For me, high school in Manhattan the late ’90s was all about one thing—the Fugees. My friends and I would swagger around the hall clutching our copy of The Score, sporadically belting out lyrics like “How many mics do we rip on the daily?” In college, it was all about Wyclef Jean’s second album, The Ecleftic: 2 Sides II a Book. He’d left the hip-hop trio a few years before and went out on his own—and you couldn’t shotgun a beer without hearing the ska-inflected beat of “It Doesn’t Matter” or walk into a party without mouthing along to “Perfect Gentleman” and its insanely catchy chorus (“Just ’cuz she dances go-go/It don’t make her a ho, no.”)
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