[4] Outkast, ‘Ms Jackson’

Operating on some sort of mad, sickly, spandex level above conventional hip-hop, Outkast have the crossover appeal that hip-hop purists don’t want. At least Big Boi’s there to keep it real, but Andre 3000 is a space-age Prince even more indebted to the sleaze than his purple precedent. But then I’m not a hip-hop purist, so balls to it. And Big Boi can’t be keeping it THAT real, if he’s letting Soul Train glitter like this pass by under his nose.

The last thing you’d predict for this record is no reaction at all, but that’s what Junior gives it. She sits blankly staring at the stereo, not a twitch in her dancing feet. We found out later that she had a temperature, so well done, Dad, for trying to get her enthused about some shiny hipster-hop. I’m sorry, Miss Junior. Oooo.

I wonder if Erykah Badu’s mom took the apology with good grace. Somehow, all that appropriation of the wedding march makes ‘Ms Jackson’ seem a touch insincere. Glorious stuff, though, forever-evah.

[5] Manic Street Preachers, ‘So Why So Sad (Sean Penn Mix – Avalanches)

Is this really the done thing? Heroes of the year, The Avalanches took the Manics’ dreary and slightly odd Showaddywaddyesque plodder and kicked out the stinking chorus, droning Nicky Wire echoed vocal lines, misplaced moog and general sense of melodic dead-end – and replaced all the tired parts with Beach Boys glitter, sun-kissed Hawaiian keyboard strokes and chugging percussion, creating a dizzily gorgeous seaside twilight happy mix. Then they named it after Sean Penn. Pure crazed genius. It’s just a pity for the Preachers that these Aussie samplesmiths couldn’t be around every day. Pity for us too – think of the records we would have been spared.

Junior stood before me, wielding a plastic sword. That might have been how The Avalanches did it, come to think.

[6] Kylie Minogue, ‘Can’t Get You Out Of My Head’

Yes – shock and awe – the Greatest Pop Single of the Century is only the 2001 No.6. It’s a fine record, but it’s as if the critiscenti were simply waiting for a Kylie track to hang the accolade on. The pumped beats, hopping synths, “la la la”s, the non-singing, the ‘Love Action’ “wowowowow”s, they all add up to an addictive confection – it’s just I’d have liked a proper hook and a whiff of soul before propping it up as a paragon of the art. Even Paul Morley, in the Kylie shrine that is his essay Words And Music, is essentially hung up on the video, not the song.

So there you are. I’m a semi-believer.

But we don’t care what I think. Junior was entranced – although, like Morley, she wasn’t fussing about the song, more about the airbrushed loveliness of Kylie on the single sleeve. She wanted to hold it, and spent most of the playback opening the case and saying, “Where’s Kylie gone?” If X is anything to go by, she’s gone on to diminishing pop returns.

[7] Jay-Z ‘I Just Wanna Love U (Give It 2 Me)’

He was already well-enough-established by this point, largely thanks to forever soiling his legacy for a hit with the Little Orphan Annie-sponsored ‘Hard Knock Life’ back in 1998 – but now, right here, was where The Hov was riding highest: this hard-funk cut with ego on all cylinders, and The Blueprint album coming fast in the pipeline.

No diss-respect to Jay-Z’s laconic flow and easy rhyming, but the heavy lifting is handled by The Neptunes, and Pharrell Williams in particular. In 2001, before the horror of N*E*R*D’s second album, everything Williams touches is still turning gold and the descending, clipped riff and falsetto chorus are what makes ‘…Give It 2 Me’. So there.

Now, onto the Does Hip-Hop Have A Place At Glastonbury? debate…

Jokes. Junior took it easy, waiting for a good two or three minutes before clapping along to the springboard bass, bang on the rhythm. Come to think of it, I’m not sure she’s ever heard any of Noel Gallagher’s work – we can be pretty sure she won’t find much swing there.

[8] Destiny’s Child, ‘Bootylicious’

It’s all very well asking if the girls can “handle it”, but over the thrummy bass intro from ‘Eye Of The Tiger’? It’s a bloody tall order. Kelly, Michelle and Beyoncé prove themselves at least the equal of the punishing electro rhythm, however, and punctuate the beats with a few orgasmic “urgh”s to show that they’re light years beyond their pious beginnings by now. If they seemed a little naughty on ‘Jumpin’ Jumpin’’ – the other contender for Best Destiny’s Child Single – here, they’re letting the booty hang out. And it’s licious.

Junior didn’t seem all that bothered about the whole charade, until I noticed she was kicking her legs in time under the breakfast table. Beyoncé and co would never be that demure again.

As for whether B’s body was too bootylicious – well, there was one chap who could handle it. And, hark! Who’s that about to give it 2 us?

[9] Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, ‘Whatever Happened To My Rock ‘N’ Roll (Punk Song)’

Good start, cool name. Terrific single too (their third, or thereabouts), that suggested a searing balls-out rock pedigree, all full-throttle rhythm and piled-on guitars. I first heard about them when Charlatan Tim Burgess was bigging up this record on some radio show, and it could almost pass for one of his own – with Rob Levon Been’s sub-Jagger sneer a ringer for Burgess’s Manc-turned-Yank lip-curl – albeit a little more cranked-up than your standard Charlatans blues-pop.

It flattered to deceive. ‘Spread Your Love’, their next foray into the UK Top 30, sounded like ‘Spirit In The Sky’ and tepid albums gave way to a grasp at serious cred with third long-player Howl, an nth-generation tilt at rootsy blues. Who needs it?

The tidal wave of gee-tar prompted Junior to sling on the plastic Strat and rumble along with BRMC. Finding the jarring piano button on her axe, she was then moved to delve into the toy box for the pink keyboard, and the ensuing cacophony had Junior 2 looking aghast. Pure-spun rock’n’roll. It sounded like some godawful mash-up – appropriate in 2001, when the world and his wife were at it.

Reminds me – I must be the only man alive who doesn’t own 2 Many DJs’ As Heard On Radio Soulwax. Or, entirely unrelated, Röyksopp’s Melody A.M. Or Damien Rice’s O. Or Nevermind.

[10] Madonna, ‘What It Feels Like For A Girl’

In which musclebound Madge tries to convince us that she’s really a sensitive little flower at Kabbalah-coddled heart, all to a sympathetic and warmly electronic soundtrack from Mark “Spike” Stent and not the marvellous Mirwais who wove such wonder into the rest of the Music album. The girl speaking at the start is Charlotte Gainsbourg (in the film adaptation of Ian McEwan’s The Cement Garden), who went on to trump anything Madonna’s done this century with her own 5.55 album in 2006. She’s been too quiet since.

Unlikely as it seems, Madonna drives home the little-girl-lost shot with some distinction. Junior sulked because she wasn’t allowed to put the CD in the brand new stereo herself, and simply sat on her little chair, swinging her legs, no doubt wondering whether Dad would ever understand.

[11] Macy Gray featuring Erykah Badu, ‘Sweet Baby’

1999’s …On How Life Is was an astounding success, a must-have and a false dawn; the sort of shot in a million that gives Second Album Syndrome a feast to feed off. Macy was in no mood to let anyone down and steamed right in with The Id, a funk-led mess that put her up there with Terence Trent D’Arby in the “oops – there goes that advance” pantheon of sophomore flops. A distinction she didn’t share with TTD was the sad truth her album wasn’t all that great anyway – but ‘Sweet Baby’ is.

Cut from the classic soul pattern, this is lush, heartfelt, teasing and sincere. Junior locked into the gentle sway of the verse/chorus/verse before whipping out the plastic guitar with its searing choice of plastic riff buttons for the second chorus – just in time for the still-relaxed beat to kick in, and to match Chili Pepper John Frusciante lick for lick.

Erykah Badu’s role is to provide an improbable second Ella Fitzgerald via Walt Disney vocal to support Macy’s, erm, Ella Fitzgerald via Walt Disney lead. It’s an equally improbably gorgeous mix. In the second half, Badu keeps the song honest while Gray lets loose with her Id, and we all love her now and ever.

[12] Basement Jaxx, ‘Romeo’

A thoroughly appealing waft of nothing, featuring a pretty guest turn from whatever-happened-to Kele Le Roc. I like Basement Jaxx – they’re always fun, without ever being truly naff. Junior bopped about for the whole song, even trying to drag her four-month-old sister off the playmate to join in. That, like Kele’s career, was nipped in the bud.

[13] Roots Manuva, ‘Witness (1 Hope)’

And at unlucky number 13 we have the UK hip-hop industry. “Britain’s best rapper” – yes, sorry to break it to you, Dizzee Rascal, Lady Sovereign, Derek B, Daz Sampson, Simon Le Bon, Robbie Williams etc, but he just is – was born Rodney Smith; not as silly a name as his US equivalents Calvin and Tracy (here’s looking at you, Snoop and Ice-T), but certainly a moniker designed to undercut any gangsta pretensions. Luckily, Rodders is above all that, preferring hard-nosed social commentary, homegrown grooves, and salt of the earth shout-outs to “ten pints of bitter” and “cheese on toast”.

Junior and I do the giant stomp to the sinister beats, eerie harp samples and menacing yet tinny synths that sound like the march of the Federation soldiers in Blake’s 7. ‘Witness (1 Hope)’ is a chunky, phat-farming bounce.

The fact it reached No.45 on the singles chart shows how UK hip-hop bangs its head off a brick wall. The fact it took the sticky paw of novelty popsmith Calvin Harris to usher Dizzee Rascal to No.1 shows how UK hip-hop holds its hands up in surrender.