40 Versions

The remix of The Game’s “One Blood (It’s OK)” features almost every good rapper you can think of, plus some others that probably shouldn’t be there. In fact, it has so many rappers that you have to wonder about the ones that didn’t get the invite.

• Scarface
• Papoose
• Young Jeezy
• Busta Rhymes
• Ghostface
• Raekwon
• Method Man
• J.R. Writer
• Mike Jones
• Eminem
• Jay-Z
• Three 6 Mafia
• Diddy
• Ludacris
• Justin Timberlake
• Rakim
• Kool G. Rap
• Memphis Bleek
• Joe Budden
• Ice Cube
• Paul Wall
• Trae
• Lil Eazy-E
• Beanie Sigel
• Missy Elliott
• Lupe Fiasco
• Vakill
• AZ
• Lil Kim
• Too Short
• 8-Ball & MJG
• Trick Daddy
• MC Eiht

Saturday night, October 21 — Mojo 13 is a rock-&-punk dive bar that straddles the end of Wilmington and the beginning of Claymont. It curls up to Philadelphia Pike and is tucked near a Mexican restaurant, between a pet salon and an abandoned storefront. Another vacant storefront sits directly across the street. Up and down the road are shopping centers interspersed with gas stations, churches, Happy Harry’s drugstores, and neighborhoods, and walking too far in any one direction will leave you dizzy with the sense that no matter where you end up, you’re a lot closer to home than you think.

Not long ago, Mojo 13 was a similar bar called Sneaky Pete’s, and not long before that, it was Jack’s Brandywine Tavern. Former regulars seem to be slowly noting the change but won’t be relegated to squatter-status. It’s amusing to walk in and see the fading fixtures – those who, unlike many of Mojo’s new guests, cling to a time and place they actually experienced – avoiding the noisy mob scene that has taken over the rest of the bar. Like the new patrons, they don’t budge.

Inside, Mojo 13 looks like a forgotten carnival: a broken-down kids’ ride; a Ms. Pac-Man arcade game; a gumball machine; stickers and band posters slapped on the walls and in the bathrooms; tables and chairs stacked, scattered. People look like they’ve come from somewhere far worse, somewhere unspeakable. There is a pool table in the back that feels removed and cooler than everything else – it’s actually positioned higher than the bar itself — and the mystique makes it, therefore, somewhat off-limits. But the music room, below and occupying half the venue, is open to anyone, and it’s the only thing that really matters at Mojo 13, anyway.

On this night, a band — the term is used very loosely — stalks the small stage (and later, the crowd) with its wizard-like frontman wearing a long, white, fake beard and yielding a long, silver, fake sword. His shirt is off and his thin, wiry frame is perfect for the sort of ridiculous performance freak-art he’s lashing out with. At one point he puts what appears to be a carved-out pumpkin over his head. His partner plays a keyboard. When the wizard isn’t screaming — which isn’t often — the music is a kind of gothic, moody synth-pulse similar to Pornography-style Cure or Soft Cell that’s pretty listenable, even enjoyable. They finish, and no one seems to notice.

Another band plays, this one more intricate, mathematical. They’re better than the first band but much less entertaining. As if to make up for this, two men — one white, one black, both drunk – enter the bar. It’s only a matter of time before one of them gets into a fight, is forced out, and unnerves the relatively calm, yet definitely weird, vibe that had settled in. Cops are called.  People rush to the door, to the windows. The band keeps playing. When they finish, no one seems to notice.

Sometime shortly before 12:30 a.m., the final band of the night quietly gets up. Family makes up a chunk of the audience — a wife, a girlfriend, a manager, a brother. Band members pull out gear and set up instruments between swallows of beer, earnest but not rushed, and it’s a sincere and wholly unpretentious image. They’re wearing sneakers with jeans and T-shirts; there are no props or swords or pumpkins. The frontman looks like a frontman but doesn’t indulge like one, and no one feels overshadowed or out of place.

And then something happens. Because I’m here for just this moment, I might be the only one who notices – cares, even. But it’s amazing: all the strange energy that had filled Mojo 13, all the discordance, the indifference, the staleness — was gone. In its place was transcendence: real, live atmosphere, swelling and soaring and bursting and crashing. These mini-songflights that carry sound coming from somewhere else. Sound held together — holding us together — until it stops, and the lights come up, and there isn’t a band anymore. Just four guys on stage, in jeans and sneakers, ready to go home with the rest of us.

This was the long way around. This was The Scenic Route.

Sandman. Liva. Re-Up.

Last month, the Capitol Years released Dance Away the Terror, their great new record. Some thoughts on it here, plus some words about Dr. Dog.

Island / Oct. 3, 2006

* NOTE: I also wrote a review of this for Prefix. What follows here, though, is a “reaction,” not technically another review. Still, compare the two and see which is more truthful.

1. “Sam’s Town” / Great, great opener; jumpy and soaring and with a line about being born on the 4^th of July. The guitars actually feel electric, unlike that Rapture record. Chorus is really, really loud, and not as good as the verses. Still managed to be my favorite track on the album after the first dozen listens or so. 8.5/10

2. “Enterlude” / The first thing I notice about this is that it sounds like something from Lou Reed’s Transformer. The second thing I notice is that it’s all piano, no spaceship synthesizers or banging rhythm sections. The last thing I notice is that it’s called “Enterlude,” which I hope becomes the new buzzword in place of “intro” on rap albums. 7.5/10

3. “When You Were Young” / The life-changing first single, which was amazing the first 15 to 20 times I heard it, then unbearable, then pretty amazing again. The beginning of the video for this, where the chorus is isolated and it’s just the words, naked, is really gutsy, because it’s not like Brandon Flowers is known for writing lyrics that stand on their own without any help. The band is a lot like Coldplay or Oasis in that sense. 8/10

4. “Bling (Confession of a King)” / This might be the most interesting song on the record, because nothing about it makes sense. You’d expect that from the lyrics, but here, the title is especially awkward and head-scratching. The “higher and higher” bit at the end holds up, but the rest of this is actually really moving, too. 8.5/10

5. “For Reasons Unknown” / The beginning is annoying, but a strong recovery as the verses build toward the bridge makes this another standout. Very glammy. 7.5/10

6. “Read My Mind” / The most Springsteen-sounding thing here, which is saying something. Trite, vapid lyrics, maybe more noticeable since this is a decidedly toned-down number. Touches of the Cure. Heavy on the synths. Needless to say, I like it. 8/10

7. “Uncle Johnny” / A book you can judge by its cover. With a title like “Uncle Johnny,” an irritating, grinding riff, and a line about doing cocaine, it’s hard not to completely hate this. Warms up some, but a real sore spot on the album. 5.5/10

8. “Bones” / Grand and orchestral, with operatic singing and a horn section; something Queen would be up to if they were still around. When the band performed this on Saturday Night Live, Flowers was dressed like the leader of a big band, and I think there was a giant clam shell on stage, cradling the microphone. An “under the sea” theme that was very fitting. Love the chorus. 7.5/10

9. “My List” / The ambient intro (and outro) sounds like something I can’t quite put my finger on; I’ll just say it’s like Depeche Mode, which it kinda is, actually. Real whiny but strangely melodic. Once this thing gets going, it reminds me a lot of Night Ranger’s “Sister Christian,” which you’ll remember from the drug deal-gone-bad scene in Boogie Nights. It’s a beautiful piece of music through and through. 9/10

10. “This River Is Wild” / A real balls-out rocker, with more Springsteen flourishes. Tom Petty’s ’80s work with the Heartbreakers was supposedly another influence during the making of this album, but I don’t hear much of it leaking into the songs. It’s more ’80s in general, Trans-Ams and slutty bars and mullets and drinking beer near the train tracks. And running, lots of running. Think Footloose. 9/10

11. “Why Do I Keep Counting?” / A song about Flowers’ fear of flying, which I can totally relate to. But it’s wrapped in this beautiful melody, and the “help me get down” refrain at the end just kills me. It should be noted that nearly all of the melodies on the album are absolutely gorgeous. 9/10

12. “Exitlude” / A bit longer than the “Enterlude,” and for good measure. Neither one is all that necessary; it’s not like there’s a discernible narrative at work, a la Zen Arcade or, more appropriately, Nebraska. But “Exitlude” is a nostalgic, yearning finisher and quite different from anything else on Sam’s Town. Makes you want to start all over. Playing the record, that is. 8.5/10

96.5/120 = 80/100

Interscope (or 4AD if you buy the import. But why would you do that?)

Sept. 12, 2006

1. “I Was a Lover”

A massive distortion-ball of an opener, with blurting elephant horns and a chopped-up, Bomb Squad-harked minor chord sample. Then a reprieving piano section; bright, chunky keys. The kind of thing Tricky would be doing right now. Very ominous.

SCORE: 10/10

2. “Hours”

Still ominous, but with a much more mellow start via some “normal”-sounding drums. Piano tinkling for tension-building effect. The kind of thing Bowie would be doing right now.

SCORE: 8.5/10

3. “Province”

A great vocal melody to open. Back-and-forth guitaring and big-footstep percussion. Has more atmosphere than the last two tracks despite using less instrumentation. I think this actually features
Bowie, on backing vocals. If we’re keeping the relatable theme running, this is the kind of thing Interpol should be doing right now.

SCORE: 9/10

4. “Playhouses”

This would be a good time to note that this is merely a version of the album, so the sequencing could well be off, as I’ve heard has happened with other leaked copies. TV on the Radio compositions tend to be open-and-shut mini-epics within themselves, so how you hear one track to the next may not matter all that much. This one’s chaotic and scattershot, drums and feedback chasing each other until they both collapse. Um, the kind of thing Nine Inch Nails should’ve done on their last album.

SCORE: 8.5/10

5. “Wolf Like Me”

Funny how I just mentioned that sequencing on TVOTR records isn’t that big of a deal, and here “Playhouses” purposely, and quite effectively, bleeds into “Wolf Like Me.” This is psycho-disco-death-kill music. Like being chased around a roller-skating rink with a hockey stick-scythe. Only it’s a bad dream.

SCORE: 8/10

6. “A Method”

Whistle-while-you-work melody — beautiful — clapping and shuffle drums (later, some Waitsian clanging); that’s all. Tunde Adepimbe can be a great vocalist when he wants to. I’m not paying much attention to the lyrics. Maybe I should.

SCORE: 8.5/10

7. “Let the Devil In”

More clapping, almost feels like an extension of the last track. Then yelling and grating guitars; obnoxious. The first song thus far I could really do without. Although, it does gel together the further along it gets, once the rhythm picks up. Actually, I like it now.

SCORE: 8/10

8. “Dirtywhirl”

You can tell this is going to be incredible from the get-go, because it starts all gritty and tense, then just builds and builds with fat drums, razor guitars, bluesy piano, and Adepimbe’s now-oh-so-undeniable birdcall, which rises and falls for suspense. The whole thing even stops and strips itself before fading out; moments I admittedly live for. Four minutes meant to feel forever.

SCORE: 10/10

9. “Blues from Down Here”

Another would-be dud that, this time, kinda stays that way. Everything else flexes and struts; relatively simple songs made to seem towering and more intimidating than they might actually be. Still, some interesting things happen: horn farts as comic relief; a gospel-style breakdown; layers of murky, unidentifiable stuff.

SCORE: 6/10

10. “Tonight”

Exactly what tonight, every night, any night, should feel like: twinkling, echoed, sudden noises, hypnotic softness. If Tunde was good before, he’s in the stratosphere now, the point of no return. Of course, atop anything else, it would mean nothing. Also, there are flutes at the end of this. I didn’t see that coming.

SCORE: 10/10

11. “Wash the Day”

I haven’t the slightest as to what any of these songs are truly about, and I prefer it that way. Still, it nags me that there could be some bigger, overarching point(s) I’m missing. I can’t really speculate what the intentions of “Wash the Day” or anything else on Return to Cookie Mountain are; it might be about Katrina (waves of noise that end the album?) or Iraq or North Korea or post-9/11 New York or computers taking over our lives or the Mexican border, for all I know or care. Ultimately, it’s important because it sounds that way. But if someone really does know what it all means, I’d love to hear it.

SCORE: 10/10

FINAL: 96.5/110 = 88/100

Jive/Zomba

Sept. 12, 2006

1. “FutureSex/LoveSound”

A skittering, super-bass beat drops immediately. Justin whispers sexual innuendos and hits a shimmering chorus. The whole thing’s simple and repetitive, but I admire the “no talking intro” rule that was obviously applied. No explanation as to what “futuresex/lovesound” actually means.

SCORE: 7/10

2. “SexyBack”

Another artistic compound title. It’s like he’s trying to brand a product or something. The beat isn’t all that interesting, but I really like the vocal inflections throughout. This is the kind of song you think won’t work on radio, and when it does, it’s really exciting. Confession (no pun intended): I originally thought this song was about a woman (man?) having a sexy back. It wouldn’t surprise me if Justin was a fetishist like that.

SCORE: 8.5/10

3. “Sexy Ladies” / “Let Me Talk to You” (Prelude)

I’ve noticed already that my version will be a bit different, sequence-wise, from the one scheduled for iTunes. As for “Sexy Ladies,” it’s trite both lyrically and musically. Note that the first three songs on this album have the word “sex” (or a variation thereof) in their titles. You’d think he’d spread the sex around a bit more, so to speak. He’s clearly horny. The beat is early ’80s electro-rap; boring. The prelude that follows (which makes no sense when you say that out loud) is a tribal chimes-and-percussion thing that sounds like leftover noodlings from D’Angelo’s Voodoo album, which is definitely a point of reference here.

SCORE: 6/10

4. “My Love” featuring T.I.

Now this is amazing. Timbaland, who I’m guessing produced this, does the skidding synth-beat effect better than anyone, although, other than the Neptunes, I’m not sure who else really tries to do that sort of thing, anyway. Maybe because Timbo scares off the imitators! Just to prove a point, T.I. matches the jerky rhythm to his own darting flow, and it’s jaw-dropping every time. It’s interesting how much chemistry J.T. can have with a hardcore drug rapper like T.I., but not with a watered-down drug rapper like Snoop, who appears on a bonus track, “Pose,” which, much to the album’s benefit, will not be reviewed.

SCORE: 10/10

5. “LoveStoned” / “I Think She Knows” (Interlude)

A hyper number. Something you might try to dance to. If you were on speed. And drunk. And had been listening to Sigur Ros all day. Strings add a refined touch. Latin drums and beatboxing at the end (more great adds) beautifully give way to “I Think She Knows,” a gut-wrenching melodic turn that will undoubtedly make someone, somewhere, doing something, cry. It would warrant at least a 9 on its own, and it’s a slight shame it’s reduced to a half-song, rather than the fully-realized monster it could’ve been. It’s brilliant.

SCORE: 8.5/10

6. “What Goes Around … Comes Around” (Interlude)

The longest track on the album; baffling that it’s considered an “interlude,” which typically last for one, two minutes, tops. It’s an operatic production: dark guitar plucks, heavenly strings, soul-baring, standing-in-the-front-lawn-while-it’s-pouring-rain pleas, all against an unyielding slab of a beat; the perfect juxtaposition. Segues into an “I’m better without you” epilogue that mentions a cruddy new boyfriend and cheating (I guess that’s what the “interlude” refers to?). I’m almost positive it’s about Britney Spears. The whole effort is pretty remarkable, actually.

SCORE: 10/10

7. “Chop Me Up” featuring Three 6 Mafia & Timbaland

Let’s start by saying this could’ve been a lot (read: AN F’ING LOT) worse. Timbaland, who’s not a bad or a good rapper, raps on this one, as opposed to just producing. (I think Three 6 Mafia produced this track, though.) This sounds like anything that was on Most Known Unknown, a great piece of work once you delete all the lyrics from it. There’s a nifty beat switch-up breakdown, which always catch my ear. You can tell it’s killing Three 6 not to throw in a line about domestic violence, although they do sneak in something about having a “smackfest.” I took that as another sexual innuendo, however.

SCORE: 8/10

8. “Summer Love” / “Set the Mood” (Interlude)

What you might expect to hear from Justin Timberlake on this album: earth-piercing sparseness that sends out waves of more earth-piercing sparseness and screeching oddities. Both annoying and inescapable. “Set the Mood” sounds exactly like something from Confessions, which you’ll recall heavily aped Jodeci. And still it’s great.

SCORE: 8.5/10

9. “Until the End of Time” featuring The Benjamin Orchestra Wright

For all its homoerotic weirdness, I’m digging this album pretty hard. No homoerotica. But the biting has got to stop! I take it that Timberlake set out to make an album about the relationship between sex and love (who doesn’t?), and defined it according to his most comfortable, primitive inspiration: music. That’s why we’ve got Voodoo and Jodeci and, on this track, Prince. What’s amazing, however, isn’t how transparent his motives are. It’s how well they actually, truly work.

SCORE: 8.5/10

10. “Losing My Way”

I think this song features The Benjamin Orchestra Wright (shouldn’t those last two words be transposed?), not “Until the End of Time.” But my sources (Allmusic, Wikipedia) have verified the latter, so there you have it. The beginning sounds like “Because I Got High,” and the track quickly unfolds into a social commentary message (not unlike “Because I Got High,” when you think about it). It’s really embarrassing. To wit: “Hi, my name is Bob / I work at my job / I make 40-some dollars a day.” Ugh. But a stirring chorus: “Can anybody out there hear me? / ’Cuz I can’t seem to hear myself / Can anybody out there see me? / ’Cuz I can’t seem to see myself…Can you help me find my way?”

SCORE: 7/10

11. “Damn Girl” featuring will.i.am

A ’60s throwback, complete with organ struts and James Brown affecting. A strong recovery from the slow gospel and funk sounds of the previous tracks. Straightforward but rewarding. Love the drums. Will.i.am should stop rapping.

SCORE: 8/10

12. “(Another Song) All Over Again”

A lighter-waving barn-burner that fittingly closes the album. I miss these kind of moments. Sounds like something I can’t quite put my finger on, but then again, what doesn’t on this album? (He he.) This might be Al Green, come to think of it. Damn fine. This Mickey Mouse Club fucker writes incredible songs and collaborates like a champ, hereby referred to as “playing well with others.” And the Michael Jackson-posturing is all but gone, thankfully. Insert “king of pop” declaration here. Unless someone has done it first.

SCORE: 9/10

FINAL: 99/120 = 83/100

Motown/Universal

Sept. 12, 2006

1. “Don Gon Do It”

Starts with a chorus of sky-breaking harmonies, a marked difference from Echoes (their last album, 2003), whose “Olio” began with dark piano chords and electronic squirts. Then it goes disco-upbeat, with squealing guitars over swinging, processed percussion. Only discernible lyrics: “You were so fucked up / I wish you’d die.” The title is a variation of the phrase “don’t gonna do it,” if that helps any. A pretty great opener.

SCORE: 8/10

2. “Pieces of the People We Love”

More processed, bass-heavy percussion. Processed “Nah, nah, nah” chorus; sounds an awful lot like Gary Glitter’s “Rock and Roll.” And it works well. I liked this: “Everybody’s gotta little piece of someone they hide.” They’re not as nakedly awkward as Interpol’s lyrics, but I admire their balls. So to speak. This could’ve been a Strokes song.

SCORE: 8/10

3. “Get Myself into It”

The great first single. I don’t know why they distance themselves from DFA so much, since they’re still obviously on that pulsing, bells-and-whistles acid house kick, and the separation they enforce only serves to illustrate the point they’re trying not to make. I’ve always hoped they’d end up as the DFA flagship band, but that’s not going to happen anymore. The song ends in a saxophone squirm while the beat gets a screwed-down effect. Awesome. They should release this whole album in chopped-and-screwed form.

SCORE: 8.5/10

4. “First Gear”

Annoying all the way through; very synthed up (out?). Tries to be chic-retro but misses and winds up sounding outdated. Meaningless lyrics — what’s a “mustang whore”? Goes on forever, and aimlessly at that. The b-side to a b-side, if you will.

SCORE: 3/10

5. “The Devil”

Another dud. I swear Luke Jenner just did the same vocal effect Michael Jackson pulled off brilliantly in “Dirty Diana.” Jenner can’t sing, though. Another notable: the guitars aren’t scaled back on this album so much as they’re used weakly. Here they feel canned and chintzy. It’s really irritating.

SCORE: 3/10

6. “Whoo! Alright-Yeah … Huh”

The leaked track everyone said sounded like Talking Heads’ “The Great Curve.” And it really does! Right down to the R2-D2 blip-noises at the end. It’s like when the Killers said they were incorporating a Springsteen influence into their new record, and then came “When You Were Young,” and everyone said it sounded like Springsteen. Because it really, actually did. There’s just no other way to state the obvious sometimes. Lots of restraint on this one; focused and lean. A welcome change over the last two tracks. I just caught a line about drinking piss, though. They’re struggling for lyrics, more so than usual.

SCORE: 7.5/10

7. “Calling Me”

Slow, grinding guitars, a bit more beefed up than on “The Devil”; a good thing. Really hollow, far-away vocals (“I hear her calling me”). Very different from anything else they’ve done. This would be the equivalent of the epic dragon-slaying cut on an Iron Maiden or Yes record. Not that there’s a prog-rock thing going on or anything, it’s just an appropriate analogy. Actually, I have noticed some prog elements here and there, so maybe it’s more than an analogy.

SCORE: 7.5/10

8. “Down for So Long”

This has another unfamiliar — I’m talking about in the Rapture discography, mind you, not the history of pop music — feel to it. I want to say this is their Duran Duran moment. But it’s not — it’s totally something else, and I’ll definitely regret making that comment. I need a minute and Allmusic.com to figure this one out. Very cool, though, a kind of safari music, very cultured.

SCORE: 8/10

9. “The Sound”

They rock hard on this one, with the guitars finally amped up, but it sounds like something from Nine Inch Nails’ The Fragile. Notice that Nine Inch Nails now sounds like something from DFA, by the way. Pretty tuneless and out of hand. Not particularly feeling this, although the lunar synths during the chorus are interesting, as are the chaotic drums.

SCORE: 6/10

10. “Live in Sunshine”

A trippy Chemical Brothers closer, which I’ve always been a big fan of. Rolling percussion in the vein of the ending of “Love Is All.” Good vocals; not sure Jenner is singing this one. A very hopeful closer, albeit somewhat lackluster. It should be said that Pieces of the People We Love is a decidedly bright, danceable record, much like the Chem Bros’ Surrender. No “Killing” or “Infatuation” here. Then again, nothing that quite approaches the madness that was “House of Jealous Lovers,” either. They make a valiant go of trying to reclaim the past while reaching for some new, different things, and it often works.

SCORE: 7.5/10

FINAL: 67/100

Did you hear the one about Papoose? A great New York mixtape rapper (or New New York rapper, of whatever it’s called, if you read Sickamore’s bullshit posts) co-signed by Kay Slay, who gets a $1.5 million deal, courtesy of foremost hip-hop experts and new millennium plantation-owners Jive “Turkey” Records. No Rupert Murdoch.

This is absurd. One-point-five MILLION dollars for Papoose? It’s like paying $1.5 million for J.R. Writer. I mean, on the one hand, it’s a great thing to see. Papoose fucking owned the remix of “Address Me as Mister,” and that was next to Busta and Raekwon, a sort of New York passing-the-torch moment, unless I read too much into it. But on the other hand, COME ON! This is one-and-a-half times the amount of money Dre and Em shelled out for 50 Cent (one of the greatest returns on investment ever made). Quality aside on this one. Does Jive honestly expect Papoose to sell more than 300,000 copies of his upcoming album, The Nacirema Dream? Do you?

You would think people in these kind of higher, well-connected, seemingly hard-earned positions would know better. But it’s true — people do stupid things with lots of money all the time. Remember the XFL? Or Waterworld?

Papoose’s deal was announced in the midst of fellow Jivesters Outkast releasing the maddeningly disappointing Idlewild album and movie. Anything to be said of this artistic shitbomb has already been spoken, and better, so I’ll leave it alone.

But you might recall another Jive acquisition, Clipse, who got jerked around by the label so badly that they started making songs about it, and here’s where things become clear: Jive Records is the dumbest music company alive.

That they thought it a good idea to give Papoose $1.5 million based on a bunch of above-average mixtapes and green-light a transparently bad Outkast project, yet continually shelve one of the most anticipated rap albums ever, is proof insane that Jive is run by people who, while maybe well-intentioned, maybe hard-working, are completely out of touch with the motives of people who actually buy music.

It would appear that the Papoose signing is a way for Jive to boost its street cred and compensate its hardcore rap fans for rear-ending Clipse over the last two years. Who the hell knows what they were thinking with Idlewild, other than falling back on the not-so-forgotten formula that oddball Outkast records, surprisingly, and to the joy of industry-types, move units.

I was always under the impression that record companies operated under the “Sonic Youth Rule.” That is, for every, say, three massive, Linkin Park-style sellers, the label will grab up a critically-adored but commercial failure with a sizable, loyal fan base. It’s a glorified PR move: give a smaller band/artist a relaxed push, let them sell a couple hundred thousand records (usually less), break even, and move on. Sometimes the motives are genuine; Nothing Records was known to balance Nine Inch Nails and Marilyn Manson with niche stuff like Meat Beat Manifesto, Autechre, Plaid, Prick et al. You’d think Papoose would fall into the latter. Not be poised for the former.

Jive, after all, is still spending Backstreet money. They could scoop up a dozen of these mixtape-buzz rappers and write the whole thing off, assuming they can put out one big seller every year.

Speaking of which, the new Justin Timberlake album might be the best record of 2006. Pitchfork loved the single with T.I. I’m guessing it’ll have the highest first-week sales all year, as well as the best sales overall. Which poses a new question. Jive Records: smartest label alive?

This is interesting: Jon Caramanica is now the music editor of Vibe. Caramanica reviewed the new Outkast fiasco in XXL; also, he interviewed Bun B for The Believer (a great read). His Pazz & Jop ballot from 2004 lists Cam’ron’s Purple Haze as his favorite album of the year; in 2002 it was Big Moe’s Purple World. Media Bistro’s blurb points out that Caramanica graduated from Harvard in 1997.

Nick Sylvester, the former Village Voice and P’fork scribe who was canned earlier this after trying to develop a new form of journalism, is, I read on Gawker, a recent Harvard graduate. He really liked Tha Carter II. Clipse’s “Zen” was his favorite song of 2005.

In 1988, Dave Mays and Jon Shecter, two Harvard students, started a crude newsletter out of a campus apartment; a decade later it would be the biggest hip-hop magazine in the world.

Here’s where I’m going: is there some kind of correlation between Ivy League education and gully street rap? Why do people who have so clearly (and adamantly) bought into an academic lifestyle based on structure and hierarchy fall for a culture rooted in the anti-establishment?

I think it’s several things. Maybe these people are fascinated with the politics and sociology of a world far removed from their own. The reason mob stories are so popular, for instance. Maybe they’re amused by the antics of people who aren’t as traditionally educated as they are. Maybe, like most arts and entertainment writers, they’re jealous of talents they don’t possess or are unable to pursue — like sports commentators. Or maybe it’s some kind of pity; you know, ”voice of the voiceless.” I am guilty of any number of these approaches.

Keep in mind, I don’t know any of these folks personally, so I’m just guessing at what their true motives are. But with Harvard’s reputation being what it is, you’ve got to wonder what someone’s friends and families think when said person tries to break down the science behind Young Jeezy’s particular brand of coke rap and its potential for self-empowerment in the black community. At least give Mays and Schecter credit for having the foresight to realize the goldmine hip-hop could become. All others: you’ve got some explaining to do.