10. The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill - Lauryn Hill

2000.

Walking through my local CD store, I see the album from ‘that singer from the Fugees’.

I’m late to the show, but the cover art is pretty cool and I really liked the Fugees, so I’ll grab it and see if it’s any good.

It wasn’t good, of course.

It was so much more than that.

It was (and still is) a life-changing, furious feat of artistic perfection. It’s raw, fierce, exquisite, layered and powerful.

Ex-Factor. To Zion. Final Hour. Doo Wop. Every Ghetto. Nothing Even Matters. Can’t Take My Eyes Off You.

I’ve listened to these songs every week of my life for the last 18 years.

It has been a constant presence in my life.

I play it so often that this record will be a touchstone for my son, the music his Dad listened to all the time.

It takes me back to my brother, sister and I playing it on my stereo, on repeat and at full volume, while we (slowly) got the chores done before Mum got home.

It is also, to me, the greatest hip hop album ever made.

If you’re not familiar with it, I implore you to find the time to listen to it all the way through.

Listen to it properly, the way we used to back when we had time to indulge in such an experience.

Ride along on the lyrical wordplay, bump to the beats and let your ears drag out the musicianship.

Embrace the paradoxical joy and heartbreak at the core of this brilliance.

Hear it in her voice when she sings on Ex-Factor:

Is this just a silly game
That forces you to act this way?
Forces you to scream my name
Then pretend that you can’t stay
Tell me, who I have to be
To get some reciprocity
No one loves you more than me
And no one ever will

And the flipside when she effortlessly drops these rhymes on Final Hour:

Now I be breaking bread sipping
Manichevitz wine
Pay no mind party like it’s 1999
But when it comes down to ground beef like Palestine
Say your rhymes, let’s see if that get you out your bind
Now I’m a get the mozzarella like a Rockefeller
Still be in the church of Lalibela, singing hymns a cappella
Whether posed in Maribella in Couture
Or collecting residuals from off The Score
I’m making sure I’m with the 144
I’ve been here before this ain’t a battle, this is war

This is, at it’s heart, an exploratory album documenting the trials of her life at the time.

But there are complexities in there too — the play between pain and joy, the links between suffering and development.

Because this is a break up album, but also an ode to joy.

It’s a declaration of power and a confession of regrets.

It’s a voice for independence and a plea for community.

It’s a reclamation of creative ground that uses samples to craft the tunes.

But the first few tracks are a powerful dissection of a relationship breakdown.

And I’m confident the opening 1–2 combo of Lost Ones and Ex-Factor will leave anyone going through a break up punching the air.

Then, potentially, crying.

Lost Ones

Lost Ones sees Lauryn Hill ripping apart her time with her former bandmate, Wyclef, burning the ground behind her as she proudly strides into a gloriously uncertain future.

The beat is forceful, pounding on her past while her lyrics shred it to pieces.

And the delivery…from spitting fire to singing honey, Hill nails every single part of the vocals.

Even the overdubbed vocal flourishes added at the end, suggesting, incredibly, that she’s holding back on this track, that she’s not using anywhere near her full energy.

For anyone hurt by someone, or going through a break up, and looking for an affirmation of what the Lost One that left has really lost, put this song on.

Ex-Factor

The album pivots, a little, away from the acid and fury of Lost Ones to a raw examination of the pain left behind after the end of a relationship.

Hill pleads for an explanation, some reason why it was acceptable to treat her so badly, seeking the ‘reciprocity’ she deserved.

If Lost Ones was Lauryn Hill burning down the house, this is her standing across the road, watching it fall down with her jaw set and tears in her eyes.

She knows it had to be burnt down. It was, to continue the metaphor, condemned.

But just because something has to end doesn’t mean that we want it to.

And just because we’re stronger for it doesn’t mean we can’t mourn it.

Just because there were times of awful toxicity, there were also times of amazing happiness.

And while the former kills everything else, we can still wonder why the balance was so far off.

The end of a relationship brings with it so many questions, and they’re often the ones you can never actually ask the Lost One.

Well, Lauryn Hills asks them and finds that while she doesn’t have the answers, she does have the strength to walk away.

No matter how hard he makes it, no matter his pleas and cries, she knows that she’ll never get the respect and love she deserves by staying around.

Then the second half of the songs kicks in, and I have no way of describing it other than as an escalating form of a one-person call-and-response of recrimination.

This song is crushingly sad, but still affirming and uplifting.

To call it a ‘break up song’ is to do it (and Hill) a disservice.

It’s so much more than that.

But that’s a pretty consistent theme with this album. There’s just so much more to it.

Much more than I can possibly explore in a simple blog post.

There’s Santana’s guitar on the achingly touching dedication to her then-unborn son, To Zion;

The biggest hit off the album, Doo Wop (That Thing);

The power of Everything is Everything;

The joy of childhood freedom in Every Ghetto, Every City;

The pure groove of Nothing Even Matters;

Her cover — with beatbox opening and all — of Can’t Take My Eyes Off You; easily the best since Heath Ledger’s.

And finally, the closer, which still sends a chill up my spine. 

Tell Him is almost a summary of the album’s themes, the sound of Hill exploring what love is and what that means in her relationship and dedication to her faith.

I love this album.

It redeemed hip-hop for me.

It treasures uncertainty and curiosity.

It’s the soundtrack to exploration and self-definition.

It has some of my favourite beats.

It has some of my favourite rhymes.

And it’s a tremendously personal piece of art created by an indomitable talent.

I hope you enjoy it too.

PS: I also came across the Dissect podcast recently, which does a really good ‘deep-dive’ into this album, pulling apart the music with a level of technical detail right at the limits of my knowledge.

I learnt a lot from it and it can be found here .