IN THE Christmas issue of The Economist I have a piece on the Amen break—a seven-second burst of drumming from a 1969 funk track that went on to become one of the most sampled pieces of music in history. It wasn't easy aiming to satisfy The Economist's traditional demands of accuracy and analytic insight without alienating those of our readers (the vast majority, I would wager) for whom "jungle music" suggests a pounding of drums among dense vegetation rather than a groundbreaking London-based youth movement of the mid-1990s. If, as Frank Zappa is supposed to have said, writing about music is like dancing about architecture, this piece felt a bit like doing a Daniel Libeskind paso doble.

So following the creative-writing lecturer's dictum that it is better to show than to tell, I've picked a selection of tracks designed to showcase the varied uses to which the Amen break has been put, with an emphasis on tracks from the British jungle scene of the mid-1990s.

The Winstons—Amen, Brother (Metromedia, 1969)

Where it all began. An average, if sprightly, funk B-side from a forgotten soul act. The four-bar break kicks in at 1:26. Note the displaced kick and snare in the third bar, and the subsequent syncopation of the fourth.

NWA—Straight Outta Compton (Island, 1988)

(Warning: riddled with profanities,violent imagery and general unpleasantness.)

In 1986 "Amen, Brother" was selected for "Ultimate Breaks and Beats", a compilation of easy-to-sample tracks aimed at hip-hop DJs and producers. Soon, thanks to the wonders of the sampler, the Amen break was providing rhythmic heft for rappers, although usually in fairly rudimentary fashion. This track, for example, simply loops the first two bars of the beat.

The slowish tempo of most hip-hop meant that the break had to be replayed at a lower frequency than in the original. This had the happy side-effect of adding bass weight. Behold:

Mantronix—King of the Beats (Capitol, 1988)

This instrumental collage of hip-hop beats, basslines and other effects showed the wonders that could be woven by chopping up, relayering and generally tinkering around with the Amen break, rather than simply playing it straight. The wizardry begins at 0:54; it is subtle stuff compared to what was to come in later years, but the strategic replacement of various kick and snare hits nonetheless adds elements of rhythmic surprise; in places the beat takes centre stage. This track is credited with bringing the break to the ears of a whole new generation of British producers.

Lennie de Ice—We are i.e. (i.e. Records, 1991)

One of the first tracks from the emerging British dance-music scene to use Amen, this "proto-jungle" number does not tamper with the rhythmic structure of the break à laMantronix; instead, its timbral qualities, particularly the "ring" of the snare drum, are emphasised. What sounds like a tambourine pattern has been added to help the beat rattle along. The break makes its appearance at 1:47—this moment is known as the "drop"—and such jolting effects were to become a hallmark of many tracks in later years.

LTJ Bukem—Demon's Theme (Good Looking Records, 1992)

In tracks like "Demon's Theme" you begin to hear the acceleration, hyperactivity and rhythmic complexity that combined to stir what Simon Reynolds, a music writer, calls a "panic rush" among listeners of jungle, particularly in clubs. The basic break rings through clearly enough, but is encrusted with extra snare hits, cymbal crashes and bass thumps (not to mention a pot pourri of pads, samples and other synthesised effects). Reverence for the integrity of source material begins to fall away, to be replaced by the exhilaration of innovation.

Renegade (Ray Keith)—Terrorist (Moving Shadow, 1994)

I don't think the Amen break is allowed to run for a full bar at any pointin this deadly riot of snare rushes and cymbal crashes. This is the first track in this list to make full use of the syncopated rhythms in the fourth bar of the break. Listen also for the segments in which the bass is entirely cut from the sample, turning it into a trebly skitter of sound reminiscent of the leaks from a commuter's earphones.

Shy FX featuring UK Apachi—Original Nuttah (SOUR Records, 1994)

If you have only one Amen track among your Desert Island Discs, let it be "Original Nuttah". The drop, at 1:18, has been justly described by The Guardian as "the single most exciting moment in pop history". Shy FX, the musical brains behind this five-minute clattering cascade of rhythm, completely eliminates the lower frequencies from the Amen break, opening up aural space for a separate bassline (plundered, incidentally, from this rocksteady classic).

He also shows little respect for his source material: rather than simply speeding up and looping the break, he reduces it to its core elements and then builds up something entirely new, deploying snare hits like bursts of machine-gun fire. If you're lucky enough to find yourself at a club when this track is played, you won't forget it.

Dead Dred—Dred Bass (Moving Shadow, 1994)

We are in full-blown manic junglist mode here. As in the previous track, here the Amen break is reduced largely to its high-frequency elements, and the snare patterns are designed more to pummel you into submission than to carry the rhythm. Flange and delay effects add to the fun. What makes this track stand out for me is the juxtaposition of rhythmic maximalism and sonic minimalism—the track consists of little more than its Amen adventures and the thunderous bassline.

Dillinja—Ja Know Ya Big (Metalheadz, 1995)

One of the more prolific producers in jungle, Dillinja made countless Amen tracks. When I asked him what the best thing he ever did with the break was, he mentioned this track. Less frenzied than some of its predecessors, it exhibits a more radical approach to the rhythmic possibilities of sampling, at times veering close to abstraction.

Squarepusher—VIC Acid (Warp, 1997)

Dillinja may have pushed back the frontiers of Amen experimentation, but his music remained grounded on the dancefloor. By contrast, in the mid-1990s Britain witnessed the emergence of a wave of producers, such as Luke Vibert and Squarepusher, who had ambitions to use (and abuse) the sample but felt under no such constraints. This is music for the stereo rather than the nightclub, though it is probably too abrasive to find its way into many collections.

Oasis—D'You Know What I Mean? (Creation, 1997)

Even the dinosaurs of Britpop hopped aboard the Amen bandwagon, though to rather plodding effect. The Amen break is perhaps easiest to make out around 5:12.

Christopher Tyng—Theme from Futurama (1999)

Amen returns Stateside on the cheery theme tune to this popular cartoon series, by the makers of The Simpsons.

Ramadanman—Don't Change for Me (Hessle Audio, 2010)

The heyday of jungle was a formative period for so many young Britons, and the Amen break used in so many tracks, that its appearance today cannot avoid triggering a torrent of memories and associations. In the tracks of some producers, most of whom are far too young to have experienced the break in its glory days, you can hear a tender, almost plaintive yearning for a simpler time. A good example is this arresting track from one of the stars of contemporary British dance music, which makes extensive use of elements from Amen.

SEE ALSO This excellent audio lecture from 2004 tells the story of the Amen break and explores the complex questions of intellectual-property rights and cultural appropriation surrounding its re-use and manipulation.