration was far more than a re‑recording session. He later described the remake with Run-DMC as “a high point” for Aerosmith and “an artistic spark” during a period when their career had stalled. Perry’s solo wasn’t just a performance; it was part of a cultural moment that helped relaunch Aerosmith and blasted hip-hop into the mainstream. Well, not the mainstream of my teenage circle of friends. It would be some time before we came around to accept...and now love...the collaborated version between two future Hall of Fame groups.

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 - #156 - Paul's Boutique - Beastie Boys

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: #156
Album Title: Paul's Boutique

Artist: Beastie Boys

Genre: Hip Hop, Sampledelia

Recorded: 3 Studios in Los Angeles, U.S.A.

Released: July, 1989

My age at release: 24
How familiar was I with it before this week: Quite

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #125, rising 31 spots
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Shake Your Rump

In January, 1996, I was rumbling alone along a remote Northern Ontario highway in my weathered 1990 Chevrolet Cavalier. To the right, under the quiet gleam of the winter moon, rose the Canadian Shield -- a timeless sweep of granite and snow, like something lifted from a Group of Seven canvas. The earth’s ancient bones jutted through drifts of white, stoic and scarred.

Franklin Carmichael's Mirror Lake (1929).

To the left, glimpses of Lake Superior’s frozen shoreline appeared now and then between dark ranks of boreal pine, each sighting brief but breathtaking. I'd left London, Ontario, the day before and was heading back to Lakehead University in Thunder Bay after the Christmas break – 1,400 kilometers northwest, deeper into winter’s grasp.

A familiar route between my home in Southwestern Ontario to

 Lakehead University

My companion on the long drive wasn’t just the road -- it was the pile of cassette tapes scattered across the passenger seat. Among them were familiar favorites that had seen me through many a stretch of this 15-hour journey: Naveed, the debut from Toronto's Our Lady Peace; Superunknown by Soundgarden; Radiohead’s The Bends; Purple by Stone Temple Pilots; Pearl Jam's Ten; and the soundtrack to Kevin Smith’s slacker cult classic, Mallrats.

But there was one newcomer in the mix -- a cassette I’d borrowed from my Teachers College roommate, Randy. It was Paul’s Boutique by the Beastie Boys, and as I switched from cassette to cassette shortly after passing Wawa, Ontario, I had no idea just how weird, and stressful, the ride was about to get.

Some of my favourite listens from 1995.

As I mentioned in my March 2024 blog post about the Beastie Boys' debut album, Licensed to Ill (#219 on The 500), it took me some time to appreciate the group's clever approach to hip-hop. Initially, I dismissed them as brash, frat-boy rock with a misogynistic edge. But over time, I began to understand their humor and artistry, quietly becoming a fan -- though never to the point of buying their records.

That changed when Randy played Paul's Boutique in the college townhouse we shared with two other Teacher College students, Craig and Brendan. From the first listen, I knew something was different. The band had dramatically evolved their sound, and while I didn’t yet grasp the full extent of their creative journey, I recognized that this was something entirely new -- something that piqued my curiosity.

Beastie Boys (1989) (l-r) Michael "Mike D" Diamond,
Adam "MCA" Yauch, and Adam "Ad-Rock" Horovitz

In the three years since the release of License To Ill, the group had matured. They had moved from New York to Los Angeles, intent on making a record with more creative depth. Paul's Boutique embraced a more sophisticated, sample-heavy production style. They collaborated with production duo The Dust Brothers to create a layered, funk-driven sound. The result was a record that was built around more than 100 music samples, taken from jazz, rock, soul and disco. Their lyrics had evolved too. While Licensed to Ill leaned into juvenile humor and rowdy anthems, Paul’s Boutique showcased more intricate wordplay and storytelling.

The Dust Brothers (l-r) Michael "E.Z. Mike" Simpson
and John "King Gizmo" King in their studio (2005).

I can’t recall which cassette was playing as I piloted my Chevy Cavalier along an isolated stretch of the Trans-Canada Highway near Terrace Bay, Ontario. But I do remember the sudden, unmistakable sound of a flat tire, flapping against the snow-covered asphalt like a rubber death rattle. I pulled over, stepped out into the biting cold, and made my way to the rear. The driver’s side, back tire had blown. With numb fingers, I began emptying the trunk, shifting my belongings, destined for my campus townhouse, just to reach the car jack and spare tire buried underneath. I worked quickly, hoisting the car into position, pausing briefly to breathe warmth onto my frozen fingers.

There is only one thing worse than a flat tire. That’s two simultaneous flat tires, in the dead of night, stranded in winter on a remote Ontario highway. And that was my fate, with two flats on the rear axel of my car. In the 4 a.m. frigid blackness, it was a nightmare scenario. I had only one spare, and it had been a while since a vehicle had passed me. In a time before cell phones, I was stranded, truly alone.

A gray, 1990 Chevrolet Cavalier, similar to the one I owned in 1995.

I lowered the car onto its rims and climbed inside, wrapping myself in the comforting warmth of the cabin. A dozen minutes passed in graveyard silence as I watched snow sweep indifferently across the highway. Suddenly, headlights appeared in the rearview mirror. I stepped out, my hazard lights flashing, desperately hoping to catch the attention of this passing motorist.  A mini-van slowed and pulled onto the shoulder. The passenger window rolled down, and after a brief explanation, I found myself onboard with a family of four and their dog. The children slept soundly in the back while the husband and wife told me they were returning to Edmonton, Alberta, after spending Christmas in Toronto with relatives. A short time later, they dropped me at a Husky Service Station, where, thankfully, I was able to call the Canadian Automobile Association (CAA) to arrange for a tow-truck, my membership proving invaluable.

The Husky Service Station near Nipigon, Ontario.

Relistening to Paul’s Boutique in preparation for this blog tugged me back to that ill-fated, cross-province journey -- a trip I hadn’t mentally revisited in years. The details coalesced into a memory as vivid, as if it had just happened. Funny how music works. No matter how much time passes, the Beastie Boys’ second record remains forever linked to that highway event as if etched into the soundtrack of that frosty and wind-swept stretch of highway.

Looking back, it all feels far less nightmarish than it did in the moment -- less an ordeal and more an unexpected, youthful adventure. As they say, time plus tragedy usually equals a "funny" story, and with enough distance, even the worst frights become tales worth telling.

Addendum
In the summer of 2018, while visiting New York City with my wife, we found ourselves near the corner of Rivington and Ludlow streets, the original location used for the Paul’s Boutique album cover. It was actually a fictional store. The band had hung a sign over an existing clothing shop called Lee’s Sportswear. Excited, I snapped the photo below. It wasn’t until later that I realized I had photographed the wrong corner – the actual location is partially visible to the right, across the street. Doh!