Memphis Bleak  Time was, great hip-hop was self-evident. With
few exceptions, the best rap albums of the '80s were also the
most widely celebrated, and everybody knew a classic when they
heard it. Then things got messy: The '90s saw the rise and fall
of a bitter bicoastal war, which gave way to an explosion of
regional styles. These days, you need an atlas to keep up:
Detroit succumbed to some well-known wiggers and a phenomenon
known as acid rap, Mannie Fresh and Master P took over New
Orleans with revamped electro beats, San Francisco embraced alt-
rap MCs and turntablists, Bone Thugs-N-Harmony put Cleveland on
the map by singing rap lyrics instead of speaking them. . . . On
it goes, a constantly shifting labyrinth of hometowns and
subgenres.  Perhaps no city has cultivated this aesthetic of
urban insularity more assiduously than Memphis, which has spent
the last decade nurturing a rap scene that few outsiders care
about at all. Except for pioneering duo Eightball & MJG, who
jumped ship to the Houston-based