You Know How We Do It (Feat Marky Mark) Genre
Feat. Don't Fail Me Now
The rise of the featured rapper in pop music.
Illustration by Mark Alan Stamaty.
Twenty-five years ago, in belatedly July 1990, the Billboard Hot 100 welcomed a No. 1 single that, while very mediocre, would turn out to exist quietly historic: the offset of a new brood of chart-topper.
The song was "She Ain't Worth Information technology," a one-off pairing between Hawaiian pop crooner Glenn Medeiros and—dropping in more than than halfway through with a rap span—New Jack Swing megastar Bobby Brown. Forgettable every bit it was, "Ain't" holds ii distinctions: It'due south the kickoff chart-topping sing-and-rap two-artist pairing in Billboard history, and information technology's also—with a couple of asterisks**—the formal debut of the discussion "featuring" on a No. 1 hit.
It is hard to overstate how pop that give-and-take has become on the charts over the last quarter-century. On the Hot 100 for the calendar week ending July 25, 2015, the give-and-take "featuring" appears no fewer than 29 times. Forth with a couple of instances of "with," & an ampersand or two between acts who do non normally team upward and are not formally duetting, fully 1-third of the nautical chart consists of one-off collaborations.
The vocal that started all this was neither uncommonly artistic nor unprecedented. Prior to "She Ain't Worth It," a handful of sing-and-rap pairings fell curt of Billboard's No. 1 spot. But Medeiros' striking went the distance considering it had genre crossover baked into it—its very awkwardness made it an effective hybrid.
According to Fred Bronson's Billboard Book of No. 1 Hits, the pairing was suggested after Medeiros had already completed a recording of the song, an up-tempo follow-upwards to his 1987 top-20 ballad "Nothing's Gonna Change My Love for You lot." Simply so Rick James, a friend of the caput of Medeiros' characterization, suggested that the genteel young singer effort working with Brown, arguably the top artist in pop at the fourth dimension; Brown'due south Don't Be Cruel was the peak-selling anthology of 1989, and on his nearly recent hitting, the No. 2 summer '89 smash "On Our Own" from the soundtrack to Ghostbusters 2, Bobby had even rapped. In the studio with Medeiros, on the spot, Brownish wrote a quick eight-bar span. (What, y'all don't recollect its classic lyric? "The daughter is jazzy, but she's nada just Trouble.") With a snatch of Bobby's rap at the start of the record and all of 20 seconds in the center, "She Ain't Worth It"—Glenn's bid for popular-pinup stardom—was complete.
When "Own't" reached No. 1 in the summer of 1990, information technology mostly affirmed that Chocolate-brown was at the apex of his regal period, able to turn fifty-fifty this twaddle into golden. (Medeiros never returned to Billboard's Top xx. He is now the caput of a prestigious private school in his native Hawaii.) But it also affirmed the commercial potency of both the featured-artist credit and its creative sibling, the rap bridge, as the vector of pop crossover. If xx seconds of Bobby—not fifty-fifty an bodily rapper—dropping eight bars could assistance non-threatening male child Medeiros pinnacle the charts, the warbler-and-rhymer possibilities were endless. Arguably, this is equally important a record to the hybridization of pop and rap as the storied "Walk This Mode" by Run-DMC and Aerosmith.
Heed you, it'south not like artist pairings on striking singles didn't exist before 1990, or even earlier hip-hop. If you become nigh a quarter-century in the other direction from "She Ain't Worth Information technology," to the charts of the 1960s, you will observe plenty of collaborative hits on the Hot 100. The Crystals' 1963 No. one "He's a Rebel" features lead vocals from another Phil Spector protégée, Darlene Love. The Temptations' 1965 No. ane "My Daughter" was non only written by ascent Motown star Smokey Robinson, its backing rail was recorded past him, likewise. (Indeed, the entire Motown hitmaking system was built by Drupe Gordy around collaboration.) Bob Dylan's 1965 classic "Similar a Rolling Stone," a No. 2 hit, showcases guitar by Mike Bloomfield, axeman from the Paul Butterfield Dejection Ring. Elvis Presley'south 1969 "comeback" chart-topper "Suspicious Minds" features very audible vocals by country's Ronnie Milsap and Musculus Shoals vocalist Jeanie Greene.
The difference betwixt and then and now is none of these celebrated '60s musicians were listed as featured artists on these singles—Robinson earned but songwriters' credit; Bloomfield, Milsap, and Greene were liner-notes fine print; Honey wasn't credited at all. In stone'south early years, even when pop acts relied on an army of collaborators, the music industry perpetuated the myth of the single, cocky-independent "artist" as the face of each hit.
And then what happened between the dawn of stone 'due north' roll and the turn of the 21st century that expanded—some might say bloated—songs' in a higher place-the-line credits? As a mongrel grade from birth, rock 'n' whorl has always been about mashing upwardly genres and formats which are rooted in notions of gender, race, and culture. But it took the ascent of hip-hop, a more than clearly hybridized art course—where the squad-up of rappers, DJs, and backing tracks is text, non subtext—to put the featured performer at center stage. Perhaps it's a drag for Billboard magazine's chart-layout department, merely the mod arroyo to creative person credit is probably the way it should have been all along.
The trouble of how to credit creative person collaborators goes all the way back to the dawn of charts. You can see it on Billboard's very first recorded-music survey, which coincidentally is celebrating an anniversary this week—75 years ago, the week of July 27, 1940, the mag began publishing a "National Listing of All-time Selling Retail Records." And that very first Summit 10 list—1 of many forerunner charts to the Hot 100—was topped by a collaboration of sorts whose lead vocalist went uncredited. Perhaps you've heard of this crooner: 1 Frank Sinatra, who sang lead on "I'll Never Smiling Again," a single by big-band leader Tommy Dorsey. Actually, Young Blueish Optics did receive his propers on the label of the 78-RPM tape, which read "Tommy Dorsey and his Orchestra" and, in very small-scale print at the bottom, "Vocal refrain by Frank Sinatra and The Pied Pipers." Only the entry on Billboard'south very first pop chart simply read "Tommy Dorsey." Sinatra was surely the reason millions were buying that shellac platter, but to the industry Dorsey was the nominal performer—bandleaders were to the pre-stone era what star DJs are to today. If Dorsey was the Calvin Harris of his time, Sinatra was his Rihanna.
Teen-beloved stars similar Sinatra would do better in the stone era, when bandleaders generally took a backseat to pop idols. But song credits didn't go any less opaque over the next couple of decades. From 1958, when Billboard premiered the Hot 100, through well-nigh of the 1960s, no nautical chart-topping vocal listed a featured performer. Even the word "and" was reserved for permanent duos, established vocaliser-and-the-blanks combos or, occasionally, a nose-to-olfactory organ vocal duet between performers of equal stature.
There was just one exception in the '60s, a sort of proto–featured credit, on a No. 1 hitting, and it involved the deed that was the exception to a lot of rules: the Beatles. Their 1969 single "Become Back"—the 17th of the Fab Four's tape xx No. 1s on the Hot 100—sports the credit "The Beatles with Billy Preston." This was, to say the least, a notable achievement for the then–barely known Preston, who was nonetheless a couple of years away from launching his ain career as a frontman. Notably, Preston doesn't sing on "Get Dorsum," only he performs the irresistible keyboard solo that bridges the vocal'due south first and second verses. What inspired the Beatles to give Preston a formal credit, since prior guest performers like Eric Clapton or David Stonemason had gone unmentioned, remains a mystery—it was probable because the Beatles were friends of Preston'due south dating back to the live-revue circuit of the early '60s, and stories have long circulated that the group briefly considered calculation him as a member. Only from a music-business perspective, what fabricated the "Get Back" credit prophetic and apt was that information technology involved a black R&B performer supporting a white stone group—the very model of genre crossover that would take over the industry in the age of hip-hop.
Still, fifty-fifty later on Preston's turn in the spotlight, featured credits remained deficient through the 1970s—heed-boggling, considering some of the squad-ups hitting the charts at the fourth dimension. Carly Simon'due south 1972–73 No. one hit "You're Then Vain" features backing vocals past none other than Mick Jagger—and still the label of Simon's single makes not a mention of Jagger. (As with many men, the song wasn't really about him.) Another rock eminence, John Lennon, sang backup on No. 1 hits past two of his buddies: Elton John'southward foreign 1974–75 cover of Lennon's Beatles song "Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds" (that's Lennon singing and playing guitar on the vocal's reggae break); and David Bowie'southward 1975 popular-and-B crossover rails "Fame." (That'due south Lennon punctuating Bowie with a squeaky "Fame!" in a high-pitched vox.) Does the one-time Beatle announced on the label of either 45? Nope and nope. For his function, Elton John sang fill-in on his friend Neil Sedaka's 1975 No. i "Bad Blood" (no relation to the recent Taylor Swift song), and he, too, kept his name off the characterization.
If any form of '70s music should take sported prominent featured credits, it's disco, a producer-driven medium that showcased blackness and female vocalists for crossover consumption. And yet, the industry's emphasis on lonely-wolf performers held business firm on the charts. In 1978, Australian popular singer Samantha Sang reached No. 3 in the U.S. with the midtempo disco carol "Emotion," a song that for all the world sounds like a Bee Gees song. That's because Barry Gibb wrote it and sings in his patented falsetto on the chorus. Simply on this hit, equally on the many hits Barry produced and performed on for his brother Andy, the disguised disco Jesus disappeared into the fine impress.
By the '80s, hip-hop finally emerged as a recorded medium, led by the Sugarhill Gang's "Rapper's Please" (a song that probably should have included a prominent "featuring Chic" credit). Early, rap made some utilise of the featured credit: Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five's 1982 single "The Bulletin" name-checked both rapper Melle Mel and producer Duke Bootee on the label. And on their 1981 single "The Showdown," the Sugarhill Gang fabricated the artist credit part of the show: the song is officially by "The Furious Five Meets Sugarhill Gang." Notwithstanding, for well-nigh of rap's kickoff decade, most featured acts remained buried. Despite their prominence in the video, Aerosmith are non actually credited on Run-DMC's No. iv 1986 hit "Walk This Way"; and on De La Soul's 1988 R&B No. 1 "Me, Myself & I," neither star producer Prince Paul nor special invitee Q-Tip from A Tribe Called Quest (who is really name-checked in the lyrics!) appears on the label. Heck, non even Vincent Price warranted a commendation for his rap on Michael Jackson'southward 1984 single "Thriller."
Eventually, though, featured rappers became too prominent to ignore. Arguably, two hits set the template for commercial rap-and-pop crossover before "She Ain't Worth It" came along. Chaka Khan'due south No. 3 1984 smash "I Feel for You" (No. 1 R&B), was a pileup of guests, effectively a four-minute soul-rap revue. Khan's proper name is rapped in a sampled loop at the record's beginning by frequent Flash collaborator Melle Mel, even before the melody begins; that melody is kicked off by no less than Stevie Wonder on harmonica, and the span includes more rapping from Mel plus samples of Wonder's 1963 No. one hitting "Fingertips." (As if all that wasn't enough, the vocal was written past Prince.) As per 1984 standards, none of these artists is name-checked in the vocal'southward credits. Were it to be issued today, "I Feel for Y'all" would probable read "Chaka Khan featuring Stevie Wonder and Melle Mel." (Even Prince might merit a topline credit.)* But regardless of the fine print, "I Experience for You" ready an '80s standard for showcasing featured performers and got the general public comfy with hip-hop hybridity. The other standard-setter for pop-rap crossover actually did include a featured credit: the 1989 Elevation x hit "Friends," by Jody Watley with Eric B. and Rakim. This solid piece of danceable R&B by the former Shalamar vocalist was made immortal by ii long rap stretches by Rakim, widely regarded as the late '80s king of menstruum. Even more than on "I Experience for You," the way the rap segments are showcased on "Friends"—Watley producer André Cymone practically clears space in the mix for Rakim to spit and Eric B. to scratch—set a template and presaged what countless '90s and '00s hip-pop joints would sound like.
Featured credits didn't exactly become commonplace after "She Ain't Worth It," but as rap was finally embraced at the heart of pop, such credits became less remarkable. Moralist apparition and 2 Alive Coiffure leader Luther Campbell scored a Top twenty striking, the Springsteen-sampling "Banned in the U.South.A.," under the nom de rap Luke featuring the two Live Crew. Neo-folkie Suzanne Vega was remixed by a British DJ duo calling themselves DNA and had a pop-business firm hit with "Tom's Diner," credited to Deoxyribonucleic acid featuring Suzanne Vega. Before 1990 was over, the hip-business firm jam "Gonna Make Yous Sweat (Everybody Trip the light fantastic At present)" by C&C Music Factory featuring Freedom Williams hit the Hot 100, eventually reaching No. ane in February 1991. Rapper Williams got the featured-credit treatment, simply "Sweat" made headlines by failing to credit its singer Martha Wash due to her non–model-sparse looks. However, Wash would be effectively avenged less than a year later, by another gild banger that fix a couple of new standards of its own.
Most of united states now think of "Marky" Marker Wahlberg's 1991 pop-rap hit "Skilful Vibrations" as the matter he did before modeling underwear, acting in movies, producing bro-y Television set shows, and talking to animals. But the vocal has a legacy, thanks to its full creative person credit: Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch featuring Loleatta Holloway. The explosive voice y'all hear on the song'south chorus belongs to the gospel-trained Holloway, in a sample from her 1980 club nail "Love Sensation"—a vocal that had as well been featured in uncredited samples on hits by Black Box and Samantha Fox. Afterwards getting the Martha Wash–way rebuff on those earlier tracks, Holloway successfully pressured Wahlberg's label to requite her featured credit on "Vibrations." In essence, Launder and Holloway were setting the '90s template for the female hook singer—the inverse of the featured-rapper model à la Rakim and Bobby Brown. When "Proficient Vibrations" topped the Hot 100 in October 1991, Holloway became not only the beginning act given full artist credit for a sample on a No. 1 hit but also the get-go chart-topping hook singer (a crown that would have already gone to Wash if C&C Music Factory had done correct by her).
By the end of '91, then, the two main models of featured-artist crossover on a big radio striking had been set: the featured bridge rapper, à la "She Ain't Worth It," and the featured hook singer, à la "Good Vibrations." Each is a recipe for melodic, tempo, and genre crossover. The onetime model takes a fluffy popular vocal and adds a frisson of hip-hop border; the latter takes a tart rap joint and leavens it with pop sweetness.
You tin break down much of the side by side 2 decades of Hot 100 hits through this prism. Some '90s and '00s hits adhering to the featured–bridge-rapper model include Michael Jackson's "Jam" featuring Heavy D; Blackstreet's "No Diggity" featuring Dr. Dre and Queen Pen; Janet Jackson's "Got til Information technology's Gone" featuring Q-Tip; Jennifer Lopez's "I'thou Real (Remix)" featuring Ja Dominion; Beyoncé'south "Crazy in Love" featuring Jay-Z; and Rihanna'due south "Umbrella" featuring Jay-Z (again). On the featured–claw-singer side, you accept Table salt-n-Pepa's "Whatta Human" featuring En Vogue; Warren One thousand'southward "Regulate" featuring Nate Dogg; Coolio's "Gangsta's Paradise" featuring L.V.; Ja Rule'due south "E'er on Time" featuring Ashanti; and Nelly's "Dilemma" featuring Kelly Rowland.
What has made the last 15 years on the chart and so remarkable, however, is how many new permutations of cross-genre lead-and-featured creative person have scored with the public—and how expansive the manufacture has get over what qualifies for credit. The liberalization of credits started by rappers has even spread across genres. In his second-wave, turn-of-the-millennium career, guitarist Carlos Santana took lead credit on a cord of Top 10 hits while superstar singers including Rob Thomas, Michelle Branch, and Nickelback'due south Chad Kroeger received the featured credits. On the mournful soul ballad "I Don't Wanna Know" past Mario Winans, a No. 2 striking in 2004, the full artist credit included non just rapper P. Diddy but also blockbuster new age warbler Enya; she didn't sing a note, but a sample of her "Story of Boadicea" formed the courage of the track and qualified her for a characteristic (a remarkable inversion of the Loleatta Holloway featured-sample regime). On Kanye West's 2005 No. 1 blast "Aureate Digger," actor-vocalist Jamie Foxx, coming off his Oscar-winning plow in Ray, received featured-artist credit for an imitation of Ray Charles that leads off the single and lasts less than 15 seconds; the rest of West'due south hit rides atop a sample of the original Charles unmarried "I Gotta Woman." (West has been known to dole out featured credits to acts like Bon Iver whose contributions are almost undetectable.) In short, the featured-artist credit has get a little bit like the Best Supporting Player or Actress Oscar: Sometimes the winner really had something closer to a leading part, and sometimes the function is not much more than a bulldoze-by.
Halfway through the 2010s, the charts are awash in featured credits. Iv-artist or even five-artist credits (betwixt leads and features) are non unheard of on event singles. The rise of electronic trip the light fantastic toe music has besides inverted the concept of the lead artist: French DJ David Guetta takes lead on almost all of his tracks despite existence supported by very starry singers and rappers, and of course Guetta's fellow Frenchmen Daft Punk took the lead credit on their blockbuster "Become Lucky," while their two veteran accompanists, Pharrell and Nile Rodgers, took featured roles. Bruno Mars launched his singing career in 2010 via a featured credit on "Nothin' on You"—a song nominally led by a rapper, B.o.B, whom Mars has long since eclipsed. This year, Justin Bieber is resuscitating his career by accepting a featured office on "Where Are Ü Now," a single led by superstar-DJ duo Skrillex and Diplo.
It'due south funny when you lot consider that all this started, however inadvertently, with "She Ain't Worth It"—a wafer-sparse single past a boy-pop crooner looking to upwards his cred and a New Jack baller looking to expand his rule. But and then, that's what the featured credit has always been about: mutual advantage. However cocky-contained some bands might exist (or claim to be), pop music, even in the and so-chosen Rock Era, has long been a fundamentally collaborative art form. Hip-hop and electronic music accept only brought this collaborative nature out in the open. This summer, when you turn up your radio for Mark Ronson'due south "Uptown Funk!" featuring Bruno Mars, Wiz Khalifa's "See Y'all Again" featuring Charlie Puth, or Taylor Swift's "Bad Blood" featuring Kendrick Lamar, y'all're experiencing the result of decades of music science—our well-nigh refined strains of genetically hybridized pop, clearly and unambiguously labeled.
**Here are those couple of asterisks: At that place are really ii No. 1 hits prior to "She Ain't Worth Information technology" that had some kind of "featuring" credit, merely they're odd cases that don't really fit the mold. The 1974 No. i instrumental striking "T.South.O.P. (The Sound of Philadelphia)" by the Philadelphia studio collective MFSB features brief vocals by R&B trio The 3 Degrees; some single labels formally credited the daughter group, just on Billboard'south charts simply MFSB were listed. In late 1984, the unmarried "Careless Whisper" was issued in the U.S., Canada, and Japan with the credit "Wham! featuring George Michael"—but Michael was a member of Wham. In England and most other countries around the world, "Careless" was a George Michael solo unmarried; Columbia Records used the odd "featuring" credit merely in countries like America where Wham was a new act, one that had just broken weeks before with "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go."
*Correction, July 31, 2015: This commodity originally misstated the nature of Grandmaster Wink'southward sampled contribution to Chaka Khan's "I Feel for You." Grandmaster Flash did not announced on the track.
Source: https://slate.com/culture/2015/07/the-history-of-featured-rappers-and-other-featured-artists-in-pop-songs.html
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