HIGH AND RISING

Rappers who broke the mold.

When De La Soul released their first album, 3 Feet High and Rising in 1989, it immediately caught the ears of music critics and hip-hop fans. The single “Me Myself and I,” with its irresistible sampling of Funkadelic’s “(Not Just) Knee Deep” under the quirky, sauntering rhymes of Kelvin Mercer, David Jolicoeur, and Vincent Mason, stood in sharp contrast to the urgent, hard-edged tales of street life from the biggest rap acts of the day. Moore was a nerdy, gifted kid in a Washington, D.C., suburb when he first heard the album at a cousin’s house, and it made a huge impression on him. “They didn’t portray themselves as gangsters like N.W.A or smooth-talking ladies’ men like Big Daddy Kane or LL Cool J,” Moore writes. “Instead, De La appealed to the Black alternative….They spoke to those who didn’t conform to what Black was supposed to be.” Legal troubles over samples and contractual disagreements kept the Long Island trio’s music off streaming platforms until shortly after Jolicoeur’s death in 2023, which only added to their mystique. The reader may feel cheated of new information about the group or wish that Moore had provided a more detailed analysis of its music and sociological impact. Then again, the author notes, the musicians didn’t talk to him for the book.

An affecting memoir of a music journalist’s lifelong relationship with an eccentric rap trio.