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Noisey

Oh Nelly: I … Love You

The rapper's impact has seemingly been written out of wider cultural history. Let's fix that.

From time to time a broadcaster like Channel 4 or a rockist magazine such as Rolling Stone puts the weight of recorded music history on their shoulders and attempts to define the greatest songwriters of a generation. Usually, the results are predictable: a Brian Wilson here, a Smokey Robinson there, the guy who wrote the Toy Story soundtrack, whoever waltzed out of the coffee-house culture of the 1960s and someone who wrote a really good album about romance-fuelled drug addiction.

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Like dinosaur bones or the rainforest, it's important to preserve the work of these lionised musicians. That's what the lists are for. But inasmuch as these coffee-table directories can introduce future generations to Joni Mitchell or one of the greatest love songs in history ("Pale Blue Eyes"), it's essential we address the fact they're all missing one important component. And what's that, I hear you cry? His real name is Cornell Iral Haynes, Jr – which, according to iconic law, already puts him ten steps ahead of you and I – but you'll probably know him by his stage name.

*extremely ad-lib voice*

"Uh."

"Check it."

I'm talking about Nelly.

Nelly, perhaps the most famous wearer of Band-Aids in our earthly narrative, has yet to be included in any rundown of great American songwriters. Does he deserve to be? Arguably not. Does it make me sad he isn't? If it were possible to crawl down my throat, past the solar plexus and into my core, that's how deep the response to this question is buried (yes, obviously it makes me sad; what about you too, boo?).

You see, Nelly has never been given the praise he deserves for being the face of some of the most recognisable hits of the 2000s. These songs may not be in any way comparable to, say, the collected work of Leonard Cohen (because that would be fucking stupid, wouldn't it?), but they do have the staying power of a footless horse. Like: How many Nelly songs do you know the words to? Swim deep into the mind – fumble around a little bit – and tell me what you find. Is it "My Place"? How about "Hot in Herre"? Do "Grillz", "Ride Wit Me", "EI" or "Over and Over" feature? How about the irrepressible, "OK ma, what's your preference / nice and slow or fast and reckless?" guest verse he pulled on "Nasty Girl"? Woooooo! Embrace it. Welcome home, ladies and gentleman. Now come on inside so I can talk at you some more about St Louis' finest.

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