The most formative musical memory of my youth occurred 30,000 feet over central California in the summer of 1989. I was almost 17, flying on a school trip from LA to the Bay Area, and popped into my Walkman was an album I had just picked up from my local record store, Moby Disc: De La Soul's 3 Feet High and Rising. When the cassette reached "Eye Know," about midway through Side A, I sat transfixed in my seat. I had never heard anything like this before: an earnest rap song about love that wasn't a sappy radio ballad (no offense, LL Cool J), set to a delicious groove that merged '60s soul and '70s art pop. Part of me wanted to take my headphones off and share the song with one of my classmates but the part that was selfish won out. When the track ended, I rewound and played it again. And again. And again. "Eye Know" wasn't the first rap song I ever heard but it was the first that sparked an interest to explore the music and culture behind it. As with many others who discovered hip-hop in that same era, that private epiphany changed my life's trajectory.

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