In his book of essays on pop nostalgia, "Retromania," music critic Simon Reynolds writes of how we "privilege the emergent phase of a genre . . . rather than those who come later and carried on their work; the latter are settlers, not pioneers . . . but I really think you can hear the difference. In some near mystical way, the spirit of the age permeates the music."

Anyone who watches "Wild Style" will be inclined to agree. This micro-budget project, shot on the streets (and elevated train tracks) of New York City in 1981-82, captures the birth of rap and hip-hop culture, and the energy on display is palpable — it's that gleam in the eyes of someone who knows they're riding a wave of fresh, vital energy. This was a point in time when the scene was still so underground that an uptown white liberal could ask with a straight face about "that rat music."

From its opening scenes, "Wild Style" captures a scruffier NYC in a lost age before Mayor Rudy Giuliani, with three-card Monte scammers in Times Square, trains covered in elaborate graffiti, and the Bronx looking like a war zone. Sartorially, this was before the commodification of hip-hop: before XXL sizes, athletic wear and the global spread of MTV. It's a surprise to see all the denizens of this nascent scene dressed as fairly typical late '70s youths, randomly attired in Levi's, plaid shirts and even crewneck sweaters, with the emcees looking more like back-up singers for a funk outfit.