Rediscovering Hip Hop #2 The Lost Art of the 90s Mixtape – When DJs Controlled the Streets
Taking another look at the albums, artists, and moments that shaped hip hop culture.
There are certain moments in my hip hop journey that I can still picture clearly decades later.
My first visit to New York is definitely one of them.
I'd spent years listening to New York through my speakers. The Bronx, Brooklyn, Queens, Harlem, Staten Island—these weren't just places on a map to me. I'd heard them shouted out on records, watched them in videos and seen them represented by some of my favourite MCs.
Then suddenly, I was there.
I remember walking around New York as a wide-eyed hip hop fan from London, trying to soak up absolutely everything. It genuinely felt like hip hop was in the air.
This was the culture I'd loved from thousands of miles away, except now I was standing right in the middle of it.
And this was the 90s.
No Instagram.
No Spotify.
No YouTube.
No algorithm telling me what was hot.
If you wanted to know what was happening in hip hop, sometimes you had to go looking for it.
And that's exactly what I did.
New York Was Like Walking Into My Record Collection
The record shops alone were an experience.
I remember seeing posters everywhere promoting the latest releases. Albums we now casually call classics were simply the new joints at the time.
Mobb Deep had Hell on Earth.
Ghostface Killah had Ironman.
Lil' Kim had Hard Core.
Think about that for a second.
Today we discuss those records with decades of history attached to them. Back then, they were fresh.
That's something I always remember about that trip. I wasn't looking at posters celebrating classic albums from the past.
I was watching classics being born in real time.
Then you'd walk into certain shops and see photographs of rappers who had visited.
That was another buzz for me.
I'd be standing there thinking, these are the same shops the artists I've been listening to actually come into.
For a hip hop fan visiting New York for the first time, that made everything feel even more real.
But one particular shopping trip would introduce me to another part of New York hip hop culture that would stay with me permanently.
Fordham Road, The Bronx
Eventually, I made my way to Fordham Road in the Bronx.
And that's where the mixtapes came in.
I remember seeing this huge selection of tapes, being sold by a latin looking guy outside one of the many clothes shops.
There were so many that I didn't really know where to begin.
Different DJs.
Different covers.
Different artists.
Different volumes.
Names I recognised and names I didn't.
Remember, there was no phone in my pocket where I could quickly search:
"Best New York mixtapes."
There were no ratings.
No comments.
No previews.
You made a decision.
So that's exactly what I did.
I randomly selected four mixtapes.
Looking back now, I love that.
Because there was something exciting about buying music when you didn't know exactly what you were going to get.
Two of those tapes in particular would leave a serious impression on me.
One was 'Street Dreams' by legendary Harlem DJ/producer named Ron G.
The other was Tony Touch's Tape #50.
I didn't realise it at the time, but I'd just walked out with two very different examples of what made New York mixtape culture so dope.
DJ Ron G – More Than Just Playing Records
Ron G became one of the DJs who really made me appreciate what a mixtape could be.
And years later, he would become a friend of mine, which makes looking back at those early memories even more special.
But back then?
I was simply listening as a fan.
What grabbed me was the combination.
Hard 90s hip hop.
A splash of R&B.
Freestyles.
Blends.
Banging records.
And dope scratching.
From the intro to the finish Ron G would take his listeners on a journey demonstrating his talents as a top tier DJ and hype host. Ron G could bring R&B into a hard hip hop environment without making the tape lose its edge. That combination became part of his identity.
But there was another ingredient that I think gets overlooked when people talk about classic mixtapes.
The hosting.
The DJ Was Taking You on a Journey
Ron G's hosting wasn't something sitting on top of the music.
It was part of the whole experience.
That's important.
He'd give shout-outs.
Introduce tracks.
Set up what was coming next.
Talk between records.
Hype an MC.
Then hit you with some dope scratching, bringing back a dope lyric several times, before taking the tape somewhere else.
His voice became another layer of the journey.
The DJ was almost your guide through the tape.
And when it was done properly, it was dope.
You weren't simply wondering what record was coming next.
You were waiting to hear what Ron G was going to do next.
That's a big difference.
Sometimes a DJ would introduce something and immediately create anticipation.
Sometimes he'd let you know you were about to hear an exclusive.
Sometimes an MC would spit something particularly hard and the DJ's reaction would almost mirror your own.
And sometimes?
Bring that back!
The rewind was part of the culture too.
If somebody dropped a crazy bar, you might hear the DJ pull the whole thing back.
You were hearing it again whether you liked it or not!
And most of the time, you wanted to.
Hosting Was an Art
I genuinely believe hosting a mixtape properly was an art form.
Talk too much and you could ruin the music.
Talk too little and the tape could lose some of its personality.
A dope host understood the balance.
When to speak.
When to shout somebody out.
When to introduce the next joint.
When to scratch.
When to rewind.
And most importantly...
When to shut up and let the MC spit.
The best mixtape DJs understood all of that.
That's why their tapes had identities.
Take away the drops, scratching, introductions, shout-outs and personality and you weren't necessarily left with the same experience.
You weren't just buying twenty songs.
You were buying that DJ's version of those twenty songs.
That's something streaming playlists simply can't recreate.
Then I Put On Tony Touch Tape #50...
If Ron G showed me one side of mixtape culture, Tony Touch showed me another.
And this one was straight hip hop.
Tape #50: Power Cypha.
Fifty MCs.
Classic beats.
And bars.
Lots of them.
The tape became the first of Tony Touch's celebrated Power Cypha projects and featured a ridiculous collection of MCs including KRS-One, Kool G Rap, Busta Rhymes, Guru, Inspectah Deck, Jeru the Damaja, Onyx, Das EFX, Smoothe Da Hustler and many more.
For somebody like me who has always loved spitters, this was exactly what I wanted.
MC after MC jumping on a selection of known fire beats of the time and spitting bars.
No complicated concept needed.
Give a dope rapper a banging beat.
Press record.
Spit.
There was something beautifully raw about that.
When Bars Were Your Introduction
This is another part of mixtape culture I miss.
An artist didn't necessarily need a massive single to get your attention.
Sometimes all they needed was one crazy freestyle.
You might hear an MC you'd never heard before come onto somebody else's beat and absolutely destroy it.
Immediately you'd want to know:
Who was THAT?
That's discovery.
And mixtapes were brilliant at it.
A rapper could build a serious street reputation without having a hit record.
Sometimes before an artist's album arrived, hip hop heads already knew they could spit because they'd been hearing them tearing up mixtapes.
That mattered.
Doo Wop and the Art of the Freestyle
As I got deeper into mixtape culture, Doo Wop became another important name for me.
His legendary 95 Live perfectly represents what made this era so special.
That tape brought together exclusives and freestyles from MCs including Q-Tip, Busta Rhymes, Fat Joe, M.O.P., Guru and members of Wu-Tang, alongside some of the hottest records of the period.
Again, look at what the DJ was doing.
He wasn't merely compiling songs.
He was curating a moment in hip hop.
When you listen back today, you're almost opening a time capsule.
You can hear which records were hot.
Which MCs were buzzing.
Which beats everybody wanted to rhyme over.
Which styles were developing.
That's history captured on cassette.
Funkmaster Flex – When the Mixtape Hit My Turntables
Another major part of my mixtape journey was Funkmaster Flex and his 60 Minutes of Funk projects, which I bought on vinyl.
I loved those records, and unlike many albums where I'd jump straight to my favourite tracks, these were records I would play from beginning to end. The whole project was the experience.
Flex brought that unmistakable New York energy—banging tracks, freestyles, exclusives, big-name MCs and that larger-than-life DJ personality holding everything together.
Having 60 Minutes of Funk on vinyl made it even more special for me. As a DJ, I could put those same records on my own turntables, drop the needle and experience them from another perspective.
Flex was another example of how important the DJ's personality was during this era. The voice, drops, selection, energy and hosting all became part of the music.
Once again, the DJ wasn't simply playing hip hop.
The DJ was part of the hip hop.
Mixtapes Were Our Internet
I've thought about this a lot over the years.
The closest comparison I can make for younger hip hop fans is this:
Mixtapes were part of our internet.
Not literally, obviously.
But culturally?
Absolutely.
You wanted to hear something new?
Mixtape.
Wanted an unreleased joint?
Mixtape.
Wanted to hear an MC freestyle?
Mixtape.
Wanted a remix that wasn't on the album?
Mixtape.
Wanted to know which rappers were bubbling underground?
Mixtape.
Wanted to hear somebody rhyme over the hottest beat in New York?
Mixtape.
Information travelled through those tapes.
Music travelled through those tapes.
Reputations travelled through those tapes.
And eventually those tapes travelled around the world.
Including back to London with me.
EXCLUSIVE!
Then there was one word that could instantly get your attention.
EXCLUSIVE!
If you lived through the mixtape era, you know.
There was something special about hearing a record you couldn't simply walk into another shop and buy.
Maybe it wasn't finished.
Maybe it wasn't cleared.
Maybe it was an alternative version.
Maybe it was a freestyle.
Maybe it wouldn't appear officially for months.
Sometimes it would never officially appear at all.
But the DJ had it.
And that gave DJs serious power.
DJs Could Break Records
This is the part that can't be forgotten.
Mixtape DJs could help break artists and records.
A hot record getting onto the right tape could start creating noise in the streets before mainstream radio had even caught up.
The DJs became tastemakers.
Almost unofficial A&Rs.
They knew what people wanted.
They knew which MCs were bubbling.
They knew which records were banging in the clubs.
And because people trusted particular DJs, their stamp of approval meant something.
If a DJ you respected was heavily pushing a new rapper, you paid attention.
That influence would become even more obvious with the next generation.
DJ Clue Changed the Game Again
Then came DJ Clue.
By the late 90s, Clue's name became impossible to ignore.
Those exclusives became part of his identity.
And his mixtape influence became so powerful that records carrying his tags could end up receiving radio play because stations wanted the music before clean, tag-free versions were available. His platform also helped introduce and develop artists including Fabolous.
Think about the power in that.
A mixtape DJ's voice stamped across a record being played on major radio.
That's the streets forcing their way into the mainstream.
And then something happened that showed just how far mixtape DJs had come.
They started releasing official albums.
From Mixtape DJ to Recording Artist
Clue's The Professional was a major moment.
Now the DJ wasn't operating purely in the unofficial mixtape world.
He could bring together major artists and release a commercial album under his own name.
That opened another door.
The mixtape DJ had become a legitimate recording artist, executive and brand.
And suddenly the thing that had been happening in shops, street corners and car stereos was influencing the mainstream music business.
That's hip hop all over.
Something starts underground.
The streets make it hot.
Then the industry comes looking.
Then Came Whoo Kid and 50 Cent
By the early 2000s, mixtape culture evolved again.
And DJ Whoo Kid became one of the biggest names in that next chapter.
His relationship with 50 Cent and G-Unit demonstrated just how powerful mixtapes could become as a marketing weapon.
Whoo Kid hosted 50 Cent's 50 Cent Is the Future, beginning a partnership that would extend through numerous 50 Cent and G-Unit projects, including the long-running G-Unit Radio series.
This was another level.
Mixtapes weren't simply helping break songs anymore.
They could help build entire movements.
50 and G-Unit understood that perfectly.
Jump on somebody else's beat.
Make it yours.
Respond to beef.
Drop new material.
Keep the streets fed.
Then do it again.
Why wait two years for another official album when you could keep giving your audience music?
That hunger suited mixtape culture perfectly.
Before Streaming, There Was the Tape Man
There's another part of this story that can't be recreated digitally.
Buying the actual tape.
The covers.
The photocopied artwork.
The tracklists.
The handwriting.
The cheap cases.
Side A.
Side B.
Sometimes questionable sound quality!
Cassette hiss.
Rewinding because you wanted to hear one verse again.
Fast-forwarding and trying to stop the tape at exactly the right point.
Sometimes you'd overshoot it.
Rewind again.
Too far.
Forward again.
Anybody from that generation knows exactly what I'm talking about.
Today that sounds inconvenient.
And it was!
But strangely, that inconvenience made us more connected to the music.
You'd invested something into finding it.
Four Random Tapes
That's why I keep coming back to that moment on Fordham Road.
Four random tapes.
That's all it was.
I didn't know I was making some profound decision about my future relationship with hip hop.
I was just buying music.
But those tapes introduced me to another layer of the culture.
That's the beauty of discovery.
Sometimes the records that stay with you longest aren't the ones somebody recommends.
They're the ones you find yourself.
What Streaming Gave Us – And What It Took Away
I'm not one of those people who thinks everything modern is bad.
Streaming is incredible.
I can think of almost any hip hop record right now and probably be listening to it within seconds.
That's something we could only dream about back then.
Young fans can discover Rakim, Big Daddy Kane, Kool G Rap, KRS-One, Nas, Biggie, Wu-Tang, Mobb Deep and thousands of underground records without leaving their bedroom.
That's dope.
But we've gained convenience at the expense of something else.
The hunt.
That feeling of walking into a shop and seeing hundreds of tapes.
Taking a chance.
Reading a tracklist.
Recognising a DJ's name.
Buying something because somebody behind the counter told you it was hard.
Getting home.
Putting it in.
And discovering an MC you'd never heard before.
You can't replicate that with "Recommended For You."
The Mixtape Was an Experience
That's ultimately what I want people to remember.
A great mixtape wasn't simply a playlist before playlists existed.
That's too simplistic.
A playlist gives you songs.
A great mixtape gave you an experience.
Selection.
Sequencing.
Scratching.
Blending.
Freestyles.
Exclusives.
Shout-outs.
Rewinds.
Drops.
Hosting.
Personality.
The DJ tied everything together.
That's why Ron G's voice mattered.
That's why Tony Touch putting all those MCs together mattered.
That's why Doo Wop's freestyles mattered.
That's why Clue's exclusives mattered.
That's why Whoo Kid's relationship with G-Unit mattered.
Different eras.
Different styles.
But the same basic principle:
The DJ was helping control the journey.
Rediscovering the Mixtape
When we talk about preserving hip hop history, we naturally talk about classic albums.
And we should.
But I think mixtapes deserve the same respect.
Some incredible hip hop performances never appeared on albums.
Some of the hardest freestyles of the era lived on tapes.
Some artists first started creating noise through mixtapes.
Some records became hot because DJs pushed them.
And some DJs became legends because thousands of hip hop heads trusted their ears.
That's culture.
And it deserves to be remembered.
🎧 Sherlock's Final Thoughts
When I think about my first visit to New York, I can still see that wide-eyed hip hop fan from London trying to take everything in.
The record shops.
The posters.
Hell on Earth.
Ironman.
Hard Core.
Pictures of rappers who had stood in the same shops I was now standing in.
Then heading to Fordham Road in the Bronx and staring at that huge selection of mixtapes.
I randomly chose four.
I couldn't have known what those tapes would eventually mean to me.
Ron G showed me that the DJ could add another whole layer to the music. His dope scratching, selection, blends and especially his hosting made the tape feel like a journey. The shout-outs, introductions and personality weren't interruptions.
They were part of the experience.
Tony Touch's Tape #50 gave me something else—the raw excitement of hearing spitter after spitter attacking classic beats.
Then I got deeper.
Doo Wop.
Clue.
Whoo Kid.
And more.
The mixtape became another part of my hip hop education.
And perhaps that's what I miss most about that era.
You never quite knew what you were about to hear.
A new MC could blow you away.
A freestyle could have you rewinding the tape five times.
A DJ could drop an exclusive you'd spend months trying to find again.
A banging remix might exist only on that particular tape.
And throughout everything, the DJ was there—talking to you, scratching, introducing records, shouting people out and taking you from one side of the cassette to the other.
It wasn't perfect.
Sometimes the sound quality was rough.
Sometimes the DJ talked too much.
Sometimes your box decided to eat the dam tape!I became a repair expert.
But that was all part of it.
Today, almost every record I could ever want is sitting a few taps away on my phone.
I love that convenience.
But would I trade the memory of walking down Fordham Road with those four random tapes in my hand for an algorithm telling me what to listen to next?
Not a chance.
Because I wasn't simply bringing four cassettes back to London.
I was bringing a little piece of New York hip hop culture home with me.
And all these years later, I can still hear it.
– DJ Sherlock Omz
Smiler - DJ Ron G - DJ Sherlock Omz (Brooklyn 2009)
