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Ranting and Raving: "Rapper's Delight" by The Sugarhill Gang

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Recently, I started reading The Come Up: An Oral History of the Rise of Hip-Hop, a really great book by Jonathan Abrams that came out back in October last year. It’s a thorough work, taking its time to really cover the genre, from all its major landmarks (New York, Los Angeles, Philadelphia, the Midwest, etc.) and most of its major players are interviewed and represented in it. I really recommend it if you’re someone who doesn’t know a lot of the deep lore surrounding hip-hop’s history (like me) and you’re looking to learn more.

2023 marked the year of hip-hop’s fiftieth anniversary and it’s done a lot of well-earned celebrating throughout. There were tons of retrospectives done, the Grammys held a live concert to honor the occasion, and many Spotify playlists were made to help a new generation of hip-hop lovers go back and become immersed in the full history. It’s a good thing that the fiftieth anniversary had so much dedicated to it and people could enjoy looking back, because this year has been very strange for the genre in terms of mainstream Billboard chart success.

From August 2022 to August 2023, no rap song topped the Hot 100 chart, which hasn’t happened for twenty-three years. Rappers were still very much successful and there were still albums that hit the top of the album charts (Lil Uzi Vert’s Pink Tape, Travis Scott’s Utopia, Drake’s For All the Dogs topped it twice) but there was no single song that topped the Hot 100. That dry spell finally ended when Doja Cat managed to break the slump with “Paint the Town Red,” which became a number one hit back in September. In a year where Morgan Wallen and Taylor Swift reigned supreme with no end in sight (especially if you’re Taylor Swift), it was almost a good thing that hip-hop was able to focus on looking back and enjoying how far it's come and celebrate all that the genre has achieved in such a short time.

Anyway, as I was reading the first chapters of The Come Up, which focus on hip-hop’s birth in the Bronx and how it grew out of New York and out of the block parties DJ Kool Herc was throwing in 1973, I was captivated. As I kept going though, there was one thing I kept wondering about.

When do the Sugarhill Gang enter into the story?

When I was young, I had always been under the impression that the Sugarhill Gang were among the first rap pioneers, more or less believing they were the first MCs to spit into the mic and bring hip-hop into the world. They... kinda did, but also not really. They were responsible for playing a major part in the genre becoming the cultural juggernaut we recognize it as today, but as for pioneers? Your mileage will vary on that and I hope that’ll become clear soon as we start discussing them.

Now, I want it to be known that being a white guy from Bumfuck Nowhere, Pennsylvania, my hip-hop history knowledge has always had giant gaps in it that I’ve only been starting to fill up in recent years. I imagine for many others like myself, they’re only just now really learning the history of hip-hop’s birth in the Bronx and what the first MCs unleashed. If you’re not much of a reader, Netflix’s Hip-Hop Evolution is a really great series that covers a ton of that early history. Charlie Ahern’s 1982 film Wild Style also serves as a historical time capsule of that history as it was being written. The Sugarhill Gang get discussed in Hip-Hop Evolution’s second episode, but they’re nowhere to be found in Wild Style.

So, as I was learning about hip-hop and rap’s origins in New York, eventually the Sugarhill Gang did make an appearance. What I ended up learning gave me an entirely new fascination with a song that up until recently I had just found enjoyable and didn’t think too much of. “Rapper’s Delight” is such a fascinating song. Let me count the ways. Why don’t we start with who the Sugarhill Gang are?

The story of the Sugarhill Gang begins with a woman named Sylvia Robinson, often dubbed the “Mother of Hip-Hop.” A shrewd businesswoman, she was the head of All Platinum Records, a label that started in and ran through the seventies (Sugarhill Records, where “Rapper’s Delight” was released, was a subsidiary of All Platinum and formed in order to focus on the emerging rap scene). Robinson was also a musician herself, being one half of the guitar duo Mickey and Sylvia, scoring a hit in 1956 with “Love is Strange” (a song you definitely know if you’ve seen Dirty Dancing). Sylvia herself also had a hit in 1973 with the song “Pillow Talk.” Robinson has lived a life that goes beyond the scope of our subject today, so we’ll stick with knowing her as a businesswoman. If you want to learn more about Robinson’s story, this Billboard piece on her from 2019 is a good place to start.

In 1979, All Platinum was facing bankruptcy and was in desperate need of a smash hit in order to save it. Robinson had agreed to attend a party at Harlem World, a popular disco club in the late seventies and early eighties at 116th & Lenox Ave, in Harlem. Abrams tells the story of how Robinson first discovered the music that could save her label in The Come Up:

“Robinson witnessed Lovebug Starski work the turntables and the crowd into a frenzy with his call-and-responses. Robinson wanted to capture the music and release it commercially. When Lovebug Starski declined the arrangement, Robinson went on a hunt for other artists.”

Robinson’s search for talent, led by her son Joey Robinson, Jr., took them to a pizza parlor in New Jersey. It still exists today. It’s Crispy Crust Pizza in Englewood, NJ (the surviving members of the Gang are interviewed there in Netflix’s Hip-Hop Evolution). The story goes like this:

The Sugarhill Gang are made up of three guys: Michael Wright (“Wonder Mike”), Henry Jackson (*Big Bank Hank”), and Guy O’ Brien (“Master Gee”). Robinson only came to hear Big Bank spit, but Wonder Mike and Master Gee also auditioned for her. Unable to make a decision on which one to go with, she ultimately decided to say “fuck it!” and made them a trio.

It’s the best decision she could’ve made.

They auditioned on a Friday night and by Monday they were in the studio cutting the track. The three guys just kept passing the mic to one another and eventually the full song wound up being fifteen minutes long.

We’ll get into the rhymes a bit later, but now that we’re familiar with the gang, we should cover what “Rapper’s Delight” ended up being the first of. Hip-hop may have already existed in the Bronx and New York scene for about six years before the gang came along and scored a bonafide hit, but the song does have legitimate cred. It’s the first rap song that made it onto the Billboard Hot 100 and the first rap song to break into the Top 40. It paved the way for Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five to get onto Billboard with 1982’s “The Message” (peaked at #62) and led to eventual chart dominators like Run-DMC and the Beastie Boys, which would start sprouting up a few years after the Gang made their mark. The Sugarhill Gang are also some of the first rappers to film an official music video (which is linked above at the top) and be seen performing on pre-MTV television (there are so many videos out there of them performing this on TV shows. It’s nuts).

Listening to it, it’s not hard to understand why this song still gets written into the history books. First, this shit holds the fuck up. Second, it’s probably the easiest example to use if the aliens ever visit and Captain Cleevmorp asks, “W h a t i s t h i s t h i n g y o u c a l l . . . ‘r a p m u s i c’?” It’s ripping off a disco song that was barely three months old at the time (“Good Times” was released June 4th, 1979, “Rapper’s Delight” appeared September 16th, 1979) but at its core, it’s a rap song and nobody could mistake it for anything else. Did I mention this is ripping off a disco song that was barely three months old at the time? I feel like that’s an important part of the story.

Do you like “Good Times” by Chic? If you do, then hoo boy, do I have the song for you! I don’t think I’m blowing any minds here when I say that musically, “Rapper’s Delight” is quite literally just three guys rapping over an instrumental version of “Good Times” by Chic. I feel the need to stress that it is NOT a sample of “Good Times,” though you would be forgiven for thinking it is. “Rapper’s Delight” came out during a time when the technology for rap sampling and looping didn’t exist yet, so the production team behind “Rapper’s Delight” had to bring in session guys to recreate the song from scratch. They did such a good job recreating it, Nile Rodgers (guitarist) and Bernard Edwards (bassist) from Chic threatened to sue them. They eventually settled out of court, getting co-writing credits on the song and, according to the Library of Congress, “a substantial undisclosed amount of money made off of album sales and performances.”

Chic won, but Curtis Brown, better known as New York rapper Grandmaster Caz, didn’t. Now might be a good time to start talking about the lyrics to the song.

For brevity’s sake, we will not be going over all fifteen minutes of this thing (I’ve never made it through the entire song. It just goes on-and-and-on-and-on-on-and-on). Rather, we’re going to focus on most single/video versions of the song and just cover the most important parts.

Wonder Mike is the first one up. Equipped with a friendly voice and a smooth delivery, he spits some of the most important opening lines in rap history.

I said a hip hop, the hippie, the hippie The hip hip hop and you don't stop the rockin' To the bang-bang, boogie, say up jump the boogie To the rhythm of the boogie, the beat

According to Mike in Hip Hop Evolution, these are the lines he used when auditioning with Sylvia Robinson. Those four lines alone tell you everything you need to know about rap flow and delivery. It’s obviously very primitive compared to what MCs are doing now (and even what MCs were doing when this song got big) but to an unsuspecting audience outside of New York that had no idea what the hell rap was at all, those lines are an immediate attention grabber. I’ve always adored the line that comes after those initial four: “Now, what you hear is not a test I'm rappin' to the beat.” It’s a great way to present something strange and new to an audience without alienating them or scaring them away. People in 1979 had long known about disco and would’ve recognized the music immediately, but the rapping part was a new ballgame and Mike’s delivery in the opening verse lays down the framework for the rest of the song. At its core, “Rapper’s Delight” is a laid back and fun party anthem and he immediately sets that tone with his opening verse. He’s a good straight man compared to the goofy braggadocio that starts immediately once he passes it to Big Bank Hank.

If “Rapper’s Delight” is beloved, it’s because Big Bank comes in and just kills it from the moment he steps up to the mic. The man just sells it and then some. He’s got great flow, a fun loving attitude, tons of style, and a goofy but confident swagger completely on lock. Depending on the version you’re listening to, he’s going for almost two minutes straight with barely any breaks. For one of the first rap songs ever put to vinyl, it’s an impressive feat. He’s got a lot of really great rhymes too.

It’s just a shame he didn’t write a lot of them...

Remember when I said Chic won their lawsuit threat but Grandmaster Caz didn’t end up being so lucky? That’s because a good chunk of the rhymes Big Bank is using are actually Caz’s and it wasn’t a secret to the New York rappers hearing it at the time.

One dead giveaway is in this line: “The women fight for my delight / But I'm the grandmaster with the three MCs.” Three MCs, huh? But there’s only three of you. There would have to be four of you in order for that line to work. It worked when Caz said that as part of the group Cold Crush Brothers, because there were four of them. Another Caz line is near the beginning of Big Bank’s first verse: “Check it out, I'm the C-A-S-A-N, the O-V-A / And the rest is F-L-Y.” “Casanova” was a nickname of Caz’s. Caz reveals more stolen rhymes and where Big Bank got them from when interviewed for The Come Up:

“Sometimes I’ve been misquoted, and then sometimes I’ve made the mistake of saying I wrote all of Big Bank Hank’s lines for ‘Rapper’s Delight.’ What I meant is his verses. I meant his rhymes. But the little bridges, the hook, that’s DJ Hollywood. That, ‘Imp the Dimp, the ladies’ pimp. The women fight for my . . ., that’s Rahiem from Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. Those two things, I didn’t write, but the full rhymes he says, ‘I’m the C-A-S-AN, the O-V-A from the time I was only six years old’ and then the Superman and Lois Lane, I wrote all of that.”

Whether Big Bank got to see a book of Caz’s rhymes and learn them from reading that is up for debate. Caz claims in both The Come Up and Hip-Hop Evolution that Hank didn’t have to study. He knew them all just from knowing Caz and being around him. If you want to hear Caz get bitter about it (which he has every right to be) he addressed this issue of plagiarism in 2000 with the song “MC Delight” (“the cat who bit this rhyme was my manager, pure treason I'll tell you why...”).

It does take the wind out of the sails a bit when you learn Big Bank cribbed from other rappers for “Rapper’s Delight,” because he’s a very fun and energetic performer with a great voice and great flow, but once you learn the rhymes were stolen from guys who would never get any of the glory of “the first rap hit,” you start to feel bad and look at Big Bank as nothing more than a thief. It blows. New York DJ Grandmixer DXT voices the backlash and problematic nature of getting caught ripping somebody else off in Hip-Hop Evolution:

"Hank was saying a rhyme that we was hearing at the parties already, and he's saying somebody else's rhyme. And for us, that's a catastrophic no-no. There were people who would get beat up for saying somebody's rhyme. And here's a record where this guy bites and actually records it. Like, that was just the worst thing ever."

It goes without saying that the biggest problem with Hank ripping off rap’s founding fathers in the Bronx is that the Sugarhill Gang gets credit for being the first rap stars when one of them is pretty shamelessly ripping off lines from every rapper he heard in New York. There’s no evidence that everything in Hank’s verses are ripped off from somewhere, but there’s evidence of plagiarism all the same. Luckily, Master Gee and Wonder Mike’s parts are both authentic as well as fully written by them. Which is good because once Gee takes over from Big Bank, he takes a little time to get going, but eventually starts feeling himself and really starts delivering some Grade-A stuff. Most of his lines are either about bragging about his status as a ladies man, observations about the listener dancing to the music, and how he’s the youngest member of the three, but can still keep up with the best of them. I do like that his first brag is how he goes by the “unforgettable name” of Master Gee. Personally, I actually think all three of their names are pretty dumb and lame as far as rap names go, but they’re among some of the first rappers so it’s not like they had any way to avoid that.

Master Gee’s most impressive moment is this verse right here, written out in full:

I got a little face and a pair of brown eyes All I'm here to do, ladies, is hypnotize Singin' on-and-and-on-and-on-on-and-on The beat don't stop until the break of dawn Singin' on-and-and-on-and-on-on-and-on Like a hot buttered pop-da-pop-da-pop, dibbie dibbie Pop-da-pop-pop, you don't dare stop Come alive, y'all, gimme whatcha got

It’s stuff that’s downright corny by today’s standards, but Gee’s ability to spit all that without getting tongue-tied is more than I can say for myself. He’s got really great control; all three of them do. Mike, Big Bank, and Gee each deliver their parts like a never-ending party and when you listen to the full version of the song (that fifteen minute monster!) it has the feel of a party where you and your friends are just shooting the shit and passing around a blunt or something to each other. The three of them all seem like friends that are collectively goofballs just having a good time, which is one reason why I think the song has enjoyed the long life it’s had.

I also think the reason this song has lived so long is because white people LOVE this song. Of course they do! It’s a pretty sanitized version of the kind of music that was being made in New York at the time. There’s no message to it, no commentary about social issues, or even using old records in a creative way like the DJs of the day had been doing. Everything about this song was specifically engineered to be commercially viable, right down to completely ripping off a song that had already been a hit less than four months beforehand.

A mainstream audience (read: white) was absolutely slammed with pretty much nothing but disco for most of 1977, all of 1978, and most of 1979 before a bunch of people finally snapped and held a massive bonfire in Chicago about it. “Good Times” was something they already knew and something disco lovers still enjoyed, so you could ease them into this strange new thing called “rappin’ to the beat” and they would understand it without being confused. To most, it was probably just a different style of disco song at the time. It wouldn’t be until the mid-eighties when people would start to begin to understand a better definition for what rap is.

Obviously, the song has a wide appeal and white people really enjoying it isn’t the only reason, but that definitely plays a major factor. You’re looking at the song that inadvertently launched a thousand novelty rap songs in the eighties, all featuring white guys who should’ve never been allowed to be anywhere near a rap song. Rodney Dangerfield with “Rappin’ Rodney,” the Beach Boys with the Fat Boys on “Wipeout,” Joe Piscopo doing “Honeymooners Rap” with Eddie Murphy, and, lest we forget "The Super Bowl Shuffle" by The Chicago Bears Shufflin' Crew. What I’m trying to get at is this: The Sugarhill Gang made it so that if they, three dorks from New Jersey working in a pizza parlor, can rap, you probably can figure it out too. Adding to the “White People Have Propped This Song Up as a Monument” theory is how many things have referenced this song over the years. Here’s a Homer Simpson toy that raps the song and dances to it. The grandmother from The Wedding Singer famously does it (also adding to the “elderly women rapping” trope). Jimmy Fallon once had somebody cut and splice NBC anchors Brian Williams and Lester Holt rapping the song. Kid Rock’s breakout 1999 hit “Bawitdaba” references the song in its chorus (“Bawitdaba, da bang, da dang diggy diggy / Diggy, said the boogie, said up jump the boogie”). And there’s of course the famous 2002 Las Ketchup song “Asereje,” though you probably know it better as “The Ketchup Song,” which is about someone who goes to the club and asks the DJ to play "Rapper's Delight" and sings along in gibberish because he doesn't know the English lyrics. The point is that this song has been propped up by a lot of people who should NOT be considered rappers (yes, that includes Kid Rock).

I think the first time I ever started to have suspicions that the song wasn’t universally adored was when I watched In Living Color for the first time. There’s a sketch in the first season where Keenan Ivory Wayans plays Jesse Jackson and goes for the joke that everyone used to make about him: That he speaks in rhymes, almost like he’s a real life version of Gruntilda the witch from Banjo-Kazooie. Anyway, there’s a sketch where Jackson is giving his final State of the Union address (in the world of this sketch, he beat George H. W. Bush in ‘92 and has been president for eight years) and gives his address in the most basic AA BB CC rhyme scheme that wouldn’t look out of place in a children’s book. After a few of them, Wayans-as-Jackson breaks and quickly says: “Hip hop, you don't stop the rockin' / To the bang-bang, boogie, the beat,” which I took to be an insult that the rhymes in that song were just as basic as anything Jackson had ever said. The idea that “Rapper’s Delight” was wack was something I think I had already known in the back of my head but didn’t want to say because I thought that would just make me sound like a guy who hates fun. But, upon reading and hearing testimonies from the founding fathers of rap in New York, I realized that the big sin of “Rapper’s Delight” wasn’t that it was wack...

Its biggest sin was that it was made by a bunch of posers.

Sylvia Robinson didn’t know anything about the hip-hop and rap scene developing in New York, but she knew it was something that could be monetized if it was done and presented in the right way. Wonder Mike and Master Gee weren’t real rappers with any credibility, they were just guys working in a pizza parlor in New Jersey who were given the opportunity of a lifetime. Big Bank was the only one who could lay claim to having connections in the Bronx. He grew up there, worked the doors at famous Bronx nightclub The Sparkle, and also served as a manager for Grandmaster Caz (whom he would later rip off). “Rapper’s Delight” wasn’t made by starving artists who were pivotal to creating a new scene, it was made by a bunch of posers who had everything to gain from it. New York rappers interviewed in The Come Up knew this and were justifiably pissed about the song. The only testimony that was kind to them came from Kool Moe Dee, who understood the backlash as well as the song being embraced by white America.

“I understood why there was a lot of MCs at the time that didn’t like it, because I just think the social construct of oppression puts us against each other in many ways. In my opinion, many African Americans have a hard time giving other African Americans credit for achieving because so much of white America accepted that record and they started to define it from their perspective. And we’re saying we’ve already been here; it’s not new. So a backlash was on Sugar Hill that wasn’t deserved because they didn’t ask for it. ... So it was never not really hip-hop. We just had gotten more lyrically sophisticated at that time and the record was a great record. And looking back, if it wasn’t for Sugar Hill, we might not have an industry as prominent as we have because of the success of ‘Rapper’s Delight.’”

Kool Moe is right. It wasn’t their fault that “Rapper’s Delight” took off the way it did. Robinson was cashing in on what she saw as “the new thing” and wanted in. The song taking off the way it did happened the way a lot of hits happen: it was the right song with the right artists at the right place at the right time. “Rapper’s Delight” has stuck around the way it has because it captures a beautiful moment where music history is at a crossroads. The golden age of disco is going to be gone when the ball drops on January 1st, 1980, but rap music is only just getting started and by the end of the eighties it will begin its big mainstream explosion and keep going from there.

“Rapper’s Delight” captures rap in its beautiful infancy. What it lacks in authenticity, it makes up for by being representative of what was going on at the time. It’s a time capsule. No matter which version of this song you choose, it sounds like a never ending party that everyone is invited to and a party where everyone is your friend. It’s fun, it’s infectious, and the three hosts are entertaining as hell as they pass the mic back and forth and keep the party going. Mike, Hank, and Gee created a fun rap song for beginners: it’s a very easy song to understand sonically and it’s an easy song to learn how to rap along to. The rhymes aren’t super complicated and the most you’d have to learn and work out is how to get the flow right and how to not trip over the words. If you can master Wonder Mike’s opening lines (if a Homer Simpson toy can do it, so can you!) the rest comes easy. Learning Big Bank and Master Gee’s parts aren’t complicated either and it becomes fun to recite along with them once you start getting it down. The beat of “Good Times” is very easy to keep up with and follow so that helps it as an excellent beginner song. Despite the criticisms against it, “Rapper’s Delight” still stands as a fantastic party song and it’s not hard to see why people still enjoy getting down to it even now. If you play it at the right party, you’ll hear a whole room recite the lyrics and just have fun with it. Hip-hop and Rap started life as block parties DJ Kool Herc was throwing in ‘73 and the Sugarhill Gang continued that tradition by capturing that party on vinyl. The rap world has changed in many ways since the Gang started rappin’ to the beat, but it keeps its status as a legendary rap song because it’s the party rap song that all party rap songs aspire to. Forget authenticity and leave your notions about “what rap really is about” at the door and just let loose. With the Sugarhill Gang, the party goes on-and-and-on-and-on-and-on

And the beat don't stop until the break of dawn.

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