There's sweet irony in this 20th Anniversary Edition of Paul's Boutique. This was the album that was pronounced stillborn on its release, the one that supposedly proved hip hop's faddishness as the New York trio crashed from the most successful album (Licensed to Ill was quadruple platinum within a year of release) of the genre's infancy to what must have seemed at the time like the least. In 1989, hip hop stoked revolution, talked Afrocentric and waved its guns at almost anyone who argued (Jesus and the nuns had to wait another year or for Back to the Grill Again and Live at the Barbeque).

It was a world in which three wealthy white Jewish kids seemed to have no place. Worse, the album's thunder was stolen by De La Soul, whose sample-heavy audio collage 3 Feet High and Rising predated it by a few months, delivering many of the same ideas, but in a more immediate, radio-friendly manner. If De La were inspired by a lifetime's memory of TV, the Beasties celebrated junk-shopping, creating a dense tribute to the Lower East Side of the Manhattan home they'd recently left, with the fictional emporium (actually a clothes shop) symbolising the jumble of wild creativity within.

Paul's Boutique is just overflowing with stuff. At times it seems like they're in competition with their Dust Brothers producers to see what they can cram in the most of: samples or namechecks. It's an unfair fight, and even these most skip-happy of beatmakers can't keep pace with the random referencing of the rappers, where the likes of Galileo, Dylan and Isaac Newton live alongside trainer brands and Ali's infamous rope-a-dope technique.

It would be good to hear Mike D, MCA and Ad-Rock elucidate on some of this on the reissue's accompanying audio commentary (available for free download from their website). Sadly they're as gnomic as usual, chatting amiably among themselves while revealing very little of the actual creative process. The principal incentive to buy, even if you already own, is the remastering, which means Paul's Boutique is no longer the quietest album on my iPod (though obsessives among you for whom the recession is other people's problem may like to know there's a special commemorative package, a snip at $129.99).

Other differences? B-Boy Bouillabaisse is now split into individual tracks and the fold-out digipak makes a proper picture of the album's panorama - something only those who picked up initial vinyl copies 20 years ago will have been able to appreciate before now. But content is king, and this is the album that confirmed the Beastie Boys were more than just frat boy tourists, influenced a slew of creative samplers from DJ Shadow onwards, and bears witness to the open-minded spirit of hip hop's golden generation. The cherry on top is that cover now carries the legend "20th Anniversary Edition". Nice going for an album that wasn't expected to live past Christmas.