In the soundtrack to the movie of my life, the college years, Jeru the Damaja’s The Sun Rises in the East would undoubtedly make the cut. For the start of my freshman year, this CD (remember those?) was in constant rotation swallowing my closet-sized dorm room whole with unadulterated, gritty New York hip-hop. It was just what the doctor ordered for a home sick, shy freshman from New York who spent much of her first month at school in her room blasting music to the dismay of my hall roomies who gravitated more towards the local DC sound of Go-Go music.

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