6. DJ SCREW

The late DJ Screw and his adopted city, where he died in November 2000, are so intertwined that today we don’t live in Houston; we dwell in “Screwston.” When summer starts to swelter, it’s not uncommon to hear folks wish each other “Happy June 27,” knowingly (or not) commemorating the night in 1996 that seven rappers showed up at Screw’s house to celebrate one of their birthdays and subtly,

slooooooowly, changed the sound of an entire region. Kris Kross’ “Da Streets Ain’t Right” supplied most of the beats, and Screw’s friends’ freestyling went on for more than half an hour, but that loping beat makes it feel like a lot longer. What happened that night was special, but only in hindsight. When Screw was alive, it happened all the time. This soft-spoken young man from Smithville was a ghetto entrepreneur who created hundreds of similar tapes, in pretty much the same circumstances. Gradually, the sound dripped out into Three 6 Mafia, Drake’s “November 18,” even the Oscarnominated “Moonlight” soundtrack. Today, it’s a cornerstone of modern hip-hop and Hous- ton’s sonic signature, an aural reflection of the treacherous codeine-derived cocktail that proved Screw’s undoing but secured his legacy.

Most Texas musical moment: 1996 album “3 ’N the Mornin’ ” — just to switch things up, a rare nonbootleg release.