These three CDs, assembled and annotated by pioneering rapper Kurtis Blow, attempt, with varying degrees of success, to provide a history of rap music from its origins in the early '70s through the end of the '80s. It's a tall order, but the project benefits from the guiding hand of someone who was there. Blow started out as a fan of the DJs whose turntable manipulations gave the first hints that a new musical form could be made from the leftovers of others. Some of the key tracks from this era (a remix of James Brown's "Give It Up Or Turn It Loose," The Isley Brothers' "Get Into Something") make up the bulk of the first volume. The songs still sound loose and funky, and some of the beats will sound familiar because of later use. The problem is that music is only half the story, and the exclusion of '70s wordsmiths such as Gil-Scott Heron and Last Poets—or at least an example of a club DJ in action—leaves out the vital other half. Volume one concludes with what is generally considered the first rap song, "King Tim III" by Fatback, and after that point this oversight doesn't really matter. Volume two covers the period during which Blow himself achieved fame, and includes at least one track from each of the fabled early masters (Sugarhill Gang, Afrika Bambaataa, The Treacherous Three, etc.). By rounding up these much-discussed but now little-heard tracks, the second disc is probably the strongest historically. It's fascinating to hear, with the exception of Grand Master Flash And The Furious 5's "The Message," how frivolous and high-spirited most of the lyrical content sounds. The era of rap as good-times music, and the career of Blow himself, had pretty much passed by the appearance of Run DMC, whose "Rock Box" kicks off The Golden Age. Though this third volume probably contains the greatest number of hits, it's also the most problematic. No one-disc survey of the many varieties of mid- to late-'80s rap music could really do it justice. This one at least hits many of the high points (Whodini, Public Enemy, Boogie Down Productions), but another disc could easily be filled with the conspicuously absent (Eric B & Rakim, EPMD, Slick Rick, De La Soul, any number of early West Coast gangsta rappers). And, as endearing a figure as he is, does Biz Markie really warrant two songs? Still, there are many great cuts on all three collections, and the liner notes by Blow—who now hosts an old-school hip-hop show on the West Coast—are entertaining and informative. As a bargain-priced introductory survey, a sort of "Rap 101," it's pretty damn good. The whole project could probably have benefited from a more full-scale treatment (a la Rhino's Super Hits Of The '70s or D.I.Y. projects), but Blow hints at future volumes. If they're as solidly entertaining and enlightening as these, that will be cause for celebration.