For The Record: A Tribe Called Quest 'The Low End Theory'

A Tribe Called Quest

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For The Record: A Tribe Called Quest's Groundbreaking 'The Low End Theory' At 30

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A 2021 GRAMMY Hall Of Fame inductee, 'The Low End Theory,' released in 1991, saw A Tribe Called Quest reinvent the wheel yet again, marrying the sounds of jazz and hip-hop and solidifying the group's artistic legacy
Kathy Iandoli
GRAMMYs
Feb 15, 2021 - 8:59 am

In 1991, hip-hop was in a state of flux, and A Tribe Called Quest were searching for balance. Their 1990 debut album, People's Instinctive Travels and the Paths of Rhythm, propelled the Queens, New York, group to new heights. Tribe tempered the growing gangster rap movement with their own breed of hip-hop, one full of humor, life, positivity and a more lighthearted approach to making music. Their style positioned them more as a group who loved being musicians over utilizing their rhymes to vent about the doom and gloom enveloping their environment.

Tribe, along with groups like De La Soul, Jungle Brothers and Leaders of the New School, were a part of the DAISY ("Da Inner Sound, Y'all") age of hip-hop. (De La Soul coined the term on their 1989 debut album, 3 Feet High and Rising, in which they chanted the phrase several times throughout the project.) DAISY artists donned brighter clothing, used literal daisy imagery in their artwork, music videos and album covers, and punctuated their positive messages with poignancies on Afrocentricity. Even de facto A Tribe Called Quest leader Kamaal Fareed went by MC Love Child before he was given the name Q-Tip.

Intertwined with this bohemian take on hip-hop music, several DAISY artists, including Jungle Brothers, De La Soul and A Tribe Called Quest, were also part of the Native Tongues collective, a loose network of East Coast hip-hop artists. But even if you weren't down with Native Tongues, if your music was the antithesis of the exploding gangster rap style of the time, you tangentially became a part of the DAISY Age.

A Tribe Called Quest's 'The Low End Theory' At 30

DAISY artists diverged from what most considered then to be the sonic norm for rap music, which was a rugged exterior revealing street hymns and conspiracy theories, along with stories of police brutality and gang wars. N.W.A's 1988 debut album Straight Outta Compton was mostly to thank, along with Public Enemy's 1988 album It Takes A Nation of Millions To Hold Us Back, a clarion call for the mobilization of Black people against the powers that be. It was raging against the machine at its best.

While artists of the DAISY Age discussed ways for Black people to find their own grooves and means to mobilize, albeit in a different way, Tribe and groups of their ilk were categorized under the "alternative hip-hop" subgenre, an industry move suggesting that discussions of anything other than gun talk were the exception, not the rule. They were all deemed "safe," nonviolent "alternatives," while also commanding a sound both parents and kids could mutually enjoy. It was a gift and a curse at the same time.

Read More: Busta Rhymes On Being In A "Beautiful Space" & Bringing Together Generations Of Hip-Hop Artists On 'Extinction Level Event 2'

It was a frustrating position for any critically acclaimed group paving their own path. Still, by the time A Tribe Called Quest got to work on The Low End Theory, they were more than ready to reinvent the wheel yet again. This would be the project that served as a reference point for A Tribe Called Quest as bastions of versatility. In order to prove that, they had to rework their whole style, right down to their image. There was also the added pressure of the sophomore slump. But that didn't faze lead producer Q-Tip in the least. Tribe weren't cocky—they were confident.

Tribe had a lot to prove on The Low End Theory while not coming off as tryhards. In 14 tracks, they had to somehow remove the stigmas attached to so many hip-hop artists at the time: You were either too street, too soft or too artsy, or you didn't understand a single instrument. Tribe aimed to strike that balance artfully.

Inspired by the hard thuds checkered throughout Straight Outta Compton, Q-Tip opted for bass-heavy beats on Low End.  Album opener "Excursions" oozes with those steady basslines, as does "Buggin' Out," "Check The Rhime" and closer "Scenario."

Q-Tip made it a point to masterfully bring the sounds of jazz and bebop to boom bap, where, for the first time ever, the instruments were front and center. You could listen to any song on Low End and hear every layer as it's being played, a rarity in the sample-heavy world of hip-hop. With Tribe, you experienced the masterpiece in full totality, while also seeing every stroke of the paintbrush. And despite their claims of having the jazz on "Jazz (We've Got)," Tribe didn't sound like some jazz ensemble in hard-bottom shoes anywhere on Low End. This was pure hip-hop in a new iteration by a group determined to make a mark on their own terms.

But like Q-Tip says on "Rap Promoter ("Not too modest and not a lot of pride"), Tribe had to be bolder with their messaging this time around, while still maintaining their stance on peace and positivity. On "Excursions," an idyllic intro to that creative approach, Q-Tip makes it clear that Tribe is playing the long game in rap, in the right way, while still switching the sound up. He does the same on "Verses From The Abstract," in which he takes the reins on the group's collective messaging.

This was also the moment, however, where Phife Dawg would step forward and do just enough posturing and bragging on the group's behalf. His presence was barely felt on Tribe's debut album since Phife's head wasn't all the way in the game until Q-Tip centered him. The yin to Q-Tip's yang, Phife was a 5-foot-3-inch sh*t-talker and bona fide comedian who helped the former not take the game too seriously. On "Buggin' Out," Phife is in the spotlight, and he keeps it going on "Butter" where he talks about pulling girls like "Flo" while simultaneously shining on his own for once.

Read More: 'Sir Lucious Left Foot: The Son Of Chico Dusty' At 10: The Story Behind The Missing Tracks From Big Boi's Solo Debut Album

Low End is also full of music industry cautionary tales. On "Rap Promoter," Q-Tip waxes philosophically and questions why rap promoters will invite hip-hop heads to a wack show. Tribe then expose the ills of the biz on "Show Business," with the help of Brand Nubian and Diamond D, and continue that sentiment on "Check The Rhime" where Q-Tip births the now-infamous line, "Industry rule number four-thousand-and-eighty / Record company people are shady."

Tribe's storytelling is in clear view on "The Infamous Date Rape" and "Everything Is Fair," with the former carrying a real sentiment of exposing criminal acts. It's heavy without being too dark, while tracks like "What?" are light without being too whimsy. "Skypager" sees Tribe dissecting their many reasons for carrying a beeper. At face value, the concept would seem like a whole lot of nonsense about an inanimate piece of technology. But the song ultimately places the group alongside the same beeper-carrying drug dealers from whom the industry and the media attempted to forcibly disassociate them. While Tribe aim to show they are different and unfazed by fancy gadgets, "Skypager" still echoes their main message: We are all in this together.

Then, of course, there's "Scenario." With the help of Leaders of the New School and the soon-to-be legend Busta Rhymes, the track is heavy on basslines, trash talk, braggadocio and bars. The perfect closer to the album, "Scenario" is so bullish and so energetic, it almost serves as a celebration of Tribe's accomplishment: the martini after a cinematic piece has wrapped.

The Low End Theory was somewhat of a swan song for A Tribe Called Quest in more ways than one. It was their diversion from the Native Tongues and the DAISY Age scenes, especially after the group signed to Russell Simmons' Rush Artist Management, under manager Chris Lighty, a move that would take their message to a bigger, more mainstream hip-hop audience. However, the album was also a farewell to the pigeonholed style and sound they were wedged into the first time around. After The Low End Theory, A Tribe Called Quest could fly, and the sky was the limit.

"Loops Of Funk Over Hardcore Beats": 30 Years Of A Tribe Called Quest's Debut, 'People's Instinctive Travels And The Paths Of Rhythm'

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Tupac Shakur

Tupac Shakur

Photo: Raymond Boyd/Getty Images

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For The Record: The "Thug Life" Awakening Of 2Pac's 'All Eyez On Me' At 25

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As 2Pac's final album to be released during his lifetime, 'All Eyez On Me' saw the rapper embracing his "Thug Life" style and image, while also offering a sprawling look at one of rap's brightest artists ever
William E. Ketchum III
GRAMMYs
Mar 29, 2021 - 9:02 am

There are plenty of idioms about the importance of perseverance through hard times. But as 2Pac sat in a prison cell in fall 1995, he just needed an ally. He had titled his album from March of that year Me Against The World, and that was exactly how he felt. In 1994 alone, he pled guilty to a misdemeanor after being charged with assaulting an artist at a concert at Michigan State University; he was found guilty of assaulting the directors of the film Menace II Society; and he was the victim of an armed robbery at New York City's Quad Studios that left him shot five times, leaving him paranoid that his former-friend-turned-rival Notorious B.I.G.set up the shooting and jumpstarting a musical and violent beef between the East Coast and West Coast rap scenes.

In February 1995, 2Pac, born Tupac Shakur, was convicted of sexual abuse and faced a potential sentence of nearly five years. Me Against The World had become the first album to top the Billboard charts by an artist in prison. But the three-year span before All Eyez On Me, his fourth studio album and his final to drop while he was still alive, was tumultuous, a taxing era on his spirit. And he felt that despite creating art that advocated for others, he didn't have much help when he needed it.

2Pac's 'All Eyez On Me' | For The Record

In a nervous, harrowing interview at Rikers Island with VIBE's Kevin Powell in 1995 as the rapper awaited sentencing for the sexual abuse case, Pac recounted the Quad Studios shooting and gave insight into his trauma. "I was so scared of this responsibility that I was running away from it. But I see now that whether I show up for work or not, the evil forces are going to be at me," Pac said. " ... I've been having nightmares, thinking they're still shooting me." 

He also gave his side of the sexual abuse case, stating he didn't rape the woman in question, but admitting he didn't do much to protect her from his cohorts' sexual assault, either. He sounded reformed, denouncing the thug life persona he had adopted and assuming responsibility for his music's impact. "If you see everybody dying because of what you saying, it don't matter that you didn't make them die, it just matters that you didn't save them," Pac said in the VIBE interview. " … This Thug Life stuff, it was just ignorance. My intentions was always in the right place. I never killed anybody, I never raped anybody, I never committed no crimes that weren't honorable –– that weren't to defend myself. So that's what I'm going to show them. I'm going to show people my true intentions, and my true heart."

Creating music was the last thing on 2Pac's mind while battling his demons in prison. "I don't even got the thrill to rap no more," Pac told VIBE. "In here, I don't even remember my lyrics." But his debt in the outside world was piling up just as high as his pain while locked up inside, and his money was running low as his mother was on the verge of losing her home. 

Through his wife, Pac reportedly reached out to Suge Knight for financial help, and the Death Row Records founder delivered. He reportedly sent $15,000 to the rapper and began visiting Shakur in prison. Knight eventually struck a deal: He'd get his legal team to help with Pac's case and put up the money for his $1.4 million bail; in exchange, 2Pac would deliver three albums. Pac joined the Death Row family, alongside L.A. rap behemoths Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dogg, solidifying a label roster rivaling any others rap music had ever created.

Read: For The Record: A Tribe Called Quest's Groundbreaking 'The Low End Theory' At 30

When Pac was released from prison, his repentance for Thug Life went out the window. He descended from remorse to unbridled anger: He was almost killed, he believed he was betrayed by one of his closest friends, Black civil rights leaders were speaking out against him despite his familial lineage to the Black Panther Party via his mother, Afeni Shakur, and he had spent months isolated in a prison cell for a crime he felt he didn't commit.

He also knew the big stage required dedication to a persona. "When you do rap albums, you got to train yourself," he told VIBE. "You got to constantly be in character." That's not to say Pac was putting on an act, though: Even as he contradicted himself, every word felt sincere. He showed off his iconic Thug Life tattoo on his stomach. "Yes, I did say Thug Life was dead, but when (New York's hip-hop scene) said (they didn't have information on my shooting), they breathed new life into me. Thug Life became not only a rap group, but a way of life, for life, for me," he said in another interview with VIBE. "They said I couldn't be in pain … Remember this lack of consciousness when I come out. Remember this lack of mercy when I come out. Remember this lack of compassion when I come out."

2Pac remembered, and with All Eyez On Me, he didn't let anyone else forget. He recognized his mortality and recorded at a frantic pace, creating enough original material to make one of hip-hop's first double albums, and leaving what felt like an infinite amount of records in the vault after his untimely death in 1996. (Rumors at the time circulated that Pac created a double album to speed toward his contract requirements after uneasiness arose around Suge Knight.)

He rode on his enemies across All Eyez On Me, taking on everyone who he felt turned their back on him when he needed them most. On "How Do U Want It," he spits venom at civil rights activist and politician C. Delores Tucker, who was leading the charge against rap music that year. "Instead of tryin' to help a n***a, you destroy a brother / Worse than the others; Bill Clinton, Mister Bob Dole / You're too old to understand the way the game's told," he fumes. While Pac wouldn't come after Biggie on wax by name until "Hit 'Em Up," it was clear that many of his shots weren't against the hypothetical haters that litter other rap songs. "Spitting at adversaries, envious and after me / I'd rather die before they capture me, watch me bleed," Pac says on the album opener "Ambitionz Az A Ridah."

Even the carefree fun of All Eyez On Me is tinged with jadedness. "All Bout U" has a dance-ready beat by Daz Dillinger and a melodious chorus by Nate Dogg, but Pac still distrusts women after his rape charge: "You're probably crooked as the last trick," he sneers, before he, Snoop Dogg and the Outlawz chastise women in their circle as gold-digging groupies.

The sentiment continues on songs like "Skandalouz" and "Wonda Why They Call U Bitch"; at the end of the latter, Pac speaks directly to Tucker again, stating that the song explains the misogyny in his music. He spends the first couple of verses of "2 of Amerikaz Most Wanted" celebrating his freedom with fellow indicted rapper Snoop, but by the third verse, he's refocused on protection and vengeance: "Jealousy is misery, sufferin' is greed / Better be prepared when you cowards f**k with me."

The album is two discs long, but Pac's blunt, direct style makes it fly by, like repeated shots of potent-yet-smooth scotch. His rhyme schemes weren't complex or multifaceted, but you never questioned how he felt––and his musical approach was versatile. He sounds just as much at home popping off at foes over Dre's funky synths on "Can't C Me" and seesawing with Snoop over Daz's thumping synths as he does on the temporary East Coast truce record "Got My Mind Made Up," where he and Snoop team up with Method Man and Redman over record scratches that wouldn't sound out of place in a DJ Premier set.

Dr. Dre didn't produce as much of All Eyez On Me as many would've thought when Pac signed to Death Row, but Daz Dillinger and Johnny J—with the help of DJ Quik on mixing and mastering, as reported by Pitchfork—easily hold up the sound of the album, giving it a sheen that contrasts from the dusty, unrefined tone of Pac's previous works. 

Despite the reputation of 2Pac abandoning his conscious side in favor of the Thug Life, he never strayed from his duty to speak up about the sociopolitical conditions plaguing Black people—he just switched his approach. The individual perspective may feel less direct than previous songs like "Trapped" or "Brenda's Got A Baby," but the antagonists remain the same.

On "Picture Me Rollin','' he seizes joy over a lighthearted Johnny J production despite the threats of recidivism from a racist, corrupt legal system. "They got me under surveillance / That's what somebody be tellin' / Know there's dope bein' sold, but I ain't the one sellin'," he insists. " … The federales wanna see me dead / N***as put prices on my head."

On "I Ain't Mad At Cha," he laments the deteriorating friendship with someone from his block, but he looks on proudly as his old friend embraces Islam and reforms his life after prison, even as Pac himself embraces Thug Life. In the context of the rest of the album, "I Ain't Mad At Cha'' embodies Pac at his most contradictory, compelling and tragic self: While he recognizes the conditions that push people toward street life and by showing his old friend's decision to move away from it, he dually admits he made a conscious decision to embrace the rage that sprouted from his trauma. 

That choice would cost him his life: In September 1996, he was shot and killed while leaving a boxing match, between Mike Tyson and Bruce Seldon, with Suge Knight. 2Pac was taken too soon, but All Eyez On Me still gave a sprawling, skillful image of one of rap's brightest artists ever, and an honest, fearless war cry from a man who was fighting for his life. 

N.W.A Are 'Straight Outta Compton': For The Record

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For The Record: Fugees

The Fugees

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For The Record: How The Fugees Settled 'The Score' 25 Years Ago

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When they first approached creating 'The Score,' The Fugees were hoping to win the battle. Twenty-five years later—as the latest episode of For The Record demonstrates—we see now that they won the war
Kathy Iandoli
GRAMMYs
Apr 6, 2021 - 7:19 am

When The Fugees released their second album, The Score, the timing felt eerily perfect. As hip-hop's East and West Coasts continued their tussle, their lighter-hearted approach to socially conscious rap curtailed any overarching assumptions that hip-hop was going down a "bad road." Plus, they had Lauryn Hill, who doubled as a songbird and lyrical spitfire. Together, by juxtaposing life instrumentation, soulful melodies and abstract bars, The Fugees gave hip-hop a renewed spirit and propelled it to a different kind of mainstream. 

But above all, The Score changed the way artists made their music—even 25 years later.

By the time The Fugees released The Score, was nominated for Album Of The Year and won Best Rap Album and Best R&B Performance By A Duo Or Group With Vocal for "Killing Me Softly With His Song," they were more than ready to puff out their chests. The group checked the temperature of the streets with their debut album Blunted On Reality in 1994, almost two years prior to the day of The Score's release on February 13, 1996.

The Fugees' 'The Score' At 25 | For The Record

Still, their introduction left listeners a little confused by the group's collective identity. Lauryn Hill, Wyclef Jean and Pras Michel were a lot of everything. They were eccentric Jersey kids—two-thirds of whom were Haitian—and were more than willing to fling art, politics, multi-culture and lyricism against a wall and record the sounds of what stuck and what slid off. 

The centerpiece of Blunted was the second single "Nappy Heads," a deeply rhythmic and melodic track with a video that takes place on the steps of the library at Columbia University, where Lauryn Hill was a student at the time. Hill was already the de-facto star of the group, complete with a lead role in the Whoopi Goldberg film Sister Act 2: Back In the Habit. On that debut album, she had a solo track called "Some Seek Stardom," which many point to as the moment they knew she would one day stand out from her comrades. Still, the group was full of promise and their evolution was quick and steadfast.

With The Score, The Fugees were arguably more focused. They were no longer working with Khalis Bayyan of Kool & The Gang (who theoretically influenced so much of Blunted's sound). This time, Lauryn and Wyclef took the bulk of the writing and production duties with the help of Wyclef's cousin Jerry Wonda and Salaam Remi as a creative consultant. They experimented with creating their own take on R&B-skewed hip-hop tracks and even reggae while adding a live element since Wyclef was a trained musician. 

Then, there was Lauryn Hill's phenomenally authentic singing voice, which lent itself to some of the more prominent hooks on the project. The Score was still an amalgam of everything the group stood for, but where Blunted chose to go more animated in parts, The Score opted to get deeper and darker in both sound and style. 

"Red Intro" sets a unique tone as the opener. The track is a monologue that challenges rappers' desires to posture themselves as gangsters and pretend to be mobsters when people are dying out in the streets. It's an unequivocal backhand to nearly everything that was happening in hip-hop at the time. 

There was a rise in neo-gangster rap, where artists like Tupac Shakur and The Notorious B.I.G. were poetically flaunting wealth and gun talk, woven expertly through their bars. They were the byproduct of '80s artists like N.W.A., and while that surge in gangster rap was tempered by hip-hop's D.A.I.S.Y. Age (A Tribe Called Quest, De La Soul, etc.), the '90s now had groups like The Fugees and The Roots, who stood in stark contrast to Pac and Biggie. 

But there was more to the mission of The Score, considering the group didn't want to be relegated to one corner of hip-hop. So they dropped breadcrumbs throughout the album to show they knew how to stunt, they were aware of the on-goings of the world, yet they could even be strapped… if they wanted to be. The Score is laden with innuendos, firing shots at the competition while simultaneously making biblical references about false prophets. The songs tell a story from beginning to end, with peaks and valleys.

The album's introductory track "How Many Mics" gets the chest-thumping started early, as the group details their creative superiority over so many other emcees. The concept of The Score was layered; The Fugees felt slighted by the lukewarm response of their first album and this was pure redemption. They use the title track to tie that all together by the middle of the project, by even sampling parts of the rest of the album on the song's hook.

"Ready Or Not" takes an Enya sample and transforms it into a battle cry that doubles as a love song. Tracks like "Zealots" take jabs at biting emcees who dumb their work down for mainstream attention, where "The Mask" goes in on manufactured personas. "The Beast" is a politically charged anthem that tackles political corruption and police brutality, further extended on the track "Family Business," about how being Black and in America can have you murdered for no reason.

"Fu-Gee-La" takes on more braggadocio, along with "Cowboys" which features another New Jersey rap outfit: The Outsidaz, starring a young Rah Digga. "No Woman, No Cry" mourns those who have passed due to violence. The "Manifest/Outro" has Lauryn contemplating suicide over a toxic breakup. 

Then, of course, there's "Killing Me Softly," the Roberta Flack remake that shifted gears for The Fugees and made them a household name. Thanks to "Killing Me Softly," more attention was paid to the project as a whole, so the casual rap listener suddenly became a hip-hop fan once they experienced The Score. That was The Fugees' superpower: they won over massive audiences with messaging that hip-hop was struggling to convey on a greater platform. Some saw it as a curse to the purity of the art, but in the events that followed it became a gift.

What happened following The Score's release was complicated. Tupac Shakur was murdered in September 1996, The Notorious B.I.G. was murdered in March 1997, and Puffy's "Shiny Suit Era" threatened the purism of hip-hop even more. This gave The Fugees an open lane to not only secure that mainstream success, but retain some of the integrity of hip-hop's soul that they were ironically accused of snatching prior to those milestone events in hip-hop's history.

The spoiler alert here was that they were always being their true selves the whole time. The Fugees were eccentric, they were artsy, and they were messengers—of the lives they lived and of those they witnessed around them. They weren't afraid to toss around hard bars on The Score nor were they too scared to let Lauryn's voice softly coat the hooks. They spoke about anything and everything they damn well pleased. 

In the decades that followed, rappers who could carry a tune emulated exactly what Lauryn and the Fugees did by alternating between rapping and singing, and weren't afraid in one song to talk about love and society in the next. It was a lasting impression that became one of hip-hop's many archetypes, and it started with a couple of kids who loved being eccentric. 

When they first approached creating The Score, The Fugees were hoping to win the battle. Twenty-five years later, we see now that they won the war.

'The Miseducation Of Lauryn Hill': For The Record

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Artwork for For The Record episode on LeAnn Rimes' 'Blue'

LeAnn Rimes

Photo: KMazur/WireImage

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For The Record: How 'Blue' Made LeAnn Rimes A Global Pop Star

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Released in 1996, LeAnn Rimes' GRAMMY-winning breakthrough album 'Blue' introduced the artist as country music's next rising star and propelled her into global pop stardom
Jim Beaugez
GRAMMYs
Jul 9, 2021 - 6:55 pm

The biggest thing in country music in the spring of 1996 wasn't very "country" at all. Aside from a token fiddle flair here and a steel guitar slide there, the genre's most successful artists, including then-newcomers Shania Twain and Faith Hill, were essentially singing countrified pop songs.

Still, this wasn't the first time Nashville went all-in on pop: Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton both successfully crossed over from country to pop, and their 1983 soft rock duet "Islands in the Stream," which hit No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100, is an enduring example of crossover potential. But after Garth Brooks set the template for massive crossover success with No Fences, his smash 1990 album that supplemented his Okie twang with rock and pop arrangements, Nashville retooled its machine to pump out singers who could appeal to mainstream audiences.

All of which makes the summer 1996 breakout success of "Blue," a throwback to 1950s country and western sung by a then-13-year-old LeAnn Rimes, either a calculated move to stand out from the pack or a complete fluke. Twenty-five years later, history has proven neither perspective entirely true nor false.

How 'Blue' Made LeAnn Rimes A Global Pop Star

A Texan, by way of Mississippi, with a commanding voice, Rimes began performing at talent shows and in musical theater productions in Dallas at age 6 in the late '80s. She got her first taste of the big time in 1990 when she competed on the pre-"American Idol" national talent showcase, "Star Search," a move that elevated her profile on the Texas country music circuit. While Rimes caught the ears of many influential locals, Bill Mack, a Dallas radio disc jockey known as the "Midnight Cowboy" on WBAP-AM, heard something extra special in her voice.

Mack, a songwriter himself, still believed in an ill-fated song called "Blue," which he wrote way back in 1958. He recorded a version of the song that year in Wichita Falls, Texas, for the Starday label; Billboard described it as "a slow-tempo, relaxed item, with Mack's vocal backed by instrumentation featuring a honky tonk type piano" and called it "a flavorsome side."

Read: Carrie Underwood On Creating Her First Gospel Album, My Savior, Working With CeCe Winans, & Making "Legacy Music"

"Blue" earned local radio airplay, but it failed to find a wider audience. In an effort to amplify the song's reach, Mack hired a female singer to record a new version he could shop around. Then he hit on the notion that Patsy Cline might be the right singer for it and arranged to meet her backstage in San Antonio to pitch the song. He grabbed Roger Miller's guitar and played the song for her, Mack recalls in a GRAMMY Foundation Living History interview. "She said, 'Send that thing to me, I like it.'" Before she could record it, though, Cline died in a plane crash in 1963.

A few other singers took their shots with "Blue" over the years, but Mack knew he had a winner in Rimes. She subsequently recorded a version of the song at age 11 in 1993 for her 1994 independent release All That, which sold 15,000 copies locally and brought interest from Nashville's Curb Records. The label signed Rimes and released "Blue" as her first national single in May 1996, a little more than a month ahead of her album of the same name in July.

"Blue" was a breakout success, driven by Rimes' ability "to convey pain without betraying her tender age or inexperience," as critic Mike Joyce wrote in The Washington Post as the song was gaining popularity in August 1996.

Although "Blue" could have fallen into the novelty music trap, where songs that recall earlier musical styles often go, the song's classic country vibe wasn't a put-on; it was genuinely of the era, a forgotten tune rendered timeless by Rimes' soaring performance. But even Rimes herself, at 13, wasn't sure "Blue" was the right song to release from her 11-track debut album.

"I was very skeptical when 'Blue' was released as a single because it was very traditional, and I knew radio was gonna be hesitant to play it," Rimes told Texas Monthly in 1996. "They call it retro, but it's true country music and it's totally different from contemporary country, which has the pop feel."

In a way, Rimes' instincts were correct: "Blue" peaked at No. 10 on Billboard's Hot Country Songs chart, a remarkable feat but not exactly a smash hit. That honor went to the follow-up single, the more contemporary "One Way Ticket (Because I Can)," which remains her only No. 1 hit on that chart. Still, "Blue" did kick open the doors for Rimes, who would chart five total singles from Blue, including the Top 10 hit "The Light in Your Eyes" and "Hurt Me," a ballad that marries classic and contemporary touches. (Blue ultimately peaked at No. 3 on the Billboard 200 chart in August 1996.)

Blue, both the six-times platinum album and its breakthrough title track, marked Rimes' official arrival to the global pop stage. At the 39th GRAMMY Awards, held in 1997, Rimes, then 14, became the youngest person to win a GRAMMY, a title she still holds today; that night, she won two GRAMMYs: Best New Artist and Best Female Country Vocal Performance for "Blue," the song that started it all.

Rimes then swept the 1997 Academy of Country Music Awards, winning Top New Female Vocalist, Song of the Year and Single Record of the Year. She also became the youngest person to ever be nominated and win the Country Music Association Awards' Horizon Award, the best New Artist equivalent.

Curb capitalized on their new star: As songs from Blue still worked their way up the charts, the label issued the compilation Unchained Melody: The Early Years, in February 1997, which comprised her pre-fame independent recordings; the album topped the Billboard 200 chart the following month. Her cover of the Righteous Brothers' "Unchained Melody" hit No. 3 on Billboard's Hot Country Songs chart in March 1997, while the Blue standout, "The Light in Your Eyes," peaked at No. 5 three months later.

LeAnn Rimes Wins Best New Artist

In the wake of Blue, Rimes cashed in on her country music credibility for crossover success on the level of Twain and Hill, who both landed mega pop hits in 1998—Twain's "You're Still the One" and Hill's "This Kiss" were both Top 10 hits on the Billboard Hot 100 chart—after flirting with the mainstream chart the previous year.

Rimes' big crossover came with the Diane-Warren-penned single "How Do I Live," a straightforward pop ballad that peaked at No. 2 during its 69 weeks on the Billboard Hot 100 chart, at the time the longest run in the chart's history, and placed at No. 1 on the Top 20 Billboard Hot 100 Hits of the 1990s.

To date, Rimes has sold more than 37 million records worldwide, with many of her albums and songs charting higher and crossing over more definitively into pop music. Still, "Blue" remains her signature song. And Rimes proved she still has the pipes to deliver the goods: On a 2011 rerecording of the song for the album of standards, Lady & Gentlemen, she croons with the depth of a thousand broken hearts.

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Artwork for For The Record episode on Beyoncé's '4'

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Photo: Kevin Winter/American Idol 2011/Getty Images

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For The Record: The Creative Rebirth Of Beyoncé On '4'

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For the 100th episode of our For The Record series, GRAMMY.com takes you inside Beyoncé's GRAMMY-winning, platinum-selling 2011 album, '4,' an ode to the classics that ignited a personal and creative rebirth for the singer and launched a new chapter
Bianca Gracie
GRAMMYs
Jun 27, 2021 - 4:27 pm

Just before the 2010s, streaming services like Spotify, Apple Music and Pandora picked up where Napster rose and fell in the late '90s, driving the music industry toward a singles-driven market. Beyoncé's 4 album showed she was clearly not having it. In her 2013 HBO documentary, Life Is But A Dream, she targeted the then-burgeoning trend.

"It's a tough time for the music industry. I'm an artist that tours, I'm an artist that makes albums," she explained in an exasperated tone. "People don't make albums anymore, they just try to sell a bunch of quick singles and they burn out and they put out a new one. People don't even listen to a body of work anymore."

Before hip-hop dominated streaming in 2017, EDM and pop wore listeners out on sticky dance floors. Everyone wanted a piece of the mainstream radio pie, with songs like Usher's "OMG," Lady Gaga's "Poker Face," Rihanna's "Only Girl (In The World)," Jay-Z's and Alicia Keys' "Empire State of Mind," and the Black Eyed Peas' "Boom Boom Pow" ruling Billboard's Top 40 chart before and during the new decade.

But rewind just a few years before the release of Beyoncé's 4, a time when she, too, was caught up in the same sonic whirlwind she seemingly resented. In 2008, Queen Bey was at the height of her career thanks to her mammoth third solo album I Am...Sasha Fierce.

The Creative Rebirth Of Beyoncé On '4'

She scored five GRAMMY wins at the 52nd GRAMMY Awards in 2010, including Song Of The Year for "Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It)"), becoming the first woman artist to win six GRAMMYs in one night. "Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It)," "Halo," "If I Were A Boy," and "Sweet Dreams" were inescapable Top 10 singles. Beyoncé later doubled down on her mainstream presence by collaborating twice with Lady Gaga: "Video Phone" off Sasha Fierce and "Telephone" off Gaga's The Fame Monster. Bey's growing trendiness led to I Am... World Tour, her biggest and highest-grossing international trek at the time.

"After the last tour I was a bit overwhelmed and overworked," she explained in her 2011 Year of 4 documentary. "My mother was the person that preached to me and almost harassed me every day after I was doing the last world tour: 'You really need to live your life and open your eyes. You don't want to wake up with no memories and never really being able to see the world.'"

After the tour, Beyoncé announced a year-long hiatus to catch up on sleep and rethink her life's purpose. Her worldwide exploration of places like the Great Wall of China, the Egyptian pyramids and the Red Sea gave her insight, grounded her as a human, and eventually inspired 4, whose special title signifies the date of her marriage to Jay-Z, both their birthdays and her mother's birthday.

Released in June 2011, 4 is a 12-track refocus of Beyoncé's artistry on which she disregarded making music solely for mainstream appeal. The album's heightened maturity is reflective of three life changes. Two months prior to the album's release, the artist mutually severed management ties with her father Mathew Knowles, who'd guided her career even before the birth of Destiny's Child in the '90s. Around that time, according to Jay-Z, she became pregnant with Blue Ivy Carter during a Paris trip for the album's cover shoot. And along with being a new mother, she would soon enter her 30s.

Needless to say, Beyoncé was already "Drunk In Love" before the ubiquitous 2013 hit won two GRAMMYs three years later. And what better way to celebrate romance than with R&B? But instead of modernizing the sound as she did on previous albums, the artist opted to highlight the genre's traditional roots.

4 is more stripped-down compared to the gloss of I Am...Sasha Fierce, the liveliness of B'Day, and the contemporary radio-friendliness of Dangerously in Love. Instead, 4 is an ode to the classics. "Love On Top" resurrects the vibrancy of '80s R&B, a time when all-stars like the Jackson 5 and Whitney Houston upheld the heart of Motown's past. The song's retro appeal continues in its music video, with Beyoncé going full New Edition via boy band choreography.

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Nostalgia proved to be a winning formula: "Love On Top" won the GRAMMY for Best Traditional R&B Performance at the 55th GRAMMY Awards in 2013. The album then heads to '60s Philadelphia soul on "Rather Die Young," where Beyoncé uses the melodrama she picked up from her film roles in Dreamgirls and Cadillac Records to fuel the impassioned vocals and lyrics: "You're my James Dean / You make me feel like I'm 17," she whispers in the first chorus.

"Run The World (Girls)," the lead single off 4, was a total red herring. The female empowerment anthem, which samples Major Lazer's "Pon De Floor," doesn't indicate the album's time travel. (Diplo later pops in to co-produce "End of Time," a wildly addictive tribute to Nigerian Afrobeat pioneer, Fela Kuti).

The unapologetic mushiness of 4 is balanced by uptempos that remind you just why Beyoncé is a superstar. "Best Thing I Never Had," an unofficial sequel to the singer's 2006 GRAMMY-nominated anthem "Irreplaceable," finds her classily kicking a no-good man to the curb while trading Ne-Yo's pen for Babyface. The effervescent "Countdown" is wholly dedicated to her longtime boo, Jay-Z. Sampling Boyz II Men's 1991 hit "Uhh Ahh," the brass-heavy single shows off her signature rap-singing style first debuted with Destiny's Child: "Still love the way he talk, still love the way I sing / Still love the way he rock them black diamonds in that chain."

The '90s pop up on "Party," the laid-back groove dripping in "swagu" thanks to Kanye West's co-writing and co-producing credits. The album's version features Outkast's too-smooth André 3000, while the video features a then-rising J. Cole. 4 then heads back to the '80s for the bonus track "Schoolin' Life." Here, Beyoncé channels Prince as her playful vocals weave between an irresistibly funkified melody.

What makes 4 special is Beyoncé's vocal growth. There's the grit of "I Care," whose rawness cuts deep—"You see these tears falling down to my ears / I swear, you like when I'm in pain"—as she scats alongside the electric guitar solo; the infectious opening run on "Countdown"; the tenderness of "I Miss You," influenced by co-writer Frank Ocean; the emotionally unguarded "1+1," which riffs off Sam Cooke's 1960 classic "Wonderful World"; and the jaw-dropping four-key change on "Love on Top."

"Strong enough to bear the children / Then get back to business," Beyoncé affirms on "Run The World (Girls)." It's the motto of the 4 era: The album is the artist's lowest-selling LP to date, but just as she reassures in Life Is But A Dream, that was never the point. She helped revitalize the album's art form while proving that women can balance their careers and motherhood, all while taking major risks. After parting ways with her father, Beyoncé founded Parkwood Entertainment, a Columbia Records imprint and management company, which helped bring 4 to life.

Of course, this is Beyoncé, so the accolades were still impressive: The platinum-selling 4 continued her hot streak of debuting atop the Billboard 200 chart. And along with "Love On Top" winning a GRAMMY, album single "Party" earned a GRAMMY nomination for Best Rap/Sung Collaboration at the 54th GRAMMY Awards in 2012.

The album's vulnerability led to the world-stopping, industry-shifting surprise drop of Beyoncé in 2013 and the gripping Lemonade in 2016, both revealing more layers of heartache, overt sexuality, postpartum depression, socio-political injustices, feminism, trauma, infidelity, and forgiveness.

That continued intimacy worked in her favor tenfold: At the 2021 GRAMMY Awards show, Beyoncé made GRAMMY history when she became the performing artist with the most career GRAMMY wins with a total of 28, as well as the most nominated woman artist, counting 79 GRAMMY nominations overall. It all goes back to taking a chance on herself with 4, which further shaped a legacy that now matches the same legends she honored on this very album.

"There is room on this Earth for many queens. I have an authentic, God-given talent, drive and longevity that will always separate me from everyone else," she told Complex in 2011. "I've been fortunate to accomplish things that the younger generation of queens dream of accomplishing. I have no desire for anyone else's throne. I am very comfortable in the throne I've been building for the past 15 years."

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