Licensed to Ill in Bloomington, MN

Perhaps
Licensed to Ill
was inevitable -- a white group blending
rock
and
rap
, giving them the first number one album in
hip-hop
history. But that reading of the album's history gives short shrift to
the Beastie Boys
; producer
Rick Rubin
, and his label,
Def Jam
, and this remarkable record, since mixing
metal
isn't necessarily an easy thing to do. Just sampling and scratching
Sabbath
Zeppelin
to
beats does not make for an automatically good record, though there is a visceral thrill to hearing those muscular riffs put into overdrive with scratching. But, much of that is due to the producing skills of
, a metalhead who formed
Def Jam Records
with
Russell Simmons
and had previously flirted with this sound on
Run-D.M.C.
's
Raising Hell
, not to mention a few singles and one-offs with
the Beasties
prior to this record. He made
rock, but to give him lone credit for
(as some have) is misleading, since that very same combination would not have been as powerful, nor would it have aged so well -- aged into a
classic -- if it weren't for
, who fuel this record through their passion for subcultures, pop culture, jokes, and the intoxicating power of wordplay. At the time, it wasn't immediately apparent that their obnoxious patter was part of a persona (a fate that would later plague
Eminem
), but the years have clarified that this was a joke -- although, listening to the cajoling rhymes, filled with clear parodies and absurdities, it's hard to imagine the offense that some took at the time. Which, naturally, is the credit of not just the music -- they don't call it the devil's music for nothing -- but the wild imagination of
, whose rhymes sear into consciousness through their gonzo humor and gleeful delivery. There hasn't been a funnier, more infectious record in
pop
music than this, and it's not because the group is mocking rappers (in all honesty, the truly twisted barbs are hurled at frat boys and lager lads), but because they've already created their own universe and points of reference, where it's as funny to spit out absurdist rhymes and pound out
"Fight for Your Right (To Party)"
as it is to send up street corner
doo wop
"Girls."
Then, there is the overpowering loudness of the record -- operating from the axis of where
,
punk
, and
meet, there never has been a record this heavy and nimble, drunk on its own power yet giddy with what they're getting away with. There is a sense of genuine discovery, of creating new music, that remains years later, after countless plays, countless misinterpretations, countless rip-off acts, even countless apologies from
, who seemed guilty by how intoxicating the sound of it is, how it makes beer-soaked hedonism sound like the apogee of human experience. And maybe it is, maybe it isn't, but in either case,
reigns tall among the greatest records of its time. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine