Harold Stallworth saw it like Dionne Warwick.
Spring is the season of jiggy, the sweet polygamy of wind chimes, wave-kits, oversized blazers and ‘80s R&B. In the late ‘90s, the conventional wisdom was that rappers were to never go full-on, unapologetically jiggy. Even the jiggiest acts of the shiny suit era, the Will Smiths and the Puff Daddies and the Harlem Worlds, occasionally tried their hands at aggression and introspection. When sandwiched between a song featuring DMX and a song featuring Maya Angelou, jiggy is jarring—but as a singular sound and quasi-sub genre, it has its merits, to be sure. It’s a tragedy that we never got a purely jiggy full-length album. This seasonal mix, curated by my alter-ego, DJ Jiggy Azalea, does its best to approximate such an album.