10 Rock/Hip-Hop Collaborations We’d Co-Sign

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Perhaps no artist better epitomized the swagger of rock'n'roll excess in all its glory than Iggy Pop, the decadent indulger who risked it all to entertain, and possibly, to pursue oblivion. Today's rock stars—in the literal sense that they make rock'n'roll—follow his spirit, but often fail to live up to the extreme to which he was willing to push himself. Today's real rock stars—those who've attained a similar godlike quality in the world of popular music—use very different strategies. Rihanna is an artist of poise, one whose indifference to your unworthy struggles accentuates her own accrued power. Yet she embodies a similarly oppositional archetype, in its largest, most effective, most fully realized form. It's not just that she's the Iggy Pop of her time, but that Iggy is the Rihanna of his own.

The 1975 are masters of the ’80s pop-rock record: A little new wave, a lot English, the group harken back to the specific sounds of that era that haven't been all that celebrated in recent years—at least, not with that level of songwriting attached. That's the thing about the band: They can write great records at a time when most artists rely on empty vamping. Puffy is a master of the pop music form, and no era did he love more than the 1980s. It was a time when he was running around sneaking into New York nightclubs, and you can hear it in all of his records of the late 1990s, when club hits like "The Message," "Square Biz," and "I'm Coming Out" formed the basis for his own art and those of his artists: "Take hits from the ’80s and make 'em sound so crazy." Who better to collaborate with Puff for the next generation?

Before The Who became ’70s arena stars—pre Tommy-era—they did a sly record called The Who Sell Out, and thanks in part to the funky rhythmic adventurousness of their (tragically deceased) drummer Keith Moon, it was one of the most singular rock records of the late ’60s. It was also very funny, in a way that directly predicted a hip-hop future in which groups like the Beastie Boys and De La Soul would utilize a kitchen sink's worth of samples and skits to poke fun at both themselves and the world around them. No group did humorous self-awareness as well as De La, and that's why De La Who Sell Out would make for a classic record.

Few rock bands really understand the essential properties of groove and funk enough to work with a rapper; rappers rely on that friction between the beat and the bars to keep things interesting. Rock bands, though, often chase texture and riffs at the sake of rhythm. This isn't the case for rock legends ZZ Top, whose chunky rock grooves "Well Dressed Man" and "I Gotsta Get Paid" (is there a more hip-hop song title than that) seem like a perfect match for B-Real and Sen Dog's distinctive cadences. Cypress Hill have long had their own rock/rap projects, and even sampled Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young (on 2010's "Armada Latina”), so classic rock is no stranger either. Time to make this one a reality.

Meek Mill, you may have heard, likes to shout. Ditto System of a Down lead singer Serj Tankian, who on the group's mega-smash "Chop Suey!” shredded his vocals in a rapid-fire hammering of syllables that negotiates the overlap between technique and the expression of an emotion in a way that complements Meek Mill's own approach quite nicely. Meek would also grant a real-world dimension and gravitas to the group, transforming what had been an oblique canvas on which to project one's own emotional reality into something a little bit larger than the self.

Ann and Nancy Wilson of Heart were trailblazers, and also great artists; early record Dreamboat Annie had some folk-rock classics with "Magic Man," "Crazy On You," and "Barracuda," much as Nicki's Beam Me Up Scotty articulated the sound of its era through hip-hop. As the 1980s came, Nancy and Ann rode out a slight slump early in the decade, before executing a fully fledged comeback with records like 1985's "What About Love," massive pop-rock smashes that showed a willingness to embrace a current sound whatever the backlash. Obviously, Nicki is more central to the sound of her genre than Heart were to theirs. Nonetheless, the group's muscular approach does feel like a complement to Nicki's, both of whom challenged a male-dominated industry at a time when their genres were contracting in the pop sphere.

Back in the early ’00s, Andre 3000 revealed he'd been listening more to the Smiths than hip-hop, and OutKast promptly imploded. We can blame Morrissey, the Smiths' singer-songwriter, but it makes more sense to point the finger at Andre himself for learning the wrong lessons from the band. Sure, it may have resulted in "Hey Ya," but there's one rapper who better understood what makes the Smiths tick. That person is Drake, whose similarly solipsistic, mopey approach transcends through a gift for melody and songwriting. But what he really captures more than any other quality is a self-aware sense of his own persona. The Smiths are rarely credited for this quality, but the group could be very funny, very in-on-the-joke with records like "Girlfriend in a Coma." ("I know, I know, it's serious…") If Drake remixed that record in 2015, he'd propel Morrissey to Fetty Wap levels.

Jethro Tull was a band that embraced flute solos; Lupe is a rapper who writes metaphors so deep you could drop a penny in them and won't hear it hit the bottom. What better way to hear a rapper explore the logical endpoint of his writerly impulses than with a group who also explores the limitations of progressive rock. Aqualung, the group's most celebrated record, also shares a similar mentality with Lupe, who remains a fierce, strident critic of systems and oppression. Ian Anderson, Jethro Tull's frontman and flutist, spent much of the album tackling the ways in which organized religion had interfered with his relationship with God.

One of these stars is a gender-bending experimentalist who sounds comfortable over a diverse range of sounds and styles, and the other is...wait, they both do this. Enigmatic, eccentric personalities, experimentalists with a sixth sense for pop, true heroes of their genre, Young Thug and David Bowie aren't just a good match, they're kindred spirits whose similarities transcend genre, and space, and time. It wouldn't even be that much of a reach, all Thug has to do is cover Puff Daddy's "Been Around the World" and he's already halfway there. That song liberally sampled Bowie's "Let's Dance" nearly two decades ago. 

Thin and Shy are both adjectives, and "Lizzy" sounds like "Glizzy." Just from a branding synergy perspective, this makes a lot of sense. Musically, it's a bit more of a reach, but when you find something that works, everything else can be made to match. Also, basically any rapper could cover "The Boys are Back In Town" and come out sounding strong.