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Radio: Urban Hits

20111129-urban-hits-560x225.jpg These days, urban music can encompass dance pop, quiet-storm soul, and hardcore hip-hop, from Rihanna to Charlie Wilson, from Jill Scott to Lil Wayne in "How to Love" mode. This would all be confusing, except for one thing: You know an R&B track when you hear it. That's why our Urban Hits station mixes tracks from genre queens Beyoncé and Mary J Blige with adult-contemporary goddess Adele and rap heroine Nicki Minaj. All of them contribute to our current understanding of R&B as less of a fixed genre (or a fixed race) than an aesthetic. It's a style of music with deep roots in soul and an appreciation of pop music's boundless creativity. Most importantly, it retains the ability to speak to a wide international audience. So don't be surprised if you hear Rick Ross' "Aston Martin Music" after Trey Songz "Bottoms Up." This is the sound of R&B in 2011.

Listen Now: Urban Hits


Christmas Soul Muzak

20111122-HOLIDAY-SG-xmas-soul-music-560x225.jpg Each Christmas brings with it another glut of holiday soul albums. This year's crop includes A Ginuwine Christmas and a holiday single from Mindless Behavior, "Christmas with My Girl." In years past, everyone from Destiny's Child (8 Days of Christmas) to Whitney Houston (One Wish: The Holiday Album) to Ashanti (Ashanti's Christmas) has gotten into the spirit, always mixing reliable standards (see Donny Hathaway's deathless "This Christmas") and original compositions that occasionally result in new classics (see Mariah Carey's "All I Want for Christmas Is You").

These are the kind of records you'll hear all month long at your family's house, especially since NBA basketball is on hiatus; it seems as if I've been hearing The Temptations' "Silent Night" on soul-oldies stations forever. The predictability of this stuff is part of the reason it works so well: B2K may get a little randy on 2002's Santa Hooked Me Up with "Sexy Boy Christmas," but eventually they get around to "Jingle Bells" and "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town." Chestnuts roasting on an open fire, Jack Frost nipping at your nose … the voices may change, but the standards stay with us.

Click here to listen to my playlist: Christmas Soul Soundtrack

20111122-hip-hop-RU-560x225.jpg It's nearing the end of the year, and there's no shortage of rappers trying to squeeze in an album for holiday shoppers. The big releases this month come from Drake, Wale, Gym Class Heroes and, surprisingly, Mac Miller. December brings The Roots, Common, and Snoop Dogg & Wiz Khalifa. However, there are plenty of lower-profile albums worth a listen, too; so many, in fact, that I couldn't squeeze them in. I compiled a list of them at the end of this roundup.

Click here to listen to a playlist: November 2011 Hot Rap Singles


1. Drake
Take Care
For Take Care, Drake re-ups the lush R&B romanticism of 2010's Thank Me Later, albeit with a twist. "I know I exaggerated things/ But now I got it like that," he says on "Headlines," where he threatens to sic his bodyguards on haters. (What happened to Gang Starr's "Suckas Need Bodyguards"?) Big cars, pliant women and deliciously ambient beats from Boi-1da and Noah "40" Shebib inspire this tastefully appointed exercise in debauchery. But Drake's not too famous to beg the girls on "Marvin's Room" and the title track, even if it sounds more like a booty call than true love. [Mosi Reeves]


Catching Up with Drake

20111115-DRAKE-SG-catching-up-with-drake-560x225.jpg Every rap season has that one rapper whose mere voice ensures radio airplay and paid downloads. Over the past 12 months, that artist has been Drake. He turned DJ Khaled's "I'm on One" into what was arguably the summer hip-hop anthem, and then did the same for Lil Wayne's "She Will" this fall. His only rivals for the 2011 Busta Rhymes Hot 16 Award (named for the man who virtually invented breakout guest appearances back in the early '90s) are his Young Money compatriots Weezy and Nicki Minaj.

That makes this playlist of Drake's many guest appearances and pre-Take Care singles almost unnecessary. But there are a few tracks that haven't reached critical mass (yet). There's J Cole's "In the Morning," which was originally recorded for Cole's Friday Night Lights mixtape and was subsequently included on Cole World: The Sideline Story. (It's a nice tune — I wouldn't be surprised if it became a single.) Then there's The Game's "Good Girls Gone Bad," T.I.'s "Poppin' Bottles," Bun B's "It's Been a Pleasure" and Pimp C's "What Up." All told, every retail track on which Drake has appeared since Thank Me Later is included here. You can thank me now.

Listen now: Catching Up With Drake

20111115-DRAKE-SG-ext-review-560x225.jpg On the cover of his second album, Take Care, Drake holds a chalice. He's dressed in a black shirt with the top buttons undone, revealing his chest, and he wears a few gold chains around his neck. ("Bracelets and rings/ All the little accents that make me a king," he says on "Lord Knows," before adding that his only role models are Hugh Hefner, Michael Jordan and his Young Money/Cash Money Billionaires bosses Lil Wayne and Baby the Birdman.) His eyes stare soulfully at the table in front of him, as if he were deep in thought. It's as if he wants to tell us that he, too, has dark moments of the soul.

Take Care is a thematic follow-up to 2010's Thank Me Later, but it's much closer to the pop zeitgeist. It caps a year when a host of artists echoed the ambient blend of R&B and hip-hop Drake introduced last year, including Frank Ocean and The Weeknd (who appear on several Take Care tracks). Big Sean and J Cole embraced the clean-cut, proudly middle-class, fame-for-fame's-sake ethos that Drake trumpeted. He didn't invent it (that honor goes to Kanye West), but his success has come to personify it. Much of the hardcore rap audience views these suburban braggarts suspiciously, taunting them as being too "soft," lobbing homophobic slurs and claiming that they're pop sellouts. Smartly, Drake doesn't bother answering these trolls. He's too focused on extending the cultural moment that began with Thank Me Later and exploring a vague melancholy that emerges in his relationships with women.

20111108-FRI-MIX-ego-trip-560x225.jpg When 2Pac rapped, "Every n*gg* in L.A. got a little bit of thug in him," he could have been talking about the hip-hop nation. Whether it's "conscious" fans who love Nas and Slum Village; indie kids who get off to Tyler, the Creator and Three 6 Mafia; or old-school heads who still bump Black Moon and Mobb Deep, every corner of hip-hop fandom harbors the thuggish, ruggish and just plain ignorant. I'm no different. One of my favorite things to do is drive around in my car and blast gangsta rap at high volume. Sometimes it's the beats that kill, but just as often it's the lyrics. I've never slanged keys or participated in a drive-by — or shot anyone at all, for that matter — but I can't deny that I get a rush from banging Wiz Khalifa's "Who I Am" (as in "When you see me in the club/ B*tch you know who I am) or YC's "Racks," featuring lyrics like "Strapped up/ No bodyguards." I'm not really, uh, strapped up, but I don't have a bodyguard, either. Shawty wanna ride with me?

Listen now: Friday Mixtape: Ego Trip


Heavy D, 1967-2011

20111108-heavy-d-560x225.jpg Dwight "Heavy D" Myers, who passed away November 8 from a heart attack at the age of 44, was part of hip-hop's original "New School," a wave of artists that brought the genre its first real critical attention. Previously, most music fans casually dismissed rappers as singles-driven electro artists and black-music novelties. Rakim, Big Daddy Kane, N.W.A., Public Enemy and others forced the world to accept them on their terms instead of the rockist criteria used to judge Run-DMC, LL Cool J and Grandmaster Flash & the Furious Five. With the New School's emergence, hip-hop grew from a fad to a generational force to be reckoned with.

However, radio programmers were reluctant to program "hardcore hip-hop," as it was called back then, for fear of upsetting older listeners. Heavy D & the Boyz were one of the few among this pioneering group to cross the generational divide and land hit singles. Beginning in 1987 with Big Tyme, the Mount Vernon, Queens crew—Heavy D, underrated producer Eddie "Eddie F" Ferrell, and backup dancers Troy "Trouble T-Roy" Dixon and Glen "G-Whiz" Parrish—dominated video shows like BET's Video Vibrations and Video Soul with funky New Jack beats and plenty of dancing. These were the kind of joints that taught you new moves to practice before the party and the latest fashions to cop at the mall. During the next several years, Heavy D & the Boyz recorded some of the best songs of the New Jack era, including "We Got Our Own Thang," "Mr. Big Stuff," and "Gyrlz, They Love Me."

When older folks reminisce about how hip-hop used to be fun, they're referring to artists like Heavy D, Salt-N-Pepa, Kool Moe Dee, Kid-N-Play and others. These artists didn't use profanity—Heavy D. & the Boyz made a track called "Don't Curse" for their 1991 album Peaceful Journeyand no one expected them to. Sadly, those days are over, and we demand that clean-cut teeny-bop acts like Soulja Boy Tell'em and New Boyz talk sh*t in order to earn their hip-hop badge. Twenty years ago, those credentials came at a higher price than potty talk: artistic creativity.

cheat_sheet_top_header_560x62.jpg 20111101-UK-hip-hop-560x225.jpg There was once a time when Americans treated the idea of British rappers as a joke. How could the English, with their funny accents and halting rhymes, approach the dexterity and rhythm of quality hip-hop music? Those days ended with the classic 1997 compilation Black Whole Styles, and Roots Manuva's groundbreaking 1999 debut Brand New Second Hand. Since then, we've been aware that the U.K. has a strong hip-hop movement that rivals our own.

However, our knowledge of it remains incomplete. It's not our fault — most U.K. rap never makes it across the pond. Last week, Professor Green — who is both hailed and criticized as the U.K. Eminem — released his second album, At Your Inconvenience. It's expected to debut near the top of the British charts, yet it's not scheduled for release in the States. The same goes for Chipmunk (Transition) and Wretch 32 (Black and White).

Ironically, the stuff we hear tends to be via indie labels, like Ninja Tune and its Big Dada subsidiary (Roots Manuva, Wiley and Dels). It's often experimental, with obvious appeal to adventurous listeners — electronic and indie fans in particular. Meanwhile, traditional U.K. rap gets ignored, perhaps because American hip-hop fans are assumed to be more conservative in their tastes. But even a reputation as critic favorites didn't help Dizzee Rascal, whose 2009 U.K. hit Tongue N' Cheek was never released here; nor The Streets, whose final album, Computers & Blues, didn't get a proper retail release (although it's available digitally).

R&B Roundup: October 2011

20111024-R&B-RU-560x250.jpg It's been a few months since we've done a roundup of new R&B albums. The summer was quiet, save for urban pop efforts from Beyoncé, Kelly Rowland, Lloyd and others. But the end of the year is usually prime time for soul artists, so the genre's output has increased. Perhaps the approaching winter months are to thank, inviting us to cuddle with our loved ones; more cynically, the perception that soul listeners skew older and stick to the classics may result in fewer new releases than most other genres enjoy. No matter the reason for the delay, I'm glad to finally hear some new soul music.

This time around, we've got a new Etta James collection, Goapele's long-awaited comeback, Mayer Hawthorne's major-label debut and Van Hunt's first release since his 2008 Blue Note album Popular was unfairly shelved.

If you're looking for highlights, click here for my October 2011 Hot R&B Singles playlist.


1. Etta James
Heart & Soul: A Retrospective
If you only know Etta James from the pop standard "At Last," then Heart & Soul is essential listening. It's remarkable how she's adopted styles over the decades, from a brief stint as "Miss Pitiful" — the female answer to Otis Redding — to machine-gun funk (the incredible "You Got It") to modern blues, like on the effective cover of Elmore James' "The Sky Is Crying" and the previously unreleased "Ashes by Now." No matter the sound, James made her mark with an expressive voice and forceful presence, and Heart & Soul is like reading a biography covering an incredible career. [Mosi Reeves]


20111018-hip-hop-RU-560x225.jpg This year's major-label rap seems to lack ambition. From potentially groundbreaking Internet stars forced into awkward compromises (J Cole and Big Sean) and classic mixtapes gutted and truncated for retail release (Big K.R.I.T.'s R4 the Prequel) to imitations of past glories (see Jay-Z and Kanye West), the 2011 slate has been underwhelming so far. Perhaps that's why I've spent more time listening to indie rap records — or at least what's nominally considered "indie" — and mixtapes. They may not necessarily be better, but at least they don't have the burden of living up to marketing hype.

Next month brings more contenders for Album of the Year, including Yelawolf's Radioactive and Drake's Take Care. Here's this month's slate. October 2011 Rap Albums Sampler


1. J Cole
Cole World: The Sideline Story
It's clear what Jay-Z heard in J Cole's mixtapes: the North Carolina rapper has a magnetic voice that draws you to his stories. The difference is that he isn't a hitmaker, at least not yet. Cole produced most of the music on Cole World: The Sideline Story, preferring nondescript beats that focus attention on his lyrics. It makes for an album that's more than the sum of its parts, with few standouts but plenty of solid tracks about abortion ("Lost Ones") and negligent fathers (the No I.D.-produced "Never Told"). Don't miss "In the Morning," in which he trades freaky tales with Drake, or the more hook-friendly single "Can't Get Enough." [Mosi Reeves]


20111018-mixtapes-to-majors-560x225.jpg The mixtape-to-majors trajectory, and the implicit challenges of converting underground acclaim into a sustainable career, has become part of the modern rap narrative. But it's not the only path. We've all seen how Drake, Kid Cudi and B.o.B rocketed from free downloads to hit albums like Thank Me Later, Man on the Moon: The End of Day, and The Adventures of Bobby Ray, respectively; we've also mocked Wale when he followed his widely acclaimed 2008 mixtape, the Seinfeld-inspired The Mixtape About Nothing, with a disappointing major-label debut, the following year's Attention Deficit. (He'll get another chance when Ambition drops next month.)

The inspiration for this roundup of 2011 mixtape artists is J Cole, the rapper/producer whose Cole World: The Sideline Story just sold nearly 300,000 copies in a week. The rest of the entries here chart a road sometimes marked by a major-label signing, though just as often it's with an independent. Yet these so-called "indies" are hardly industry outsiders: Mac Miller's management launched Wiz Khalifa, while Tyler, the Creator's team includes a former manager for Eminem. Even the concept of a "debut album" is questionable: the only real difference between Cole's largely self-produced Friday Night Lights and Cole World is that he released the former as a free download in December 2010. (I defined the term "debut album" as the first project originally intended for retail stores instead of the Internet.) Meanwhile, Big K.R.I.T.'s recent Return of 4va mixtape received the kind of press coverage reserved for official albums; unfortunately, he pushed his actual major-label debut back to 2012, so he's not included on this list.

In short, the rap game is just as confusing as ever. But mixtapes are a useful signifier for artists on the cusp of greatness — or at least those making quality music.

While reading, check out my playlist: From Mixtape to Majors


senior_year-banner-560x60.jpg 20111004-scratch-practice-560x225.jpg A pair of Technics turntable decks will cost you around $800 — maybe cheaper if you can get them used (or if you opt for a lesser brand like Numark). A DJ mixer will set you back another $300. A copy of the Turntablist's Super Duck Breaks costs around $10, and you'll need two copies. But the ability to scratch like DJ Q-Bert? That would be priceless.

In 1998, there was real value to being a DJ who could scratch, mix and cut records. Crews like the Invisibl Skratch Piklz, The X-Men (who changed their name to X-ecutioners to avoid a Marvel Comics lawsuit), the World Famous Beat Junkies and the Bullet Proof Scratch Hamsters roamed the earth. Turntablism, a term coined by Beat Junkie DJ Babu, came into vogue as DJs attempted to create a furiously abstract style of music built around turntable exercises attempted during OM Records-sponsored Deep Concentration tours and SF-based Future Primitive Soundsessions. The mania spread from the compilation series Return of the DJ to the Beastie Boys (who adopted the Piklz' Mix Master Mike as a DJ and honorary "fourth Beastie" for 1998's multiplatinum Hello Nasty) to DJ Shadow's 1996 masterpiece Endtroducing to DJ Q-Bert's Wave Twisters, another '98 release billed as "the first all-skratching album."

But you can't talk about turntablism without noting all the teens at home scratching away on custom-made vinyl like Bionic Booger Breaks and Sqratch Fetishes of the Third Kind. These records usually included several two-minute sound loops (aka "breaks"), along with seconds-long sound snippets that you could cut back and forth, most famously the simple exclamation "Fressshh!" When they weren't practicing how to be a DJ, these young turntablists were studying old-school classics like Public Enemy's "Rebel Without a Pause" and Terminator X's infamous Transformer Scratch, or partying to "real hip-hop" anthems like Gang Starr's "You Know My Steez," Black Star's "Definition," and KRS-One's "Rapture's Delight." But did they listen to any Jay-Z, Puff Daddy or DMX? No way — that stuff was wack and too mainstream! It's funny how times change.

Click here to listen to my entire playlist, Senior Year, 1998: Time 4 Skratch Practice.


20110913-hip-hop-RU-560x225.jpg This month's Hip-Hop Roundup brings a mixed bag of goodies, from the underground satires of Das Racist and Serengeti to the well-chronicled stadium rap of Lil Wayne and Jay-Z & Kanye West. There's not much common ground between Ace Hood and Theophilus London — one's a star on the mixtape circuit, while the other gets more name-drops on fashion blogs than rap forums. Hip-hop in 2011 encompasses so many contrasting and conflicting styles that it takes a wide palette to enjoy it all.

Click here to listen to my accompanying playlist: August 2011 Rap Albums Sampler


1. Das Racist
Relax
"The smart boys back with the dumb sound," raps Heems of Das Racist on "Selena." Actually, the sounds of Relax are pretty smart, too. The New York trio has made a quantum leap since their 2008 Internet novelty "Combination Pizza Hut and Taco Bell," and songs like "Shut Up, Man" (with El-P as a guest) and "Michael Jackson" have intricately satirical wordplay as well as dumb-hot hipster beats. As Das Racist celebrate White Castle burgers on "Rainbow in the Dark" and sing the dance-pop number "Girl" (or is it a parody?), it's difficult to tell if these guys take anything seriously. But that's probably the point.


senior_year-banner-560x60.jpg 20110906-juneteenth-560x225.jpg It's a bit late to celebrate Juneteenth. After all, the annual holiday commemorating the ending of slavery in the United States doesn't take place in the middle of September, but at the beginning of summer, on June 19. Perhaps it's the onset of fall, though, that makes our thoughts turn to warmer months and memories of park jams, barbecue and family reunions.

If you've ever been to a Juneteenth festival, then you know it's the kind of neighborhood gathering where hundreds of kids run wild in a park, half-crazed on sugar and sensory overload, while parents gossip, dance to the music, and hopefully get some much-needed alone time. Onstage there's usually an earnest activist or two, a few city councilpersons reaching out to the constituents, and a lineup of local singers and bands using the day as a stepping stone to wider fame. Back in 1979, that means you would have gotten a lot of funk and disco with your chicken and ribs. While we can only guess what the actual soundtrack would be, we know it would undoubtedly include the latest hits from Chic, P-Funk and The O'Jays — perhaps not in the flesh, but definitely via a party-rocking DJ's selections.

So why focus on 1979? Why not? The end of the '70s was a fantastic time for black music, and although the omnipresent disco beat could get a little annoying (see the Village People and Amii Stewart's "Knock on Wood"), it also led to incredible singles like Sister Sledge's "We Are Family" and McFadden & Whitehead's "Ain't No Stoppin' Us Now." It's easy to imagine how these songs evoked feelings of pride and accomplishment because, decades later, they remain a part of any community celebration. Rest in peace, Minnie Riperton, whose "Memory Lane" is included in this playlist; she died shortly after the song's release on July 12, 1979.

Click here to listen to my playlist: Senior Year, 1979: Juneteenth Festival.

September 11, 2001 Scrapbook

20110906-9-11-560x225.jpg We all reacted to the horrible events of September 11, 2001, in our own ways — wherever we were, whatever we were doing, whichever CD or radio station or fizzy pop single we first reached for to help us cope. Here, Rhapsody's editors offer their own musical perspectives, from saber-rattling country to hopeful worship music, from pop-punk bromides to plaintive protest songs, from the momentary tentativeness of comedy to the fieriness of hip-hop to the transcendence of jazz. As Sonny Rollins put it, "Maybe music can help. I don't know, but we have to try something." Here's what we tried.

Sifting Through the Ashes in New York City

I was in Park Slope, Brooklyn, that morning, about to board the subway for work in Lower Manhattan, when my roommate told me I should turn the TV on. After the second plane hit, I went up to the roof of our apartment building and watched the smoke. Cars were dusted with ashes as far south as where I lived. I spent the day switching between staring at TV news and trying to drown out the hell in my head (and the fear that the Army might call me back up) with desolate ambient doomsday metal: Neurosis, My Dying Bride, Amorphis droning about mushroom clouds.

20110830-diary-mixtape-560x225.jpg In case you were wondering, yes, I was one of those people who would spend months perfecting a mixtape, design a collage of artwork for it, and then shyly hand over the cassette tape to some crush I mooned over in hopes that she would get my special "message." Don't front like you didn't do that, too.

Sometimes, though, I would simply create a mix that described my thoughts and feelings on life in general. It was akin to writing in a journal, though easier than confronting my thoughts nakedly transcribed on a piece of paper — the music allowed me to hide behind the sounds of others who could voice things that I could not or would not say. I worked on these 90-minute mixes — 45 to 50 minutes for each cassette side — by recording songs from a turntable, erasing and retaping them, and hoping the tape wouldn't break. (Yep, I used to make tape loops, too.) When I finished them, I not only gave the tapes to would-be lovers, but friends, too, just to let them know what was going on in my head.

The era of the cassette tape is long gone (though it's making a tentative comeback in indie circles; earlier this month, I copped new tapes by both MF Doom & Ghostface Killah, and Death Grips). So now I program songs in iTunes and Rhapsody, trying out different combinations, and hearing which fit together sonically and thematically. It's a less physical act than cuing up and manipulating a cassette tape, but the goals are the same.

As I said before, I often spend months on a tape. Due to time constraints, I knocked this one out in a few hours, so it's not my ideal mix. But its range of artists, from The Emotions to The Throne to Zomby to The Cure to Little Dragon, will give you a brief peek into where I am right at this moment.

Click here to listen to my playlist: Friday Mixtape: Mixtape Diary


20110830-rock-the-bells-560x225.jpg Click here for a playlist of the biggest songs at this year's Rock the Bells festival.

The live summer blockbuster Rock the Bells has lasted nearly 10 years by catering to the notion that "classic" and indie rap acts keep the flame of real hip-hop alive. It's clearly a fantasy, but the fault lines remain — Southern rapper David Banner left the 2007 tour after the audience greeted him with boos on a few dates. For better or worse, it's still known as the old-school festival.

Still, no other event — save smaller packages like Atlanta's A3C Festival (which assembles a better range of regional styles) and L.A.'s indie-leaning Paid Dues Festival — offers a comparable experience. Unfortunately, stereotypes persist that rappers show up late (or not at all) to concerts, put on uninspired performances and often incite gang violence. Acclaimed headlining sets by Eminem at Lollapalooza and Kanye West at Coachella are just two recent examples that disprove this misconception. But there's enough random evidence, including Big Boi's guileless recent cancellation at San Francisco's Outside Lands fest despite Tweeting pics of himself backstage, to fuel the perception. Perhaps that's why people embrace Rock the Bells with such irrepressible enthusiasm: it's a chance for artists without the selling power of Eminem or Kanye to get their festival moment, too.

Rock the Bells: Photos

Rock-the-Bells-2.jpg Mos Def. Pics by Mosi Reeves.

Mos Def & Talib Kweli are Black Star, with J-Rocc on the turntables.
Listen to: Black Star, "Re:Definition"

20110830-LIL-WAYNE-SG-ext-review-560x225.jpg Lil Wayne could have made a much worse album than Tha Carter IV. Certainly, he seemed primed for a disaster. Released in 2010, the widely derided Rebirth was a sophomoric pop-punk experiment. Its follow-up, the I Am Not a Human Being EP, marked a retreat to his modus operandi as a Dirty South rhyme animal, but it sounded rote and joyless, and he seemed distracted by a pending prison stint for weapons possession (which he completed early this year). After those relative failures — though both went gold on Wayne's brand name and his unquenchable fan base — Tha Carter IV seems less likely to draw the same excitement and interest as 2008's Tha Carter III. And while teaser singles such as "John," "6 Foot 7 Foot," "How to Love" and "She Will" have been decent, none of them have equaled the classic minimalist attack of Vol. III's "A Milli" or the inexplicably popular pillow-hump ballad "Lollipop."

The World of Young Money

20110830-LIL-WAYNE-SG-young-money-560x225.jpg Lil Wayne's Young Money is a crew on par with G-Unit, Dipset, Maybach Music and Grand Hustle. Last year, Drake redefined R&B and hip-hop fusion while transforming into a platinum artist with Thank Me Later; Nicki Minaj almost single-handedly revived rapping as a vocation for the ladies and became a platinum sensation with Pink Friday. Which other squad can boast three platinum brands in 2011? To quote Jay-Z's memorable riposte to his many haters at the 2009 American Music Awards (which he later repeated on The Blueprint III's "Reminder"), "Men lie, women lie, numbers don't."

And yet, it seems wrong to rank Young Money among mainstream rap's biggest cliques, even if they've inarguably earned their spot. When we think of rap crews, our minds turn to hood soldiers, self-described thugs that spend as much time racking up criminal charges and beefing with other gangsters as they do logging guest spots on their sponsors' albums, patiently waiting for some shine of their own. Lil Wayne may fit the bill of a fearless, battle-scarred leader who's served prison time, but his progeny seem focused on reaching the pop charts, not ruling the mixtape circuit and carrying Weezy's weed stash. Their heroes are genre-blurring sensations like Kanye West, Chris Brown, Rihanna and, of course, Wayne himself.

This playlist collects all the familiar Y.M. hits from the late 2009 collection We Are Young Money, as well as a few unheralded singles that expand on the collective's urban pop approach. With new, swaggering tracks like "I'm on It," Tyga is carefully rebranding himself after the 2008 novelty hit "Coconut Juice." On "Love Affair" and "New Money," Lil Twist has modeled himself after Bow Wow and other underage emcees, searching for a breakout single that will force the world to notice him. Not every Young Money crew member will blow up like Drake and Nicki Minaj, but expect rap's hottest team to continue upending our notions of the hip-hop supergroup.

Click here to listen to the entire playlist: The World of Young Money.


20110830-LIL-WAYNE-SG-main-560x225.jpg Hyper-talented, mercurial, unpredictable, prolific, hedonistic, and seemingly unstoppable, Lil Wayne is, if not the best rapper alive, certainly among the most luridly fascinating. Fresh out of prison and reinvigorated, he's back with Tha Carter IV, a record rife with more humor, violence, extravagance, and blockbuster cameos than every wan 2011 Hollywood sequel put together. So here's Rhapsody's exclusive guide, featuring an in-depth review of the record itself, an examination of Wayne's extended Young Money crew, a playlist celebrating Wayne's best recent tracks, and our salute to the Monsters of Rap, from Jay-Z to Eminem to, of course, the man himself. Enjoy.

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Is Tha Carter IV another classic? An extended look.
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Life After Rebirth: A deep playlist running down Wayne's latest hits, misses, and oddities
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Monsters of Rap: Jay, Kanye, 50, Wayne and more battle for hip-hop supremacy
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Young Money Talks: Thanks to Drake and Nicki Minaj, Wayne's crew is thriving
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Nickolas Ashford, RIP

20110823-ashford-and-simpson-560x225.jpg It's impossible to pay tribute to the late songwriter Nickolas Ashford, who died on August 22, without discussing his wife and partner Valerie Simpson. He wrote and recorded nearly all of his songs with her. (Crate-diggers will note that Ashford made a few solo singles in the late '60s.) Married since 1974, the couple was soul music's most durable relationship. To quote from their biggest pop hit, "Solid," they were "solid as a rock."

For black audiences of a certain age, Ashford & Simpson were an archetype as familiar as freaky ol' Rick James and Stevie the blind genius. On their late-'70s soul albums, marriage became a melodrama of commitment, devotion and ecstasy. Their image was indelible -- Ashford with his long, enveloping lion's mane and thick mustache, and Simpson with her flowing cornrows and lissome frame. On the album covers for Send It and Is It Still Good to Ya, the two appeared enraptured in each other, holding on together no matter what happens. Ashford & Simpson's high-volume disco performances on hits like "It Seems to Hang On" and "Found a Cure" lent themselves to parody -- "Loose me! Please!" they shouted lustily to each other on the former -- and seemingly inspired the '90s sketch-comedy show In Living Color's "Ceephus and Reesie" skits. But their partnership, which lasted until Ashford's death, was also based on hard-won experience that they alluded to in song. "Though they don't complain/ Doesn't mean there's no pain," sang Ashford on 1986's "Count Your Blessings." "To forget is the worst/ So always put them first/ Thinking of their needs/ Make them the one you please."

Ashford & Simpson may have achieved a certain legend as disco artists, but their achievement as songwriters was also significant. The couple began writing together in the mid-'60s, and in 1965 they landed their first hit, Ray Charles' "Let's Go Get Stoned." Three decades of classic singles followed: Marvin Gaye & Tammi Terrell's "Ain't No Mountain High Enough" and "Ain't Nothing Like the Real Thing" (plus Marlena Shaw's "California Soul") in the '60s; Chaka Khan's "I'm Every Woman" in the '70s; and their own "Solid" in the '80s. They wrote and produced Diana Ross' 1979 comeback album The Boss, including the no. 1 title track, as well as albums for Gladys Knight & the Pips. And it must be pointed out that they wrote one of the greatest disco songs ever, Sylvester's incredible "Over and Over."

With Ashford's passing at the age of 70, one-half of this classic songwriting team is gone. But Ashford & Simpson's music together will undoubtedly endure.

Click here to listen to a memorial playlist: A Tribute to Nickolas Ashford


cheat_sheet_top_header_560x62.jpg 20110823-earth-wind-fire-560x225.jpg Earth, Wind & Fire were the biggest black rock band of the 1970s. But today, they're among the era's most misunderstood platinum acts. The group's discography nearly mirrors black music's evolution, from the Afrocentric jazz of the Black Panther years to the quiet storm balladry and slick corporate funk that marked the end of that tumultuous decade with a merciful whimper. As the visionary leader, songwriter, producer, multi-instrumentalist and vocalist, Maurice White sought to encapsulate it all, and he succeeded remarkably. When you hear an Earth, Wind & Fire record, you know it. The soaring brass section led by Andrew Woolfolk and the Phenix Horns, the marvelous interplay between White's cool spoken-sung vocals and Philip Bailey's lush falsetto, and White's kalimba (aka African finger piano) gave them a unique, oft-copied sound. However, their capacity for hit singles has sometimes reduced them to pop-culture clichés, whether it was 1979's wildly over-the-top disco nugget "Boogie Wonderland" or Julia Louis-Dreyfus doing the funky-white-girl dance to "Shining Star" on Seinfeld.

Then there's that other black rock juggernaut of the '70s, Parliament-Funkadelic. The two organizations were rivals, and P-Funk figurehead George Clinton claimed that E.W.F. were "earth, all wind, and no fire." They celebrated the African American experience in markedly different ways. P-Funk adopted a cryptic language based on street slang, black popular culture and authors like Ishmael Reed. Their music was often intentionally cryptic, which not only protected them from homogenization (or "the placebo syndrome"), but also created a cult of believers dedicated to propagating Clinton's message of funk epiphany.

20110816-amy-winehouse-b2b-560x225.jpg When Amy Winehouse passed away from as-yet unknown causes on July 23, the trauma registered across music communities and genre barriers. Rap websites chronicled her duets with Ghostface Killah and Mos Def. Green Day and M.I.A. recorded tributes. And nearly everyone returned to the album that brought her to our attention, 2006's Back to Black.

When the album first surfaced, some listeners struggled to tune out the deafening, industry-fueled hype surrounding it, and as a result, may have underestimated its powers. It is now clear that Back to Black is an incredible piece of music. Perhaps we've reached that verdict out of sadness over her untimely demise, or an awareness of how her years-long spiral into drug and alcohol abuse imprinted her literally blood-soaked image into our minds. Only time will tell us if Winehouse the paparazzi casualty will recede beneath Winehouse the retro-soul prodigy, much as we have come to forget the tabloid follies of Kurt Cobain and many others. We shouldn't lose an appreciation of her music.

20110809-monsers-of-rap-560x225.jpg Back in the '80s, the world's biggest rock bands gathered together for an annual stadium festival called Monsters of Rock. Though mostly a U.K. phenomenon, an American version featuring Van Halen and Metallica toured the States in 1988. Now, with the release of Jay-Z and Kanye West's Watch the Throne, it's an ideal time to chronicle the rise of the hip-hop megastar and establish our very own Monsters of Rap.

First, let's establish some rules. They must have at least one platinum album. (That eliminates Kid Cudi, Rick Ross, Lupe Fiasco, Gucci Mane, Flo Rida, Tech N9ne, B.o.B, Wiz Khalifa and Pitbull.) They must have at least two full-length albums to their credit. After all, "monster" signifies a fearsome animal with a significant life span, not a zygote-like flash in the pan. (That eliminates Drake and Nicki Minaj.) Finally, they must be an "active" artist with new material; artists who are dead (the Notorious B.I.G., 2Pac, and Big Pun, R.I.P.) and currently inactive  (Missy Elliott, OutKast) are excluded.

20110809-watch-the-throne-ext-review-560x225.jpg "Wasn't I a good king?" complains Jay-Z near the conclusion of Watch the Throne, his long-awaited full-length collaboration with Kanye West. Who can blame his haughtiness? The natives are restless. Last year was an embarrassment of riches, as Thank Me Later, Teflon Don and, yes, My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy redefined the contours of luxury rap. But 2011 is the comedown, ruined by pretenders like Wiz Khalifa's Rolling Papers and Big Sean's Finally Famous, which trumpet the virtues of overnight celebrity with none of the sweat, vigor or hard-won respect.

And so we sink our teeth into Watch the Throne, and find the taste rather funny. When two superstars get together, we expect frizzy blasts of energy that wow us on first listen and slowly dissipate in the morning, like a pleasant dream. We're looking for impact, not resonance, like B.B. King and Eric Clapton's Riding with the King. We expect incredible verses (or guitar solos) and catchy songs before we return to the drudgery of our pedestrian lives.

But instead, here we get the specter of 2010's cash crop, and the distant yet still visible peaks of Jay-Z and Kanye West's past glories. The critics, bloggers and rap fanatics are waiting, too, ready to write virtual term papers on this pay-per-listen event and turn W.T.T. into a metaphor for either the debt crisis or the yawning income gap between rich and poor, or whatever. If this bloated hour-plus enterprise fails, albeit admirably, it'll be despite our two heroes' attempts to fulfill our contradictory expectations for shameless pop carnality and weighty artistic sustenance.

20110726-hip-hop-RU-560x225.jpg Independent hip-hop is no longer split between "backpack" and "street." In 2011, the underground defies categorization, and artists like Jay Rock and Kendrick Lamar (both from the Black Hippy crew) or Mellowhype (from Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All) balance an unapologetic street ethos with a taste for complex sounds and themes. Even Sole, who helped create the modern indie-rap landscape with early '00s albums like Bottle of Humans, is collaborating with idiosyncratic swag thugs like Lil B and Isaiah Toothtaker.

It's in this spirit that we play catch up with some of this season's more notable independent releases. While reading, be sure to check out my accompanying playlist: mix_play_18x14.gifJuly 2011 Rap Albums Sampler

senior_year-banner-560x60.jpg 20110719-black-radio-560x225.jpg The year 1983 must have been a crazy time to be a black teenager. Michael Jackson was blowing up big time, whether it was rocking that ultra-fresh red zipper jacket in the "Beat It" video or slaying millions of Americans with his "Billie Jean" performance on the Motown 25 broadcast. Prince was creepin' up, too, thanks to his coyly suggestive "Little Red Corvette" and 1999. Lionel Richie got love, too, even if "All Night Long (All Night)" was kinda corny. Luther Vandross was still making post-disco hits with a fury, from his own "I'll Let You Slide" to producing Aretha Franklin's "Get It Right." The funk was still strong, whether it was George Clinton's massive "Atomic Dog" or The Gap Band's nonstop "Party Train."

In retrospect, the year seems so exhilarating and confusing. Yes, the synthesizer ruled the charts, leading critics like Nelson George to declare it "the death of rhythm and blues." But what about electro stars like Afrika Bambaataa and the Jonzun Crew? Hell, what about David Bowie's "Let's Dance," The Human League's "(Keep Feeling) Fascination" and Madonna's "Holiday"? Incredibly, all this stuff found a home on Billboard's Black Singles chart (which wasn't retitled R&B/Hip-Hop Singles until years later). There was even space for the odd novelty jam like Sexual Harrassment's "I Need a Freak."

20110712-tupac-560x225.jpg Click here to listen to mix_play_18x14.gif2Pac's Early Years playlist

Tupac Shakur would've turned 40 on June 16 this year. His birthday did not go unnoticed. Members of the Shakur family, event promoters and fans held honorary parties across the country that day; meanwhile, Meek Mill's "Tupac Back," the lead single from Rick Ross' Maybach Music Group compilation Self-Made, briefly lit up the Internet. And a day before 2Pac's birthday, a man serving life in prison named Dexter Isaac told allhiphop.com that he was paid by former record executive Jimmy "The Henchman" Rosemond to rob the rapper during what became the infamous 1994 Quad Studios shooting. Taken together, it all amounted to the most 2Pac discussion in years.

Perhaps the birthday is what prompted Universal Music Group to digitally re-release 2Pac's early Interscope recordings in June. There isn't much left to say about a mythological figure who has generated conspiracy theories, academic books and a cottage industry of bootlegs since his 1996 death. But his first three albums, along with the Thug Life compilation and the post-mortem collection R U Still Down? (Remember Me), deserve new scrutiny. This era is often summarized as 2Pac's "conscious" period, before he "signed a deal with the devil" at Death Row (as his mother, Afeni Shakur, once put it). But the records themselves aren't as straightforward.

banner_HTC_white.jpg 20110705-radar-cualdron-no-logo-560x225.jpg Welcome to the final installment of Rhapsody Radar, our month-long tribute to 24 up-and-coming artists who thrill us. Below you'll find our last six honorees: a couple melancholy but inspiring country upstarts, some muscular boogie-rock enthusiasts, a little experimental hip-hop, and a killer Canadian metal band with song titles like "Chained Up in Chains." Let's start with those guys, actually — read (and hear) below.

Cauldron: The Metalheads Bringing Catchiness Back

"We are youuuuung … and hungry!" Jason Decay proclaimed in the first song on Cauldron's 2009 debut album, and this metal trio has spent the two years since proving their case. They're a throwback to the pre-thrash early '80s — a time when metal bands were allowed to be super-fast, catchy, heavy and hilarious, all at once. Sometimes they even sound like Def Leppard crossed with Metallica, if both had quit after their own debut LPs: speed metal before the rock 'n' roll got purged from its system. Their album covers, too, are absurdly over-the-top in ways rarely seen since 1983 — girls on fire and in chains, both of which happen to be favorite song-title themes. Their Flying V-brandishing guitarist calls himself Ian Chains.

20110701-CEELO-playlist.jpg In an age of male vocalists who either whisper and croon, or modulate their voices with Auto-Tune and other "pitch-correcting" technology, CeeLo Green is a veritable throwback. He's got a big voice like Tom Jones and a killer personality like Otis Redding. And don't forget that he's a superior rapper, too, one of the best the South has ever produced.

Those of us who have followed Mr. Holloway since his days with Goodie Mob already know this. But for the people who just discovered CeeLo via his work as one-half of Gnarls Barkley or as the engine behind his instant solo classic "F*ck You," you've got some catching up to do. CeeLo is not only a terrific talent, but a hard-working session vocalist game for collaboration, whether it's Swedish electro-pop outfit The Teddybears ("Cho Cha"), new-school Northeast rapper Asher Roth ("Be By Myself"), or comedian Jack Black (see his remake of "Kung Fu Fighting"). And don't forget the fact that he wrote the Pussycat Dolls' biggest hit, "Don't Cha."

CeeLo has put in so much work during the last decade that this modest two-hour playlist can't cover it all. It nonetheless includes a handful of solo hits, lots of guest appearances and even his early work with OutKast and Dungeon Family. Check out the playlist: playWorld of Cee Lo Green, the unstoppable soul machine.


banner_HTC_white.jpg 20110628-radar-com-truise.jpg Welcome to another edition of Rhap Radar, our month-long survey of 24 up-and-coming artists that excite us. For a peek at what you've missed so far, here's a playlist of our first dozen honorees. And now we move on to a new batch, featuring a slow-burning blog-rap upstart, an Afro-Latin innovator (and politician!), Radiohead-esque indie rockers, a nostalgia-drenched electro-funker, and two women named Natalia (one a Latin-pop diva, the other a will.i.am-abetted pop star in training). Read on and listen in below.

Com Truise: The Synthesizer-Wielding Retro-Futurist

Hip-Hop Roundup

20110628-hip-hop-RU-560x225.jpg "Delayed gratification" is the theme of June's rap slate. Big Sean's Finally Famous has arrived long after the Detroit rapper signed to G.O.O.D. Music in 2007. Bad Meets Evil's Hell: The Sequel is a "follow-up" to an abandoned album once planned for the end of the '90s, back when Eminem was issuing his major-label debut, The Slim Shady LP. Indie-rap titans Sean Price, Guilty Simpson and Black Milk have finally brought us Random Axe after announcing the project in 2009. Blue Scholars just released Cinemetropolis, their first album in four years; Trae's King of the Streets 3 is his first full-length since 2008. Are they worth the wait?

Check out highlights from this month's Rap Roundup in the June 2011 Rap Albums Sampler playlist.


20110628-beyonce-dangerously-in-love-560x225.jpg When we think of Beyoncé 's Dangerously in Love, we remember the hits. "Crazy In Love," with its brassy horn licks (courtesy of The Chi-Lites' "Are You My Woman [Tell Me So]") and funky go-go rhythms, is one of the best singles of the past decade. "Naughty Girl" oozed an aggressive sexuality that seemed more visceral than the pre-packaged showgirl struts of her previous group, Destiny's Child. And "Baby Boy" was right in tune with the dancehall revival and synonymous club anthems like Lumidee's "Never Leave You (Uh Ooh, Uh Ooh)" and Elephant Man's "Pon De River, Pon De Bank."

But Dangerously was split between those celebrated numbers and nearly a dozen torch songs. It's not an easy transition. The singles arrived early and ended quickly, and Beyoncé spent the rest of the hour on melodramatic love tunes like "Yes," "Speechless" and "Signs," the latter coyly referencing her love affair with Jay-Z: "I was in love with a Sagittarius/ He blew my mind." Some of the ballads, particularly "Me, Myself and I," aren't bad, and they gave her a chance to demonstrate her incredible, octave-scaling voice. But the uptempo songs were so incredible that they left us wanting more.

20110628-beyonce-destinys-child-560x225.jpg Sisters With Voices. Total. Destiny's Child. You didn't need a lyric sheet to get the point with the legion of R&B girl groups who dominated urban pop music in the 1990s. It was plain to hear, from the coquettishly sexual lyrics to their sassy, irreverent tones and lovely multipart harmonies. Sadly, music critics tended to give them cursory attention, instead devoting their time to untangling rap music that often required a degree in regional slang to understand. And following the breakup of Destiny's Child and the quick dissolution of Danity Kane, the R&B girl-group phenomenon seems like it's over. Perhaps there can only be one diva in today's gladiatorial Fame Matrix, leaving little room for sisterhood.

20110621-pitbull.jpg Pitbull's anticipated new album, Planet Pit,hits stores this week. Its first two singles, "Hey Baby (Drop It to the Floor)" and "Give Me Everything," have dominated pop-radio playlists for months, with the latter charting at No. 1 in several countries.

The Miami rapper is yet another example of how the worlds of dance-pop and hip-hop are intersecting. Pitbull has dabbled in both genres for years, as have Flo Rida, Lil Jon, Kid Cudi, Gorilla Zoe and many others. But while rappers increasingly rhyme (and sing) over progressive house and trance-inspired beats, more critics and fans are complaining that it's all just bad pop music made by cynical record labels for an undiscerning audience.

banner_HTC_white.jpg 20110621-RADAR-kreayshawn.png Welcome to week two of Rhapsody Radar, our series highlighting 24 up-and-coming artists we're thrilled about, augmented with all manner of playlists, videos and other such ephemera. This week we've got a blog-rap sensation, a couple of idiosyncratic soul/R&B rookies, a small-town country belter and more. Take a look, and then take a listen.

Kreayshawn: The Improbable YouTube Rap Sensation

Picture it in skywriting above the Golden Gate Bridge: "Nobody gettin' over me/ I got the swag and it's pumping out my ovaries." Whether that's one giant leap for feminism or just a rallying cry for swag rap's female generation probably doesn't matter much to Bay Area native Kreayshawn. She raps about being an Adderall dealer; it's doubtful she cares what you think. Born Natassia Zolot, the 21-year-old rapper/filmmaker has enjoyed a meteoric career trajectory over the last year, dropping an Internet-acclaimed mixtape, earning accolades from the likes of Snoop Dogg, garnering many millions of YouTube views for her (ridiculously addictive) "Gucci Gucci," and, perhaps most important of all, establishing herself as down with hip-hop's most notorious crew, Odd Future.

banner_HTC_white.jpg 20110614-radar-nicholas-jaar-560x225.jpg By now we've got a pretty good handle on the biggest stars of 2011: Adele! Gaga! Rebecca Black! But what about the next wave — the up-and-coming artists we're particularly excited about, those we expect will be clogging up RSS feeds and year-end critics' lists and possibly magazine covers sooner rather than later?

With that in mind, welcome to Rhapsody Radar, our month-long series highlighting 24 artists we're especially thrilled about, from blog-rap princesses to fledgling Latin-pop superstars, from roots-rock titans to hip dance-punkers. We'll be highlighting six new names a week, with tons of videos, playlists and additional ephemera to boot. Here's our initial batch, with all songs linked to their Rhapsody pages for instant discovery. Get acquainted, and have fun.

senior_year-banner-560x60.jpg20110607-new-jack-house-party-560x225.jpg Do a little dance y'all! (Like this y'all, like that y'all!) Feel the groove! (I feel it, I feel it now!) Make a little love now! (Ooh, aah, ooh ooh, aah!) This party's at the funhouse, we're rocking high-top fades, Cross Colours tees and high-top Jordans, and the sound is the New Jack Swing.

It's been here since 1987, ever since Teddy Riley dropped a bomb on us with Keith Sweat's "I Want Her" and Kool Moe Dee's "How Ya Like Me Now." And it ain't going nowhere; as Guy's second album title put it, it's The Future. So what if G-funk and boom-bap lie just around the corner, and dudes were about to keep it too real and hardcore to have fun anymore, and soul music was about to get so horny it would make Digital Underground's "Freaks of the Industry" seem as G-rated as Disney's Beauty and the Beast? For now, U can't touch this, even if you rocked a pair of MC Hammer's yellow parachute pants.

And don't even get us started on New Edition. They're straight running things in 1990, whether it's Johnny Gill, Ralph Tresvant or Bell Biv Devoe, who had us on lock with "Poison." And don't forget Bobby Brown ... Cool used to do her, too. Yeah, buddy, you better heed EPMD's warning and watch out for those fly honeys: they might be a "Gold Digger," or may leave you thinking "I Thought It Was Me?!!" like B.B.D. But hey, every guy wants an "Around the Way Girl" like Uncle L, while the ladies just want to "Hold On" to their love like En Vogue. We're conscious enough to keep it Afrocentric, work out the battles between the sexes and build a true Rhythm Nation.

So swing your black medallions and get busy to the sounds of Janet Jackson and Father MC, and an era when R&B and hip-hop still seemed innocent and carefree.

Click here to listen to the entire playlist: Senior Year, 1990: New Jack House Party.


20110531-gil-scot-560x225.jpg Gil Scott-Heron never had a Top 40 hit, and certainly never had a platinum album. Yet when his death at age 62 was announced on the late afternoon of Friday, May 27, it immediately became a trending topic (and a "trending topic") across the Internet. His impact resonated beyond sales metrics and radio spins.

Ultimately, he'll be remembered as a pioneer of hip-hop music and the coiner of the phrase "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised." The latter, which he first recorded as a spoken-word piece for his 1971 debut Small Talk at 125th and Lenox and then as a jazz-funk piece on 1972's Pieces of a Man, weaves around early-'70s iconography like old-school Civil Rights activist Roy Wilkins wearing red-black-and-green jumpsuits and the TV soap Search for Tomorrow. While the pop banalities he rails against have faded from memory, the poem endures as a timeless parable, and a reminder that the real world moves faster than any communication medium, corporation or government can anticipate.

Hip-Hop Roundup

20110531-hip-hop-RU-560x225.jpg For weeks now, hip-hop has been dominated by the debate surrounding Tyler, the Creator's provocative Goblin and the anticipation surrounding Self Made, the compilation from Rick Ross' new label/crew, Maybach Music Group. The hype surrounding those two albums overshadowed Killer Mike’s worthy Pl3dge as well as indie works like Del the Funky Homosapien's Golden Era and others. Look for a roundup of 2011’s less heralded works soon.

Various Artists
MMG Presents: Self Made, Vol. 1
Rick Ross unveils his star-studded clique Maybach Music Group with Self Made. It's not as bad as most rap-crew comps, but that's not saying much. At best, MMG associates Meek Mill, Pill and Wale bring lyrical heat to "Tupac Back," "Rise" and the sex jam "That Way." At worst, Self Made induces headaches as various producers copy the beat for Ross' 2010 hit "B.M.F. (Blowin' Money Fast)." And this wouldn't be a Ricky Rozay album without outrageous claims: on "By Any Means," he raps, "As-salaam-alaikum/ Wa-alaikum salaam/ Whatever your religion, kiss the ring on the don." — Mosi Reeves

20110524-tyler-the-creator-560x225.jpg Perhaps the best thing about Tyler, the Creator's Goblin is that he has mastered the art of intimacy. Throughout this nearly hour-and-a-half-long therapy session, the leader of L.A. hip-hop collective Odd Future sounds as if he is speaking directly to you. However, therapy sessions usually only last an hour. By stretching the listener's patience to its breaking point and offering only modest emotional returns, he impresses with his self-absorption instead of his catharsis.

Tyler's breakthrough arrives in the final track, "Golden," when he announces, "I'm not crazy." As Goblin begins, he subtly broadcasts that he's capable of change in spite of the worrisome obscenities that will follow: "I'm not a f*cking rapist, or a serial killer/ I lied," he says to his "therapist," which is actually his own voice modulated to a low growl. But he doesn't spend much time bidding for the audience's sympathy, because no one wants a pity party. He knows that what we really want to hear are the vicarious thrills of someone calling someone "n*gga," "b*tch" and "f*ggot"; fantasizing about raping and cannibalizing women; and entertaining an interest in Nazism (though that last point is less pronounced here than on his debut solo album, 2010's "freelease" Bastard).

20110524-odd-future-560x225.jpg Odd Future leader Tyler, the Creator's Goblin may be the most controversial album of 2011 so far. Hundreds of professional writers, amateur bloggers, tastemaker publications and fellow musicians have weighed in on the 20-year-old Los Angeles rapper/producer's psychoanalytic exploration of his id. They have picked apart Goblin's lyrics, weighed its racial and cultural implications, and argued whether the album is a provocative stunt or a brilliant work. The commentary has reached such meta levels that many Goblin reviews just focus on the hype surrounding Odd Future — from a swelling of industry buzz to myth-making cover stories in Billboard and The Fader to an online backlash, all within six months or so — and disregard the actual work.

With so many writers penning their PhD theses (some of which are very good), I've culled excerpts from a few significant ones, if only to avoid repeating the same ideas (which may be impossible). But I'm not abdicating my responsibility to cover the album: I've also written a separate, extended review. (I already penned a capsule review upon the record's May 10 release.) Goblin may be far from a masterpiece, but it has certainly made for a memorable hip-hop experience.

20110518-mf-doom-SM--560x225.jpg The dust has yet to settle on the indie-rap renaissance of the late '90s, with critics and fans fiercely divided on which albums constitute classics. One title they agree on is MF Doom's 1999 masterwork Operation: Doomsday.

Daniel Dumile has not been photographed in public without his metal mask for more than a decade. He launched his career as Zev Love X, one-third of the Long Island rap trio KMD, a group he shared with his brother, the DJ and producer Subroc. In 1991 KMD issued their memorable debut, Mr. Hood, and were quickly lumped in with such quirky post-D.A.I.S.Y. Age groups as Leaders of the New School and Black Sheep. However, KMD's second album, Black B_st_rds, was much more hard-edged, reflecting the hip-hop world's rising interest in gangster-ism. The album's sardonic tone — and particularly its controversial cover art, depicting a Sambo-like cartoon figure hanging from a noose — led to Elektra dropping the group. Just before Bl_ck B_st_rds was officially shelved in 1993, Subroc was killed in a hit-and-run accident. (The album finally got an official release in 2001.)

20110510-comedy-r&b-560x225.jpg Humor in soul music hasn't been the same since everyone went hardcore in the late '80s. These days, if you want to cut a joke, you can't just make a corny novelty song like Bobby Jimmy & the Critters' "Roaches." You've got to do it cool and use plenty of ironic asides, sly put-downs and slang-filled allusions.

R&B comedy may not be as broad as the good ol' days of Rufus Thomas and George Clinton, but it's still full of cheating spouses, smack-talking ladies and ornery men. In short, battles and truces between the sexes comprise the dominant theme, and the humor comes from the farcical situations that ensue, whether it's Trey Songz claiming that "I Invented Sex" or Missy Elliott claiming she doesn't want a "One Minute Man." Consider this an introductory lesson on how ribald R&B can get (if not necessarily pornographic — after all, this is a family blog), triggering sometimes-uncomfortable laughter when we realize that these would-be players are just like us.

Rap Skits and Snaps

20110510-comedy-rap-560x225.jpg Before we begin, please note that this isn't a collection of comedic rap songs, so you won't find any material from some of the genre's greatest humorists, such as E-40, Biz Markie, Redman and Slick Rick. Instead, we're focusing on rap skits (only the intentionally funny ones) and rap songs featuring samples from comedians. That narrows the field quite a bit, as the rap skit is turning into a lost art, and today's producers tend to sample old records for drums and melodies rather than weave crazy-quilt masterpieces like De La Soul's 3 Feet High and Risin'. Also note that this list doesn't include any joints from Big Boi's Sir Lucious Left Foot, and the Wu-Tang Clan has made too many great skits to use them all. Despite all the necessary omissions, though, "Rap Skits and Snaps" has plenty of ignorance, from Dr. Dre's silly "The $20 Sack Pyramid" to Ghostface Killah's perverse "Heart Street Directions" to Wu-Tang's "Who stole my killa tape?" interlude. It's got chicken heads and base heads, and Redd Foxx, Dolemite and Richard Pryor rise from the dead. It's even got Aqua Teen Hunger Force and Scooby-Doo for the kiddies. Break!

Click here to listen to the entire playlist: Rap Skits and Snaps


Roundup: R&B, May 2011

20110503-r&b-RU-560x225-2.jpg The world of soul music may not generate as much product as rock or hip-hop, but it tends to have an outsized impact. Two of this year's best-selling records thus far came from Adele and Marsha Ambrosius, while Chris Brown's comeback album may be the most controversial. Beyond the headliners, there were troubadours like Noel Gourdin, Anthony David and Ginuwine, men who exemplified vintage R&B, and a lineage that stretches back to the late Teddy Pendergrass. Whether it's the Afropean neo-soul of Les Nubians or the dance pop gospel of Jennifer Hudson, when you hear soul music, you know it.


1. Adele
21
Adele's shtick seems to be album titles that correspond to her age - and completely belie the old soul inside. Her sophomore album, 21, sounds like no 21-year-old. Adele spends most of it dominating styles she has no business knowing how to sing so intuitively, from the rafters-shaking, revival-ready "Rolling in the Deep" to the big, brassy '70s rock of "I'll Be Waiting." Elsewhere, she croons weathered ballads that sound more lovelorn than someone so young should (see "Turning Tables," a "Chasing Pavements" redux down to the syllabic structure). It won't help a wider audience find her, but those who do will be rewarded. — Rachel Devitt

20110503-beastie-boys-560x225.jpg A blog post about the lyrical evolution of the Beastie Boys seems counterintuitive. Back in 1999, when the group capped an amazing decade with the Sounds of Science collection, their party-rocking rhymes seemed beside the point. Then at the height of their influence, Mike D, King Ad-Rock and MCA were famed for, in short order, virtually inventing rapcore, taking sampladelica to the outer limits, and wedding Jimmy Smith organ funk with massive Led Zep drums. Their vocals were just part of the sound's noisy static, and a familiar entry point for a frat-boy base raised on debut Licensed to Ill, one of the most sampled hip-hop albums ever, a status mostly earned for the group's crazy vocal tones, from Ad-Rock's whiny Brooklynese ("Umm ... drop!!") to MCA's phlegmatic rasp ("Pump it up, homeboy!").

Hip-Hop Roundup: April

20110427-hip-hop-RU-560x225.jpg
In recent weeks we've seen major hip-hop releases from Wiz Khalifa, Snoop Dogg and Atmosphere. But we're still waiting for a true blockbuster in 2011, the kind of album that forces every rap fan, whether a Dirty South advocate or a backpack nerd, to listen and form an opinion on it. We can't help but remember that last year was a slow build that eventually led to Drake's Thank Me Later, Kanye West's My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy and, uh, Waka Flocka Flame's Flockaveli. Perhaps 2011 will be the same.

Click here to listen to the complete playlist: April 2011 Rap Albums Sampler


1. Atmosphere
The Family Sign
With a sound reminiscent of 1990s slacker rock, the Atmosphere of 2011 has strayed far from Lucy Ford and its "emo-rap" salad days. No longer just Slug and Ant, the group has expanded to a five-piece band, and it makes a racket of loose grooves and echoing guitars on The Family Sign. Slug remains an underrated storyteller, delivering a haunting tale of a camper eaten by wolves on "Became" and cautioning an abused woman on "The Last to Say." Sometimes he undermines himself with corny hooks, though, adding "Bad Bad Daddy" to a decent lyric about an alcoholic father. — Mosi Reeves


20110419-canadian-rap-560x225.jpg Let's face it: Aubrey Drake Graham is the first Canadian rapper that got much love from Americans. I would guess that Drake's fans never knew there was a vital northern hip-hop scene, and they're more likely to compare him to Justin Bieber than K-OS, one of his major influences and a genuine Canadian star, albeit only a cult figure in the U.S.

However, Canadian rap has trickled across the border for decades, from the late '80s and Maestro Fresh Wes to the early '90s, when Dream Warriors drew acclaim for And Now, the Legacy Begins and the Main Source impacted the New York rap world with "Looking at the Front Door." It has since developed a regional flavor distinct from that of the U.S. Canadian artists tend to value old-school rap ideals about social awareness and everyday life struggles over current American obsessions with sex in the club and hardcore gangster-ism. As Classified put it on his 2010 hit album Handshakes and Middle Fingers, which is getting an American release this month via Decon Records: "Still doing rap like the 1990s/ But that's how we like it, off-time and grimy."

cheat_sheet_top_header_560x62.jpg 20110412-rhymesayers-560x225.jpg Initially formed in Minneapolis in 1994 as an outlet for cassette-only recordings, Rhymesayers have grown from a modest rap collective to perhaps the biggest indie rap label in the country (albeit distributed by Warner Bros.' Independent Label Group). In some ways, Rhymesayers earned that distinction just by being the last brand name standing because the indie rap scene is a shell of its former turn-of-the-century glory. But its roster of multiracial musical revolutionaries, from albino Muslim Brother Ali to crustcore emcee P.O.S., have loyal audiences, too. In 2008, flagship artist Atmosphere saw their When Life Gives You Lemons, You Paint That Sh*t Gold debuted in the top five of the album charts. It's the arrival of Atmosphere's new album, The Family Sign, as well as Columbus, Ohio, rapper Blueprint's Adventures in Counter-Culture that warrant this overview of the Rhymesayers catalog.

While reading, check out our Rhymesayers Primer playlist.


Brother Ali
The Undisputed Truth
Brother Ali's bruising delivery and acidic punch lines hide his tortured soul. Lead-off track "Whatcha Got" is all blood and bluster, with Ali declaring "the champ is back" over an Amp beat that wouldn't have sounded out of place on Fear of a Black Planet. Later, the bear shrinks into a cub as he's confronted with a schizo wife and a depressing worldview. In his own words, Ali is "a thugged-out nerd," the sort of guy who eats "organic vegetables mixed with fast food" and claims he's somewhere between Howard Zinn and Howard Stern. — Sam Chennault

senior_year-banner-560x60.jpg 20110401-SY-1965-gogo-560x225.jpg Here at Rhapsody, none of us were high school age back in 1965, so we can only imagine what a genuine go-go was like. Our thoughts turn to the scene in Malcolm X when his assassins tour the Audubon Ballroom during a youth dance the night before he was killed, casing the joint while kids shuffle and stomp to Junior Walker's "Shotgun." Or here's a happier example: all the incredible Motown sounds heard during the 1976 teen flick Cooley High, an evocative depiction of black urban life in 1960s Philadelphia. The iconic Detroit label was at the height of its glory, issuing classics like The Four Tops' "I Can't Help Myself (Sugar Pie)," Martha and the Vandellas' "Nowhere to Run," and Stevie Wonder's "Uptight." It released so many great singles that we had to leave out a few, or else we wouldn't have space for the great Otis Redding, James Brown, The Impressions, and Fontella Bass of "Rescue Me" fame. Even if we weren't doing the twist on American Bandstand or doing the alligator when these golden oldies blasted out of AM radio, we'd be fools to not see that 1965 was an incredible year for soul.

Click here to listen to the complete playlist: Senior Year, 1965: Going to a Go-Go


20110329-chris-brown-kanye-560x225.jpg What is the cost of forgiveness? Chris Brown might be finding out. In recent months he has tweaked his image from a cherubic teen pop star broken by scandal to a blond and heavily-tattooed player flipping the "Deuces" to ex-girlfriends and haters alike. He released some of his best songs to date, including the aforementioned "Deuces," "Look at Me Now" and "Yeah 3x." Improbably, and despite recalcitrant pop radio support for those singles, he landed his first No. 1 album with his comeback album, F.A.M.E. But no matter what he does, many will never forgive him for assaulting Rihanna on the eve of the 2010 Grammy Awards.

Brown can take solace in the plight of Kanye West, who has also struggled to rehabilitate himself after a disastrous (and silly) national scandal. Instead of trying to woo back fans with a teary apology à la Brown's "Man in the Mirror" performance at last year's BET Awards, West focused attention on the one thing in his control: his music. The result, My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, made us remember that West is an incredible musician, regardless of his personal failings. (And yes, I am aware that he does not play analog instruments, did not create most of the beats for Fantasy and, as Quincy Jones retorted to comparisons between himself and West, does not write classical and jazz arrangements for orchestras. George Clinton didn't play an instrument, either. West's talents include vocals and production, and synthesizing disparate elements into a greater whole.)

cheat_sheet_top_header_560x62.jpg 20110322-dirty-south-CS-560x225.jpg Just as the East Coast hip-hop industry experienced its renaissance in the mid-'90s, so did the South's. The latter wasn't a musical revolution, at least in terms of beats. Southern artists still took their cues from the West Coast and producers like Dr. Dre, Ant Banks and DJ Pooh. A new breed of musicians, including Organized Noize, Jazze Pha and Pimp C, re-interpreted the G-funk sound into lush, bluesy soul, from Outkast's "Players Ball" to 8Ball and MJG's "Space Age Pimpin'."

The Dirty South era lasted roughly from 1994, when Outkast's seminal Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik was released, to 1996. This was when some of the region's greatest voices outgrew its reliance on the bloody gangster tales pioneered by the Geto Boys, looked past the silly booty bass novelty of Luke's 2 Live Crew, and emerged as a reputable area of hip-hop expression. And that's not a dis against booty bass, a subgenre that must be saved for a future article. Actually, it was the evolution of booty bass into New Orleans bounce, as heard on Master P's Ghetto D and B.G.'s Chopper City, as well as crunk and DJ Screw's "screwed and chopped" sound, that effectively ended the Dirty South era. Everywhere, hip-hop shifted its focus from the streets to the clubs — although, then and now, the urban experience remained the genre's backbone.

Hip-hop fans often celebrate the East Coast and, to a lesser extent, West Coast classics of the mid-'90s, but we sometimes overlook the South's contribution, save for undisputed legends Outkast, Scarface and Goodie Mob, whose "Dirty South" single gave the era its name. This cheat sheet doesn't cover every classic album from those years, but it may help you dig deeper.


20110316-nate-dogg-560x225.jpg Nathaniel Dwayne "Nate Dogg" Hale, who tragically passed away at the age of 41 on the night of March 15, was hip-hop's ghetto troubadour. There were other hip-hop singers that came before him, from the vocally-inclined Cold Crush Brothers and Fantastic Five to Biz Markie's right-hand man TJ Swann. But Nate Dogg was the first to fully complement the MCs he performed with, and not just serve as an out-of-tune foil. He was akin to a great character actor who effortlessly stole scenes from the headliners. His deep baritone and unapologetically gangsta persona defined the G-funk era just as inimitably as Dr. Dre and Snoop Dogg. Ice Cube put it best on Westside Connection's "Gangsta Nation": "It must be a single with Nate Dogg singin' on it."

Though Nate Dogg is inextricably connected with West Coast hip-hop, his deep catalog of side appearances and three solo albums (most notably 2001's Music and Me) ranges from Mos Def's and Pharoahe Monch's "Oh No" to Ludacris' "Area Codes." When "Oh No" was released in 2000, those two stalwarts of independent hip-hop came under heavy criticism from their fans for allegedly selling out. In hindsight, it's clear that "Oh No" was more than just a commercial ploy; Nate Dogg enjoyed widespread respect in the rap industry, even among those who considered themselves opposed to the mainstream. It didn't hurt that Nate Dogg helped Mos Def and Pharoahe Monch achieve their only top 40 hit to date. He tended to do that. Even 50 Cent scored one of his biggest hits when Nate Dogg sang the chorus on "21 Questions."

Other Nate Dogg jewels include his smooth-yet-rough refrain on Dr. Dre's "Deeez Nuuuts" ("I can't be faded, I'm a n*gg* from the muthaf*ck*n street") and his deliciously obscene verse on Snoop Dogg's "Ain't No Fun (If The Homies Can't Have None)" (" 'Cause I never met a girl/ That I loved in the whole wide world"). My personal favorite was on Shade Sheist's "Where I Wanna Be." It personifies how Nate Dogg could completely overtake a song, leaving you to believe that the song is his alone. I can't remember Shade Sheist's verse and can barely recall Kurupt's, but Nate Dogg's evocative chorus rings in my head: "Where I wanna be/ Right here with my loved ones." Cruising with the homies as the sun sets on a West Coast day - that was the essence of Nate Dogg.

For further listening, check out Rhapsody's Tribute to Nate Dogg playlist.
20110315-rap-rock-560x225.jpgRap rock hasn't changed much since Run-DMC recruited the reluctant Joe Perry and Steven Tyler to appear on a remake of "Walk This Way" 25 years ago, and not only landed the first hip-hop Top 10 smash, but also helped revitalize Aerosmith's career. Then as now, the formula appears the same: loud guitars, loud drums, loud keyboards, and everything mixed really loud, while an emcee or three raps about how hard the beat is and adopts their most annoying "everybody get out their seats right now!" concert voice.

Hip-Hop Roundup

20110308-Hip-Hop-RU-560x225.jpg The rap season has begun to heat up with this week's arrival of Raekwon and Lupe Fiasco's new albums. But the previous two months brought a handful of solid fare, too, from Saigon, Joell Ortiz and Slaughterhouse. Check out our Roundup for a sampler of the latest hip-hop discs.

Joell Ortiz
Free Agent
Joell Ortiz's improbable comeback continues with Free Agent. Technically a reference to his aborted deal with Dr. Dre's Aftermath Records, it charts the Bronx bomber's struggle to bring raw lyricism to an industry overridden with pop gimmicks. "Watching all these corny n*ggas come up it was aggravating," he says in "One Shot (Killed for Less)," one of several tracks that blend Ortiz's gritty raps with bluesy rock beats. Just Blaze delivers an insane beat for "Battle Cry," and an Al Green loop backs "Call Me (She Said)," Ortiz's bittersweet tale of high school heartbreak.


20110301-cali-swag-rap-560x225.jpg Last year, I discussed Atlanta's seemingly indestructible swag-rap trend. But I didn't note the influence it has had on other regions around the country. Just as its crunk and snap precedents had an impact beyond hip-hop music (in fact, some claim that crunk inspired dubstep — Google it), the swag aesthetic has permeated the pop consciousness, and the West Coast in particular.

West Coast swag is very different from its Atlanta counterpart. Bay Area hyphy and mobb music play a role, as does L.A. G-funk and the electro-pop fad (though few will admit the latter). It has had strange offshoots, too, from the teen-driven "jerkin'" dance soundtracks of New Boyz and Cali Swag District to the skater gothicism of Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All.

senior_year-banner-560x60.jpg 20110301-SY-after-school-rap-vids-560x225.jpg Rap videos were mad fun in 1988. Remember all the crazy cameos in Public Enemy’s “Night of the Living Baseheads,” from DJ Red Alert as a news producer and MC Lyte as an reporter busting Wall Street coke fiends to comedian Chris Thomas cracking jokes about a family of baseheads? Or how about Kid ’N Play’s “Rollin' with Kid ‘N Play,” when the duo launched a food fight with Salt-n-Pepa and Herbie the Love Bug? If you were a homeboy looking fresh in a Starter jacket or a fly girl styling in a bootleg Mickey and Minnie Mouse T-shirt (the one with the “Yobabyyobabyyo” phrase on it) with matching dookie earrings, then chances are you spent plenty of afternoons watching videos, whether it was Yo! MTV Raps with Fab Five Freddy, Video Soul with Donnie Simpson and Video Vibrations with the Unseen VJ on rival network BET, or even regional programs like New York’s Video Music Box with Ralph McDaniels. We can’t show you those videos, but we can relive the memories with this selection of classics from the golden age of hip-hop. Pump it, homeboy!

Click here to listen to the entire playlist: Senior Year, 1988: After-School Rap Videos


Black Outsiders

20110222-black-outsiders-560x225.jpg Before we get started, it bears remembering that the black community is not monolithic. There are various segments within it just like any other. Just as there is a pop mainstream, there is a black equivalent, too. Historically speaking, black radio programmers can be more conservative than their white counterparts. Stars have long complained of being unable to crack black radio playlists, from Bob Marley to Public Enemy, who recorded "Bring the Noise" in response to black stations' boycott of hardcore rap music.

What makes an outsider, anyway? Some innovators, like Betty Davis, drew a negative response from audiences in general. Others — like Shuggie Otis, Fishbone, N.E.R.D. and Blackalicious — have a following that is mostly white. Conversely, even radio-approved black stars can attract the ire of black fans, such as Whitney Houston, who was famously booed at the 1990 Soul Train Awards for allegedly being a pop sellout. In other words, take this list with a grain of salt.


cheat_sheet_top_header_560x62.jpg 20110222-black-innovators-560x225.jpg It's impossible to summarize the contributions of black musicians to our cultural history with a few random albums. Some of the innovators we could not fit into this short list include Prince, Whitney Houston, Mary J. Blige, Max Roach, Jimi Hendrix, Chic, Sam Cooke, The O'Jays, Lauryn Hill, the Supremes, Big Mama Thornton, Salt-n-Pepa and Ella Fitzgerald.

Just because it is relatively easy to pay tribute during Black History Month does not mean it's unnecessary. Whether you support or oppose President Obama, consider yourself part of the progressive wing or the conservative movement, it would be hard to deny that racial and class conflicts have steadily increased during the past few years. The recent controversy over a dearth of rap and R&B winners in major categories at the 2011 Grammy Awards, mostly waged at the expense of Arcade Fire's surprising and commendable win for Album of the Year, is just one relatively superficial example of how balkanized and oppositional our country has become.

20110208-r-kelly-SM-560x225.jpg Released in late 1993, 12 Play isn't R. Kelly's best album, or even his most successful one. But it may be his most important work. All of the hallmarks of the eventual and unquestioned king of R&B are here, from the smooth bump-in-the-night bass rhythms to the brazenly hardcore come-ons. Unlike Teddy Riley, who often appropriated hip-hop trends at the expense of soul traditions, Kelly remained faithful to the legacies of the Isley Brothers, Stevie Wonder, and other pioneers. He merged the oft-conflicting worlds of quiet storm balladry and New Jack Swing, innovating a contemporary R&B style that has lasted to the present day (or at least until Timbaland reinvented the genre all over again a few years later).

Despite all that, 12 Play is a transitional work. Kelly began his career as a singing and rapping hybrid, first as part of the unheralded group MGM, and then as leader of Public Announcement, who released the platinum debut Born into the 90s in 1991. He offered five pop-rap tunes on 12 Play, some better than others. But even the relatively successful "Homie Lover Friend" and "Back to the Hood of Things" pale in comparison to classic Kelly ballads like "Your Body's Callin'." Pop-rap, exemplified by smooth lover men like Heavy D and LL Cool J, was still a viable commercial genre in 1993, but even then it was clear that Kelly was much better as a vocalist and songwriter.

20110201-overlooked-hip-hop-RU-560x225.jpg The world of rap music can be expansive and reductive at once. We tend to talk about the same handful of artists and albums, swapping out names according to their buzz at the moment. But the fact is that hundreds of rap albums get released during a calendar year. Some deserve to get ignored, but many undeservedly fall through the cracks.

This is a good time to collect last year's overlooked albums before 2011 kicks into high gear. Even this post is missing a few titles due to space considerations, including Fabolous' There Is No Competition 2: The Grieving Music Mixtape, Rakaa's Crown of Thorns, and Celph Titled and Buckwild's Nineteen Ninety Now. While it's unlikely we'll get another shot at 2010 — this year has already delivered Talib Kweli's Gutter Rainbows and will bring new albums from Beans, Rye Rye and others in the next few weeks — this roundup proves that rap music has plenty of undocumented territory worth exploring.


David Banner & 9th Wonder
Death of a Popstar

David Banner has always straddled the line between delivering social criticism from a Dirty South perspective and indulging in country decadence. The difference with Death of a Popstar is that he jettisons the pimp talk, and when he talks about women on the lush single "Be With You," it's with sincerity and respect. On tracks like "Strange" and "Something Is Wrong," Banner sounds concerned, as if the state of black people moved him to deliver insistently political rhymes, pop markets be damned. Meanwhile, 9th Wonder lends his typical blend of deeply soulful beats, and even spits a nice rhyme for "Silly."


Gucci Mane
Burrrprint 2 [HD]

Burrrprint 2 opened with "Intro Live from Fulton County Jail," with Gucci Mane rapping over the phone while serving one of his many prison sentences. On this retail mixtape, he reaffirms his ghetto celebrity, while Nicki Minaj, Rick Ross, Yo Gotti and others lend support. Some will claim that Burrrprint 2 is the "real Gucci Mane," while studio albums like The Appeal, released later in 2010, are just his fitful attempts to launch a mainstream career. And indeed, Gucci seems comfortable amidst the "Coca Coca" talk and hard Dirty South beats. However, a few Burrrprint 2 moments, such as Ludacris rapping about guns on "Atlanta Zoo," sound wildly implausible.


20110125-hot-producers-560x225.jpg Remember the '90s, when production giants like DJ Premier, Da Beatminerz, the RZA and Pete Rock were often as famous as the rappers they toiled for? That era has passed. So, too, is the early 2000s, when super-producers like Timbaland, Scott Storch, the Neptunes and Lil Jon could charge up to $100,000 a beat.

Rap musicianship has since retreated to the background, as well as the theory that great producers have a recognizable sound signature and a style that is unmistakably theirs. Today's legion of producers use a variety of styles — whether it's club-rattling crunk or urban radio-baiting babymaker grooves — to win placements on major-label projects. They're better known to rap geeks than casual fans. But that may soon end. A few of them, particularly Lex Luger and Boi-1da, have the potential to command the kind of attention their predecessors once did. At stake is the notion that hip-hop culture is about more than just an emcee — even at the highly corporatized major level, musicians and engineers can contribute just as much to a hit as a star vocalist.

Lex Luger
Key Tracks: Waka Flocka Flame's "Hard in Da Paint"; Jay-Z and Kanye West's "H.A.M."; and Rick Ross' "B.M.F. (Blowin' Money Fast)" and "MC Hammer"
Style: Lex Luger killed 2010 with "Hard in Da Paint" and "B.M.F. (Blowin' Money Fast)." Both touted pop-operatic hooks that hearkened to Lil Jon in his prime; "Hard in Da Paint" in particular recalled John Williams' "Imperial March Theme." Luger's work on "H.A.M." is just a sequel to these massive anthems and an ego-stroking exercise for two of the genre's biggest stars, but it proves that he has carved an inescapable niche at only 19 years of age.

Cheat Sheet: Madlib

cheat_sheet_top_header_560x62.jpg20110118-madlib-560x225.jpg Last year, Otis "Madlib" Jackson, Jr., made plans for a Madlib Medicine Show: 12 releases consisting of six albums of original material and six mixtapes of songs by other artists. It proved a failure, with just nine installments reaching market, including a 10th chapter and no ninth. Add those discs to gigs producing Strong Arm Steady's In Search of Stoney Jackson and Guilty Simpson's OJ Simpson, and excursions such as Young Jazz Rebels' Slave Riot and the Last Electro-Acoustic Space Jazz & Percussion Ensemble's Miles Away, and that only made for … 13 releases in 2010. Amusingly, Madlib couldn't finish the Medicine Show, but he couldn't curb his excessive productivity, either.

Madlib is an unapologetic throwback to the pop and jazz years of the '50s and '60s, when musicians would simply participate in recording sessions, and labels would compile albums from the best material. This could lead to several titles a year from best-selling bandleaders like Miles Davis and Frank Sinatra — a far cry from the new-every-two strategy employed by today's pop stars. Madlib functions the same way as his heroes: he records constantly, and occasionally stops to compile the results into yet another release.

Thanks to classics such as Quasimoto's The Unseen and Madvillain's Madvillainy, Madlib is regarded as one of the greatest hip-hop artists of the past decade. Unlike Timbaland, The Neptunes, Just Blaze, Kanye West or even J Dilla, he remains an underground phenomenon, issuing nearly all his material on indie imprint Stones Throw Records. Certainly, he has never had a mainstream hit. However, major artists with an appreciation for progressive beats have sought him out: he made tracks for Erykah Badu's New Amerykah albums, Mos Def's The Ecstatic, and Ghostface Killah's More Fish. Rumors abound that he contributed tracks to Kanye's My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, and that he may land some credits on Kanye West and Jay-Z's forthcoming Watch the Throne. It's impossible to understand the genre's recent developments without listening to his work.

With the reclusive producer set to restart the Medicine Show series this month with No. 11: Low Budget Hi-Fi Music, it's a good time to take a deep dive into the Madlib Invazion.


Lootpack
Soundpieces: Da Antidote!
Madlib, MC Wildchild and DJ Romes were part of the Likwit Crew, a collective of emcees and producers led by Tha Alkaholiks, and made a few appearances on the latter's three albums. (Check out "WLIX" for an example of vintage Lootpack in effect.) Spending years deep in the cut, the Lootpack generated a massive backlog of material that began to reach the public via Soundpieces: Da Antidote! Released in 1999, the long-gestating 24-track debut fascinated and overwhelmedz most listeners. In spite of the deluge, Soundpieces' generally high quality made it clear that the Madlib Invazion had just begun.


20110111-anticipated-hip-hop-560x225.jpg The rap world will find it hard to top 2010, a year where B.o.B., Nicki Minaj and Wiz Khalifa introduced themselves to the masses, Eminem reclaimed his crown as the music industry’s biggest star, and Kanye West issued his critically lauded gem My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy. For now, we only have questions. Can Dr. Dre’s Detox live up to the hype? Will Jay Electronica finally release an album? And can Wiz Khalifa convert his hit single “Black & Yellow” into a popular album? Meanwhile, just as FaR*eAst Movement did last year, a few dark horses will unexpectedly emerge to steal the show.


Jay-Z & Kanye West, Watch the Throne (March)
Chummy superstar collaborations rarely make for great music. For every Madvillainy, a zippy masterpiece penned by a raw and hungry Madlib and MF Doom, there are more of The Best of Both Worlds, a daffy Cristal-fueled afterthought Jay-Z and R. Kelly recorded between nightclub jaunts. Jay's involved in this one, too, and worryingly it is slated to appear in March, fueling suspicions that it was made quickly and perhaps sloppily. The key to Watch the Throne is the mercurial Kanye West. If we hear the perfectionist "toast to the douche bags" Kanye we know and love (to hate), then we may get the rare rap summit that actually bangs.

20101214-HIP-HOP-best-of-2010-560x225.jpg This may be the year when hip-hop artists re-embraced the mainstream. Big, soaring choruses; glittery guest appearances; and allusions to mall-rocking pop and rock sounds all cropped up on 2010's most successful works. If the resulting list of one writer's favorites lacks street swagger, it's because there wasn't much of it, at least when it came to official albums. (The mixtape scene, led by Big K.R.I.T., Kendrick Lamar, Lil B, J. Cole and others, is an entirely different story.

Fans, artists and critics were bitterly divided over the toned-down aggression of this year's best. They universally hailed Kanye West's My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy and Curren$y's Pilot Talk, but argued noisily over Drake's Thank Me Later and B.o.B's The Adventures of Bobby Ray, claiming that the latter strayed from real hip-hop values. Importantly, they seemed uncomfortable with the idea that hip-hop could absorb all forms of popular music, not just a narrower urban street ethos. However, rap trends are notoriously short, and it would not be surprising if 2011's group of contenders swing the pendulum in the opposite direction and re-embrace the virtues of hardcore hip-hop. Enjoy 2010 while you still can.


While reading, listen to our list for The Best Songs of 2010: Hip-Hop.

20.
Skyzoo & Illmind
Live from the Tape Deck
Live from the Tape Deck, a collaboration between rapper Skyzoo and producer Illmind, is not only a throwback to classical values, but also a metaphor for "doing the right thing," as several interludes derived from Spike Lee's 1989 film reminds us. So in spite of being "critically acclaimed and underrated at the same time," Skyzoo eschews industry gimmicks in favor of dense lyricism, from setting the proverbial "Kitchen Table" to tossing "Frisbees." Illmind's beats are reminiscent of Black Milk's excellent Tronic, adding hardcore electronic bangers that enhance this purist hip-hop experience. — Mosi Reeves


Hip-Hop Roundup

20101206-hip-hop-RU-560x225.jpg With 2010 defined by the emcee and his crossover ambitions, from B.o.B's multidisciplinary The Adventures of Bobby Ray to urban radio paeans from Young Money, Bun B and Rick Ross, it's only appropriate that Kanye West, the era's most influential hitmaker, gave a master class on achieving those dreams. My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy may set a new benchmark for musical excellence, but it's not the only new album of note this season. Offerings from Kid Cudi, Nicki Minaj and even an incarcerated T.I. help bolster claims that this has been one of the best years for the genre in some time. Meanwhile, Curren$y, Yelawolf and N.E.R.D. subtly expanded the hip-hop vocabulary with standout material.


Curren$y
Pilot Talk II
For anyone who thrilled to Curren$y's excellent major-label debut, Pilot Talk II, released a mere five months after Pilot Talk, offers more of the same. This sequel may sound overly familiar since the New Orleans rapper, Trademark Da Skydiver and Smoke DZA predictably riff on "good weed and broads, spaceships and stars." However, rewind material abounds, from the zoned-out grooves of "Michael Knight" to the languid guitar strolls on "A Gee." "Ain't nothing changed but the weather," he says on "Famous," and his ability to elucidate his bourgeois ambitions with sharp lyricism is all that matters.


20101130-jay-z-SM-560x225.jpg When Jay-Z released Reasonable Doubt in the summer of 1996, few heard it as a major work. Some critics praised the album's intricately rendered storyline — a drug dealer who wants to reform his life. Others gave it strong reviews while noting similarities to Mafioso rap titles such as Raekwon's Only Built 4 Cuban Linx, as well as Jay-Z's friendship with Brooklyn don The Notorious B.I.G. Then as now, Jay-Z drew fussy criticism for being a master stylist, not an innovator.

There was a lot riding on Reasonable Doubt. Damon Dash and Kareem "Biggs" Burke, his business partners in Roc-A-Fella Records, stoked feverish anticipation among New York tastemakers for Jay-Z's debut. The 26-year-old emcee had kicked around the industry for a decade, first appearing as a sidekick to mentor Jaz-O, and then landing guest shots with Big Daddy Kane, Original Flavor and others. A deal with Payday Records, which yielded the 1995 buzz single "In My Lifetime," had fallen through, so the Roc-A-Fella team joined forces with Priority Records. Many in the industry felt that Reasonable Doubt was Jay-Z's best and last shot at stardom.

Today, Reasonable Doubt is hailed as one of the greatest debuts in the hip-hop canon. Despite the album's familiar contours, Jay-Z dazzles with his use of metaphors and phrases with double meanings. His lyrics are ever-flowing. He has since become famous for reciting them from memory, but if he actually wrote them down on paper they would have tumbled off the page. "Confidentially speaking in code" and dropping rhymes that demand repeat listens, he employs technical virtuosity as a contrast to the palpable emotion in his performance. "Can I live?" he asks, but it sounds like a demand. You can hear the hunger and pain in his voice.

Reasonable Doubt is one of the last great albums of New York's mid-'90s boom-bap period. Yet it presciently revealed how the era would evolve from realistic and remorseful street themes to the unrepentant cartoon violence of thug rap. The period's cool and melancholy jazz and downtempo grooves soon yielded to "jiggy" and club bounce. By including both the languid "Dead Presidents II" and the bumping "Ain't No N*gga," Jay-Z proved that he had not only learned from the culture's glorious underground past, but would be a leader in its glittery mainstream future.

The following spring, The Notorious B.I.G.'s posthumous Life After Death and Diddy's No Way Out would change East Coast hip-hop forever. Jay-Z was the heir apparent.


Kanye's Mentors

20101122-KANYE-SG_mentors_560x225.jpg Over the course of four platinum-plus albums, Kanye West has proved a master at incorporating others into his work. He has collaborated with everyone from the Game and Rick Ross to Bon Iver and T-Pain, yet star-studded collaborations never overshadow his unique musical vision.

Much like Kanye's albums, which usually find him working with the biggest urban acts of the moment, his influences - at least judging from interviews - tend to consist of the usual suspects, whether it's "golden age" legends like Pete Rock, DJ Premier and the RZA and mainstream titans like Dr. Dre and Diddy's Hitmen. More recently, Kid Cudi's "Day 'N Nite" made such a huge impact on Kanye that he signed him to his G.O.O.D. Music imprint; and invited the Cleveland-raised singer-songwriter to contribute to his all-singing detour 808s and Heartbreak.

20101122-KANYE SG_review_560x225.jpg To understand why My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy earns its title, sounds both sensuously epic and a bit of a dick joke, and manages to combine deep melancholy and triumphant hubris into a stunningly intense experience, let's backtrack to Kanye West's debut, 2003's College Dropout. On "Never Let Me Down," Kanye multitracked John Legend and Tracie Spencer's backing vocals into a full-blown gospel chorus as he ruminated on how his parents participated in lunch-counter sit-ins during the Civil Rights movement, and how that legacy made him different. "Nigg*s can't make it to ballots to choose leadership/ But we can make it to Jacob's and to the dealership/ That's why I hear new music and I just don't be feeling it," he rapped. Matched against Kanye's earnestness, Jay-Z's Cristal-stained boasts sounded woefully out of place.

Seven years later, Kanye has become another errant choir boy. His religious upbringing and Black History Month studies help him make outrageous claims of being a pharaoh, a deity similar to Allah himself. "Malcolm West had the whole nation standing at attention," he claims on "POWER." He speaks about light-skinned girls as if they were new Bentleys to be licked and humped. (Cue R. Kelly's "You Remind Me of My Jeep.") And suddenly, Jay Hova himself sounds right at home. He murders "Monster." Even Rick Ross, who repeats his familiar shtick of personifying big-balling hustlers on "Devil in a New Dress," sounds apropos to this tall tale of adult children lost in a world of designer clothes, luxury vehicles and scantily clad women, with TMZ and Gawker keeping score. Brilliantly, Kanye couches these fantasies in a hip-hop context. By inviting the aforementioned plus the RZA, Pusha T, Swizz Beatz, Raekwon and Kid Cudi, he demonstrates that materialism and hubris are essential to understanding hip-hop culture as it is lived, if not necessarily how Kool Herc and Afrika Bambaataa first envisioned it. As Pusha T says on "Runaway," "I'm just young, rich and tasteless."


20101116-dr-dre-SM-560x225.jpg Classic albums are built in part with mythology. Our impressions of how they were made, the circumstances under which they were recorded, and the influence they wield over us are often subjective, yet we treat them with reverence, as if they were just as important as the music itself. Such truths and half-truths surround The Chronic, Dr. Dre's 1992 solo debut and one of a handful of titles that can arguably be called the greatest rap album of all time.

There is the story of how Dr. Dre split from the legendary N.W.A. and recruited several vocalists from Long Beach to help him record The Chronic, including Snoop Dogg, RBX, Tha Dogg Pound and Nate Dogg. There is the story of how Dr. Dre was so broke from lawsuits with his former group that he and the young artists spent all their waking and sleeping hours in the studio. Then there is its release: how the video for the lead single, "Nuthin' but a 'G' Thang," struck a chord with its realistic portrayal of daily ghetto life, and how Snoop Dogg and Dr. Dre's "like this, like that, and like this and a …" mic-trading routine created a link back to the Bronx old school, positing the song as a masterpiece with deep roots. And then there was the universal acclaim, and how some fans consider it a perfect work.

There are many more stories surrounding The Chronic, particularly those involving Suge Knight, the notorious record executive who funded its creation. But let's set aside the myths for now and concentrate on the music. Much more focused than, say, Public Enemy's It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back (another candidate in the G.O.A.T. sweepstakes), it is essentially Dr. Dre's interpretation of 1970s funk for a people who came of age during an era of crack, gang-banging, the Rodney King beating and the L.A. uprising. The beats hit harder than George Clinton could have imagined, and they leave a bruise, too.


20101109-kid_cudi-560x225.jpg This post is inspired by a commenter on my recent piece about Eminem and his album Recovery. "Somebody's finally on the radio talking about NOT doing drugs. That's a good thing," wrote Halo in the comments section. "I know that it's tough being clean and still keeping it real."

Why has there been so little hip-hop that addresses drug and alcohol addiction? It's not as if rappers aren't abusing drugs: The tabloids are filled with their exploits, whether it's Lil Wayne serving time for drug possession, T.I. violating his probation over ecstasy tablets and codeine syrup, or Gucci Mane reportedly heading to rehab. It appears that the days when it was "cool" just to smoke weed are a thing of the past. Yet those personal struggles rarely make it into the music.

Kid Cudi's new album, Man on the Moon II: The Legend of Mr. Rager, offers a striking counterpoint to Eminem's Recovery. While Eminem related his drug problems like he was confessing at a Narcotics Anonymous meeting, Kid Cudi hides his troubles within ramblings about the pressures of fame. He celebrates his love of herb on "Mojo So Dope" — but marijuana's not a drug, right? However, he doesn't address his public struggle with cocaine, save for an audible snort during "All Along." Man on the Moon II reflects the rap community's general ambivalence toward party favors, and how overuse of them can destroy careers — and lives.

Post Obama Hip-Hop

20101102-post-obama-560x225.jpg If you want to know what rappers think about the country in the years following President Obama's 2008 election, then you'll have to read between the lines. For the most part, Obama's historic campaign was a topical fad and a way for the likes of Young Jeezy and Jay-Z to proclaim "My President is Black." In the months that followed, Obama continued to receive tacit approval from rappers like Nas and Lil Wayne ("My Generation"), Bun B ("Chuuch!"), and Big Boi ("Daddy Fat Sax"). "Our generation led by a black president/ Now how's that for change?" raps Lil Wayne.

However, there has been some criticism, most of it directed at the government's response to the Great Recession. On "The Best of Times," Phonte Coleman raps, "Poor folk need help, they call it welfare/ But rich need it, then you call it a bailout." He adds, "N*gga I'm black/ I was born in a financial crisis." Only a few have called out President Obama directly, and most of those have come from radical left voices. On "Runnin' Away," Immortal Technique says, "Get a black Pinocchio president to lead/ But controlled by an old white Geppetto on Wall Street." And P.O.S. uses "Let It Rattle" to criticize flesh-and-blood as well as paper presidents, asking "You think a president can represent you?"

20101102-indie-soul-560x225.jpg Earlier this year, The Foreign Exchange earned a Grammy nomination for "Daykeeper," a dreamy ballad filled with soft percussion and cooed phrasings of "she loves me." Cited for Best Urban/Alternative Performance, "Daykeeper," the lead single from 2008's Leave It All Behind, confirmed that the email correspondence between Durham, N.C., vocalist Phonte Coleman and Dutch producer Matthijs "Nicolay" Rook has blossomed into a fruitful creative partnership. While it ascends, Phonte's Little Brother, one of the more influential indie-rap groups of the past decade, lies in tatters. Having never truly recovered from the departure of producer 9th Wonder — although their third and final studio album, 2007's GetBack, was a valiant effort — remaining members Phonte and Big Pooh quietly wound down operations, then officially marked the group's end with this year's collection of outtakes, LeftBack.

The "rapper-ternt-sanga" phenomenon is well chronicled, as is the belief that singing offers a wider range of musical possibilities than rapping. (Whether it's true is fodder for another column.) However, just because Phonte wasn't the first rapper — and definitely won't be the last — to become a soul singer doesn't mean that he hasn't brought new ideas to the genre. Far from homogenous, he and other indie-rap artists like Aloe Blacc and Mayer Hawthorne have distinct identities. Each sounds different from the other, and their artistic quirks are transforming our perceptions of hip-hop music.

Hip-Hop Roundup

20101026-rap-roundup560x225.jpg The end of summer and beginning of fall could be described as "waiting for Kanye." His heavily promoted My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy got pushed back to November, while Nicki Minaj, Young Jeezy and Kid Cudi scheduled their albums for the same month, ensuring that 2010 will end with a bang. However, quite a few strong albums made it to market, from Gucci Mane's The Appeal: Georgia's Most Wanted to surprises like Atmosphere's To All My Friends, Blood Makes the Blade Holy and Skyzoo and Illmind's Live from the Tape Deck.

Here's a roundup of a few of the most noteworthy. Rest in peace, Michael "Eyedea" Larsen.

Atmosphere
To All My Friends, Blood Makes the Blade Holy

Slug may never get recognized as one of hip-hop's greatest storytellers, but he deserves to be. The Minneapolis rapper excels at the confessional, rhyming first-person narratives that are so vivid you think they were ripped straight from his diary. On To All My Friends, Blood Makes The Blade Holy, a pair of EPs packaged into a mini-album, Slug raps about vehicular homicide ("Scalp"), young love ("The Number None"), and drug-dealing homeboys ("The Major Leagues") as a backing band plays extended riffs and beery blues. It's not Lil Wayne, but it will more than do.


20101019-hip-hop-singles-560x225.jpg Here are a few impressions of the latest hip-hop hits.

Kanye West: "Runaway"
Charms: When West premiered "Runaway" during his closing performance at the 2010 MTV VMAs, he immediately lodged its chorus into audiences' memories: "Let's have a toast for the douchebags!" It sounds like a continuation of 808s & Heartbreak, with West appealing to our sympathy by exposing his frailties. Meanwhile, Pusha T from Clipse sums up the Jersey Shore generation with the line, "I'm just young, rich and tasteless."
Turnoffs: "Runaway" is so visceral that it's sloppy. However, the choppy MPC improvisations from West's VMA performance aren't on this version. Instead, we get heavy keyboard tones that are meant to signify emotion, yet come off as overwrought.
Verdict: With "Runaway," Kanye West proves yet again that he may be the most beguiling and infuriating figure in popular music.

Ski Beatz' Big Comeback

20101012-ski-beatz--560x225.jpg When Ski Beatz re-emerged this year as the main producer behind Curren$y's acclaimed Pilot Talk, people could scarcely believe it. Formerly known as Ski, he was one of the top producers of the mid-'90s. His smooth, elegantly constructed, '70s-inspired soul loops featured prominently on Jay-Z's first two albums (Ski also produced Jay-Z's first hit single, "In My Lifetime"), Lil' Kim's Hard Core and Camp Lo's Uptown Saturday Night. He then disappeared into the underground for several years before Damon Dash signed him to his new DD172 label.

cheat_sheet_top_header_560x62.jpg 20101012-rap-supergroups--560x225.jpg The mythical emcee is usually an egoist, often claiming credit for constructing a song himself (even though "ghostwriters" and others contribute lyrics more often than the public realizes) and relegating the producer to the background (even though producers not only create the beat, but sometimes the arrangements and even the hooks) and engineers to the liner notes (even though engineers often play a crucial role in the sound and vibe of an album). It's no surprise that, as hip-hop has become big business, classic groups of the '80s and '90s like Run-DMC and A Tribe Called Quest have fallen by the wayside, allowing the solo rapper to claim all the glory for himself, and maybe share a little bit with his crew.

This may be why "supergroups" have become essential to encouraging cultural unity. After all, it's easier to knock out a one-off album rather than try and sustain a functioning and disciplined group. These one-off collaborations weren't unheard-of in the '80s, but it was in the '90s via acclaimed projects like the Gravediggaz' 6 Feet Deep that they really caught on. The Gravediggaz and Method Man & Redman are classic examples of one-off projects that evolved into actual groups; meanwhile, other meetings of minds -- like Black Star and Deep Puddle Dynamics -- seem like rare comets never to be repeated in our lifetime (save for concert appearances and tours). This list compiles a few of the best.
20101004-gucci-mane-560x225.jpg Several years ago, I interviewed Radric "Gucci Mane" Davis at the office of his former label, Atlanta indie upstart Big Cat Records. He had just finished a six-month bid for assaulting a local promoter with a pool cue and had narrowly escaped indictment charges for killing a man during a failed invasion of his home — the now-infamous 2005 incident when former rival Young Jeezy allegedly sent a team of goons to snatch Gucci's chain — by claiming self-defense. As Gucci and I spoke, his lawyer and publicist listened closely, ready to interject if the conversation veered into a hazardous legal area.

But Gucci didn't seem like a violent felon. He was quiet, shy and articulate. He nervously revealed that he had completed some courses at Georgia Perimeter College before settling on a rap career and claimed that he made party music, not hardcore gangsta rap. "I'm a party rapper," he protested. "I like to get it crunk … dancefloor music, that's what I'm best at."

And there lies the contradiction at the heart of Gucci Mane's persona and his music. The Gucci catalog is an adult playpen, with debauched tributes to getting "Wasted" and proclamations that "Kush Is My Cologne." He delivers these club anthems with a nasal vocal tone reminiscent of Hanna-Barbera character Snagglepuss, cryptic Dirty South slang and plenty of wink-wink humor that makes it all seductive and carefree. "Is you rollin'?" asks a woman on "Pillz" from 2006's Hard to Kill. "B*tch I might be," he answers. For Gucci's first national hit, "Freaky Gurl," he interpolated Rick James' "Super Freak" with intentionally hilarious results: "She's a very freaky gurl/ Don't take her to mama/ First you get her name/ Then you get her number/ Then you get some brain in the back seat of a Hummer."
20100928-lauryn-hill-560x225.jpg Nearly 12 years after its release, Lauryn Hill's The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill towers as an essential piece of musical lore. With its legendary credit "produced, written, arranged and performed by Lauryn Hill" (a statement that would eventually lead to lawsuits from her production team, New Ark), The Miseducation won the first Album of the Year Grammy for a hip-hop album, and sold over five million copies. Then, amidst rumors of a nervous breakdown and the poorly received live album MTV Unplugged, Hill slowly retreated from the public eye; her comeback appearances on this year's Rock the Bells tour were a bittersweet affair. Her prolonged absence from music, coupled with the mainstream rap industry's continued devaluation of female artists, has made The Miseducation a commercial and artistic achievement that the hip-hop community has yet to equal.

Introducing Nicki Minaj

20100928-nicki-minaj-playlist-560x225.jpg Nicki Minaj isn't scheduled to release her debut album, Pink Friday, until November 23, but she's already a contender to be one of 2010's biggest artists. The Queensbridge rapper has become a cameo queen, lobbing heat rocks for Ludacris, Lil Wayne, Trey Songz, Usher, Christina Aguilera and many others. In fact, even this playlist is incomplete: days after it was compiled, two new Nicki Minaj verses were released. On the Pharrell Williams-produced "Haterade" from Gucci Mane's The Appeal: Georgia's Most Wanted, she effectively defends herself against critics who claim she's Lil Kim redux; but for Lil Wayne's "What's Wrong with Them," she just sings the chorus. Coupled with her many genre-bending appearances, including the Annie Lennox-quoting hit single "Your Love," Nicki is keeping her fans — and detractors — guessing as to what she'll do next.
20100921-eminem-560x225.jpg The rap nerds don't know what to do with Eminem. Ten years ago, they loudly proclaimed him a genius, the greatest emcee of all time. He was a master of the 16-bar verse and a vocal stylist who employed bounce, speed-rapping and drawling affectations at whim. His lyrical provocations — from turning his ex-girlfriend Kim into a symbol for abusive male-female relationships to exporting Detroit street-rap culture to the suburbs — drew kudos from songwriters like Randy Newman and Elvis Costello as well as rock dudes that usually denigrated rappers as mumbling, inarticulate hooligans. And as acclaim followed, so did massive success, as megahits like 2000's classic The Marshall Mathers LP blasted through the marketplace.

But now, the hip-hop intelligentsia has written Eminem off. For them, he's just another aging rapper with rapidly deteriorating skills. They believe that his new album, Recovery, is a noble failure, an unsuccessful attempt to reignite the dying embers of his early 2000s dominance over the pop zeitgeist. The Internet teems with mockery of some of his lyrics, with this line from the No. 1 hit "Love the Way You Lie" achieving special infamy: "Now you get to watch her leave out the window/ I guess that's why they call it window pane."

So why is Recovery the biggest-selling album of 2010 so far? Are critics and hardcore rap fans getting it wrong? Most of them wouldn't readily admit it. They would rather offer Recovery faint praise, musing that at best it's a minor improvement over Em's last two albums, 2004's widely panned Encore and last year's equally derided Relapse.


20100914-LA-beat-scene-560x225.jpg L.A.'s sprawling community of musicians and producers — at least the ones who tend to fuse electronic and hip-hop into a new sound often classified as "beat" or "bass" (as well as less-respected and kitschy terms like "lazer bass" and "wonky") — have flooded the market this year. Few national scenes have garnered as much attention, whether it's Flying Lotus grabbing headlines for his collaborations with Radiohead's Thom Yorke, or the Glitch Mob performing before thousands of crusty techno-hippies at raves across the country. It may even be just due to the sheer amount of material they've collectively produced.

First emerging around 2006, L.A.'s beat scene is often reduced to its head-nod factor and its origins in hip-hop production, particularly the work of the late James "J Dilla" Yancey and his seminal album Donuts. But the music is more diverse than that. Brazilian forms like bossa nova and tropicalia; orchestral jazz-rock descended from David Axelrod; late '60s choral pop or "sunshine pop"; the free jazz and psychedelic of Sun Ra; and early '80s electronic styles like New Age and synth-pop have helped these artists grow and evolve in different directions. Although they will always be, to some degree, the sons and daughters of Dilla, this year's beat contenders apply their aesthetic to a wide swath of popular music.
20100907-hip-hop-singles-560x225.jpg As the fall season rapidly approaches, the Internet and radio stations alike are swelling with new singles by the record labels' biggest priorities. However, summer proved unexpectedly bounteous, yielding platinum albums from Drake and Eminem as well as critically acclaimed hits from the Roots and Drake. Kanye West, Soulja Boy Tell' Em and, uh, New Boyz have much to live up to.

Here are my first impressions on the genre's contenders of the moment. It may be too early to tell if they're hits, hip-hop classics, or just over-promoted junk. But as Common once rapped on "The 6th Sense," "If I don't like it, I don't like it. That don't mean that I'm hating."
20100831-SM-drake-560x225.jpg When Drake swept through his 2010 VMA television commercial like the second coming of Frank Sinatra, it was clear that the Toronto-raised superstar likes being known as a man of love, the post-millennial Dean Martin.

But balladry is not just a pop thing. As a narrative device and a musical technique signifying love and sex, it has long fermented in hip-hop culture. You could go all the way back to Whodini's "One Love" and LL Cool J's "I Need Love" if you want, but it's not really necessary.

On Drake's debut album, Thank Me Later, you can hear echoes of Outkast, the Fugees and Lauryn Hill, as well as Faith Evans and Mary J. Blige. He comes from a specific idiom, namely the early '90s crosswinds of neo-soul, acid jazz, hip-hop and R&B. And, of course, he's not the first "rappa ternt singa," though no one has really sounded quite like him. In that sense, Drake's many influences are just a prologue. Like all (potentially) great artists, he manages to turn found objects into something entirely new.

20100817-west-coast-freestylin-560225.jpg In our constant search for an imagined golden age of hip-hop, the early '90s shines particularly brightly in our imaginations. It was a rough period for artists, though. Major labels regularly tossed albums onto the market with no clue how to promote them and then summarily dropped those artists when the albums didn't yield results. The multiplatinum success of Dr. Dre's The Chronic initiated seismic changes in the rap world, so mainstream fans and record executives weren't enthusiastic about anyone who couldn't hang with the G-funk formula. And since hardcore rap fans thought real hip-hop came from the East, and the West Coast was full of Crips, Bloods and pimps, West Coast emcees that weren't gangstas found it difficult to get heard.

With the exception of Tha Alkaholiks and The Pharcyde, nearly all of the artists on this list endured short, painful major-label careers and only found redemption with the rise of indie hip-hop in the late '90s. Despite all the obstacles, however, they pioneered a free-flowing style, heavy on sunshine beats and off-the-dome lyricism, or freestyling, that reverberates to this day. Early '90s West Coast hip-hop may have been the musical revolution that wasn't, but it was still fun.

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Blog rap's second wave epitomizes hip-hop's scales of artistic justice. Just as complaints over the new rap generation's increasingly pop output have reached a fever pitch, a new crop rises that embraces the familiar codes of street life. What makes them different from the usual parade of thugs is their youth — descriptions of a hipster thug lifestyle abound — openness to new sounds and varied collaborators, and linguistic dexterity, an unexpected benefit of Lil Wayne's memorable 2007 mixtape run and its underlying theme that any fledging rapper, no matter how lame, can transform himself into a great emcee with hard work.

This isn't a definitive list, but just a small sample of a few artists burning the Internet. All of them have material on Rhapsody; other promising voices such as Atlanta rapper Pill (1140: The Overdose) and DaVinci (The Day the Turf Stood Still) were left out because they don't. Interestingly, nearly all of them are survivors of the major-label system, having signed development deals a few years ago and then summarily been dropped, only to attract renewed interest after converting Internet hustle into industry buzz. Only Shabazz Palaces doesn't fit among this group, but their excellent recordings were impossible to omit.


Genre Roundup: Hip-Hop

20100803-roundup-hip-hop-560x225.jpg Editor's Note: Listen to a selection of the songs mentioned here on a playlist at the end of this post, or click through to listen to all of the artists listed here on Rhapsody. If you're not a member, click here and listen to all of your favorite music as much as you want — whenever and wherever you want!

Rap music has dominated the airwaves and the blogs this summer. If it's not Eminem and Drake topping the charts, it's Big Boi earning plaudits for his solo debut, Sir Lucious Left Foot ... Son of Chico Dusty. Dig deeper into this season's crop and you'll find more jewels, from Guilty Simpson's latest collaboration with Madlib to French beat producer Onra's instrumental gem. (And sorry, Eminem Stans, but Recovery didn't make the list.)

Big Boi: Sir Lucious Left Foot ... The Son of Chico Dusty
It's a wonder Big Boi's Sir Lucious Left Foot made it to stores. Four years of untangling industry red tape has taken its toll, and the album is missing several early singles, including key tracks with his OutKast partner Andre 3000. What's left of this long-delayed solo debut is very hit-or-miss. The 15-track, hour-plus album teems with guests — from Jamie Foxx and George Clinton to Janelle Monae and YelaWolf — but generates precious little synergy. However, it has enough highlights — including the futuristic funk of "Shutterbugg," "Night Night" with B.o.B., and "Shine Blockas" with Gucci Mane — to make the wait seem worthwhile.
20100727-detroit-rap-560x225.jpg Editor's Note: Listen to a selection of the songs mentioned here on a playlist at the end of this post, or click through to listen to all of the artists listed here on Rhapsody. If you're not a member, click here and listen to all of your favorite music as much as you want — whenever and wherever you want!

Slum Village hail from the same area as Eminem metropolitan Detroit, Mich. However, their worlds are strikingly different. Eminem may be the area's biggest celebrity, but his music draws as much from East Coast battle rap and West Coast G-funk as from Midwest horrorcore. Meanwhile, Slum Village are firmly rooted in the D, reflecting the city's cultural stew of neo-soul, electro-funk and techno. Their influence is profound and widespread, influencing much of hip-hop in the past decade.

It seems like most of the Detroit hip-hop scene has a connection to S.V., either through their six albums, Dirty District mixtapes or a guest appearance made elsewhere by the group's core members: J Dilla, RL "T3" Altman, Titus "Baatin" Glover and Jason "Elzhi" Powers. The group's unusually wide swath includes the late Proof, Eminem's mentor and right-hand man and the leader of D12, who recorded a track for Dirty District Vol. 3. (Speculation on whether Em ever met J Dilla or, tantalizingly, recorded with him is a favorite Internet parlor game.) Despite the house-party atmosphere of an S.V. jam, including the just-released Villa Manifesto, its music is unified in form. You know a Slum Village song when you hear it. Here are a few of the biggest names who used the group's recordings as a training ground for significant careers.


20100720-coke-rap-560x225.jpg

Mafioso rap, crack rap, even gangsta rap: the coke rap subgenre has answered to many names in its infamously profitable history. It not only plays to our lowest common denominator — namely, our stereotyped notions of how urban black men live — but also our appetite for violent action movies and our empathy for the antiheroes that usually meet a bloody end in those flicks. In this world, the bad guy, not Tom Cruise, gets all the girls and the cash, and lives to tell the tale.

Anyone who pays close attention to hip-hop is familiar with coke rap. Artists like Raekwon and Scarface fuel intense yet favorable debates over their impressive rhyme styles and the moral quandaries their songs represent. Meanwhile, reformed drug dealers like 50 Cent, T.I. and Jay-Z dominate the charts. With the arrival of Teflon Don by Rick Ross, the Miami rapper that has earned increasing critical acclaim, it's time to revisit 10 albums that exemplify how, to paraphrase the late dealer-turned-rap-kingpin Notorious B.I.G., "the rap game is just like the crack game."
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Editor's Note: Listen to a selection of the songs mentioned here on a playlist at the end of the post, or click through to listen to all of the artists listed here on Rhapsody. If you’re not a member, click here and listen to all of your favorite music as much as you want — whenever and wherever you want!

Since 1996's Illadelph Halflife, The Roots have explored social realism, portraying the mythical "streets" as a world of intractable crime, imminent dangers that require street smarts and split-second decisions, and blacks at risk of a high mortality rate — or, in scientific terms, a greater half-life. In some ways, Illadelph Halflife was a response to critics and fans who categorized the group as "jazz-rappers" after the brilliant 1994 disc Do You Want More?!!!??! Much like Gang Starr, Digable Planets and other hip-hop acts saddled with the "acid jazz" tag, The Roots felt compelled to move in a more hardcore direction, albeit one that would continue to utilize their skills as excellent live musicians.

Illadelph Halflife also introduced another theme The Roots repeat to this day. Nineteen ninety-six was the year of De La Soul's Stakes Is High. The East Coast-West Coast conflict, the incursion of organized gangs into the music industry, and Diddy and Dr. Dre's commercialization of hardcore hip-hop all led rappers to portend that the music genre faced a virtual apocalypse. Now it seems silly that people actually believed authentic hip-hop culture would die just because G-funk and jiggy were so popular, but their concern felt very real back then, especially with the shooting deaths of Tupac Shakur and The Notorious B.I.G. on the horizon. Nearly 15 years later, and with the recent release of their ninth full-length album, How I Got Over, The Roots still sound the alarm.

20100706-dungeon-family-575x225.jpg You're forgiven for believing that Big Boi's debut album, Sir Lucious Left Foot ... The Son of Chico Dusty, would never be released. Since Big Boi announced the project in late 2006, it has endured numerous recording sessions, several failed teaser singles, and even a label switch, from Jive (onetime home of Outkast) to Def Jam. In retrospect, four years doesn't seem like a long wait, especially when judged against a graveyard of shelved, infinitely delayed and/or simply lost rap epics, from Dr. Dre's decade-in-the-making Detox to Black Star's rumored second album.

Sir Lucious Left Foot is symptomatic of the Dungeon Family these days: embattled, perhaps a far cry from its glory years, yet resolute. The famed collective — once centered on groundbreaking music from Outkast, Goodie Mob and production crew Organized Noize — no longer exists as a functioning unit, at least in not any real sense, beyond one-off reunions and retrospective magazine articles. Its legacy endures, however, from the triumphant debut of Janelle Monae's The ArchAndroid to Andre 3000's fanciful remake of The Beatles' "All Together Now" for a Nike commercial that aired frequently during the 2010 NBA Playoffs.
20100629_hip-hop-and-r&b_575x225.jpg "Black music is black music, and it's all good," Common once rapped on "I Used to Love H.E.R." I didn't forget that when I wrote about the thriving marriage between hip-hop and R&B in my column two weeks ago. However, due to space and time constraints, I mostly ignored the "romance" and focused on the "cultural tension" in that relationship, and how it related to Drake's Thank Me Later.

But though De La Soul referred to the Rap & B crossover as "rap and b*llsh*t," they've also used singers on all of their albums, from Vinia Mojica on De La Soul is Dead's "A Roller Skating Jam Named Saturdays" to Zhan on Stakes Is High's "4 More." Nearly every artist of note has woven a modern soul sensibility into their music, whether it's Wu-Tang Clan's extended fam like Blue Raspberry (Raekwon's "Heaven Or Hell") or Jay-Z's collaborations with R&B superstars such as Mary J. Blige ("Can't Knock the Hustle") and Alicia Keys ("Empire State of Mind"). Even Madvillain, whose Madvillainy is one of the purest hip-hop albums of the past decade, drops a plaintive vocal by rapper/singer Stacy Epps ("Eye") in the middle of the proceedings. Rap & B has inspired not only a fair amount of "b*llsh*t" but also classic sounds that remarkably transcend both genres. What follows is an extremely random list.


20100622_rap-is-not-pop_575x225.jpg We've reached the midway point of 2010, and all seems right in the hip-hop world. After much worrying, we finally have a legitimate candidate for rap album of the year (Drake, please stand up) as well as a few potential runners-up (Nas & Damian Marley, The Roots: take a bow). And with albums due later this summer from Black Milk, M.I.A., Big Boi, and T.I., it appears that the genre is alive and well.

However, there are precious few singles worthy of classic status. Sure, Eminem's "Not Afraid" topped the charts, and the Young Money clique and Plies continue to dazzle at urban radio. But only B.o.B's "Nothin' on You" has been a flash point, dividing fans and animating discussion with its brazen appropriation of arena pop hooks. Then again, rap anthems are usually made, not born, and our memories decide which songs last through time. Who knows what we'll think of Drake's "Over" and Roscoe Dash's "All The Way Turnt Up" in the future?
20100615_drake_R&B_hip_hop_575x225.jpg Hip-hop and R&B share a history fraught with musical romance and cultural tension. Though there have been successful marriages — Faith Evans and 112's massive "I'll Be Missing You" tribute to the late Notorious B.I.G. comes to mind — the two cultures remain suspicious of one another. R&B fans often claim that rappers are just entitled industry thugs that perpetuate noxious ghetto stereotypes about people of color. And hip-hoppers claim that R&B singers are just bougie careerists whose baby-maker blandishments are far removed from the halcyon days of sweet, socially relevant soul.

Drake's new album, Thank Me Later, revisits those fault lines. Merging introspective lyrics and emotive (and, yes, occasionally Auto-Tuned) vocals, he has become something of an overnight superstar. But it has also led to accusations of being an industry product cynically designed for radio hits. Some rap fans complain that he’s more concerned with wooing teenage girls with lovey-dovey vocal hooks than spitting deft rhymes for the hardcore faithful. Or, to paraphrase De La Soul, it’s whether his mix of rap and R&B simply translates into “rap and b*llsh*t.”
20100615_drake_playlist_575x225.jpg It's only been a year and some change since Drake soared to stardom with "Best I Ever Had." With an ensuing Grammy nomination, near constant airplay on urban radio stations, and several guest spots from Jay-Z and Timbaland to Alicia Keys, it seems like the former Toronto actor has been in the game forever. That's what happens when a new rap hero emerges -- it's like love at first sight, and everyone wants to get down. Or, as Drake put it on "Over," "I know way too many people here right now that I didn't know last year/ Who the f*ck are y'all?"

With Drake's long-awaited debut, Thank Me Later, just arriving in stores, this playlist documents a very busy period for October's Very Own.


A Guide to Drake

20100615_drake_SG_main_575x225.jpg Drake is hip-hop's commercial messiah of the moment. The Toronto MC and former TV heartthrob does not disappoint on his major label debut, Thank Me Later, one of the biggest albums of the year. Listen to the extraordinary album and go beyond the music with our handy Drake listening guide that highlights his greatest hits (so far), explores his connection to Young Money Entertainment and a new generation of rap stars, and chronicles other top hip-hop debuts and the genre's long (and oftentimes rocky) relationship with R&B.

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Hear Drake's biggest hits.
Play!
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Discover the (sometimes) stormy marriage of R&B and hip-hop.
Play!
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Where does Drake stack up in this list of hip-hop's top 20 debuts?
Play!
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Dig into Drake’s full discography.
Play!
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From Drake to Kid Cudi, hip-hop's future is now.
Play!
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Young Money: Inside hip-hop's hottest crew.
Play!
Nicki Minaj

For women who aspire to rap stardom, there seem to be only two accepted industry paths. They can follow Lauryn Hill, the iconic ex-Fugees emcee that emphasized achingly soulful vocals and an earthy persona on 1998's The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill. Or they can follow Lil' Kim. The "first lady" of Diddy's Bad Boy camp and the Notorious B.I.G.'s Junior M.A.F.I.A. crew, her 1996 album Hard Core established her as a thug mistress that performed acrobatic tricks in the bedroom. A big personality of Pamela Anderson proportions, Lil' Kim's raw sexuality casts a shadow over any woman who strives for acceptance as a hip-hop artist.

One woman trying to establish her own identity is Nicki Minaj. She hails from Jamaica Queens, New York, and that fact alone makes her remarkable. New York hasn't produced a rap artist with gold and platinum appeal since 2003, when 50 Cent smashed the game with Get Rich or Die Tryin'. The current track record for female emcees is worse, a veritable trail of tears that begins after Eve, the last woman to achieve legitimate rap stardom (via her 1999 debut Let There Be Eve: Ruff Ryders' First Lady). (Did you say M.I.A.? Sure, OK.) Add her association with Lil Wayne, and there are plenty of reasons why Nicki Minaj stands out. She has landed on numerous magazine covers, been recruited by Christina Aguilera and Usher for guest spots, and regularly appears on urban gossip websites — all before she has even scored a hit single.

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Do rappers even rap anymore? When B.o.B's The Adventures of Bobby Ray debuted at the top of the Billboard charts, it not only divided critics and fans but also led to feverish claims that major labels don't support straight-up lyricism anymore, at least not without an equal helping of slumming pop vocalists and Auto-Tuned crooning to make rap palatable for the American Idol generation. The forthcoming arrival of Drake's Thank Me Later — which will probably follow Bobby Ray as the second No.1 hip-hop album of 2010 — hasn't dissipated those concerns, not when the Toronto artist spends his time wooing teenage girls with R&B hooks. Drake doesn't even rap on his latest single, "Find Your Love."

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