Lately, some new artists have hit the interwebs who are down right addictive and, if all goes well, they will be giving fans the shakes on a massive level. J. Cole’s “A Dollar and A Dream II” affixes graceful metaphors about the throes of quarter-life insecurity to a generous piano melody that makes a clean break from the ever-ubiquitous synth-hop. Jay-Z scooped the North Carolina MC as the first signee to his newly-formed Roc Nation imprint; a move that makes sense since Cole has the same low-key cleverness that has rendered Hov a mega-bajillionaire. He’s young so his mixtape The Warm Up has the requisite knuckle-headed sneaker and swagger rhymes. But the clean production has the classic brooding sensibility of jazz-sampled hip hop from Slum Village and Little Brother. Tracks like “I Get Up” and “Losing My Balance” are that good good.

In the battle of the protégés, G.O.O.D. Music’s Big Sean is definitely the Kanye to Cole’s Jay-Z. A fellow Midwesterner with a penchant for candy-colored kicks, Big Sean’s UKnowBigSean mixtape is a sundry collection of poppy beats thumping under moments of conspicuous consumption and raw introspection. On “Intro” he concedes it’s his tenacity versus his talent that sets him apart while the obvious have-more name-checks abound on the bouncy single, “Getcha Some.” He’s great because he has a slick, sleek sound that his lyrical capabilities will catch up to soon.

Fresh Daily is the archetypal blog rapper with endearingly lo-fi rhythms, a pale live show and music that only gets better with noisy fan commentary – so let me yap for a sec. His concept mixtape Tomorrow Is Today flutters with airy rhythms and references to space travel, being in space, spaceships and otherwise flaunting his chick-magnet prowess. Geekiness aside, he shines on tracks like “Space Movies” and “Jump” with Jesse Boykins III.

These young MCs show promise and could be getting’ their Wale on by next year. Last year, the DC MC was riding the buzz from a grip of popular mixtapes and now he’s signed to Interscope and performing at tony locales like The Hudson Hotel’s Private Park. Flanked by the gentlemanly Mark Ronson and causing a head-banging ruckus with his conga-thumpin’ band and brash potty mouth, Wale’s ripe sound ripped through the joint and made it clear he arrived. And with their slick sounds these rising lyricists are on their way to sending shockwaves though hotels – and the music game – very soon.

By Mawuse Ziegbe

The 2009 All Points West Music and Arts Festival in New Jersey’s Liberty State Park was kinda like an open-air high school lunchroom where shaggy rockers, glittery rappers, and freewheeling artsy kids all held court in their respective corners. Spotty showers soaked the first day of the weekend-long festival which left dedicated (a.k.a. fool-headed) fans tramping through glutinous mud to the sounds of Vampire Weekend, The Knux and Peanut Butter Wolf. The Pharcyde rocked loopy hits like “Runnin’” and “Passin’ Me By.” The original line-up was in full effect – including a formerly dreadlocked Tre sporting an appropriately Jersey Corleone hat – and showed love to J. Dilla by playing Slum Village jams like “Raise It Up.” Q-Tip deployed his trademark energy, grooving through Tribe’s hits and busting out a quirky yet charming cover of Michael Jackson’s “Human Nature.”

Jay-Z is typically a crap live performer who relies on smugness versus stage presence to energize a crowd. But at his first U.S. festival show, he was actually entertaining – or rather the 40-foot visuals, bajillion-piece band, and scores of “Oh snap!”-inducing hits staved off boredom. He even played more chill gems like “Jigga My N*gga,” “Feelin’ It” and “Streets Is Watching.” He also drove the crowd into a tizzy with a bold verse from his upcoming Blueprint 3 which name-checked former partner Damon Dash and crazy-talking MC The Game.

Saturday, I checked out the sprawling outdoor art and liked some cool pieces that used re-purposed materials and what-not. But unless it provided shade, most of the kids weren’t into it. The beer gardens were actually more like beer pens enclosed by chain link fences where you could sit in the mud and nurse your Bud Light like some drunkity farmer. St. Vincent’s warbling, distorted pop was my personal highlight. She had the most adorable nerdlinger band which included a flautist and a violinist who also hopped on the keys and sax. She was loverly as she plucked hazy melodies like “Laughing With A Mouth of Blood” and “The Strangers” as the sun sank into dusk. Despite the CGI gremlin visuals and the fact that I’ve never shopped at Hot Topic, I actually enjoyed Tool’s haunting, gritty set.

By Sunday I was damn near delirious from the New Jersey to Brooklyn sojourn and thus not OK with the craptastic comedy that awaited me. It’s still 1994 in my head and I watch Janeane Garofalo’s delightfully self-deprecating turn in The Truth About Cats and Dogs way more than necessary. So a part of me died when she took a huge L with jokes about birthers, healthcare reform and other buzz-killers. She did bounce back a bit with a yarn about slathering hand sanitizer on her lady bits but the set still gave me the sads.

Lykke Li was her usual awesome self and bands I never gave a flip about like Silversun Pickups, We Are Scientists and Akron/Family were rather bangin.’ But the performance of the day and perhaps the weekend and perhaps my life was Coldplay. Yes, their Park Slope, hipster-dad rock is an easy mark for dick-joke comedians and usually only people with vaginas profess to be fans. But real talk, they were rad. Chris Martin is effortless and self-aware and the show erupted with pleasant surprises like twinkly lights and balloons filled with glitter. Plus, they have like 17 songs that you know all the words to but don’t realize it until you’re in the stands swaying, watching the clouds and promising never to do anything assholian again. Because ridding yourself of your assholian ways is the reason Jeebus invented Coldplay, rain boots and All Points West.

Monday morning I woke up in a rumpled tank top with my cell phone plastered onto the side of my face, an ache in my thighs, and vodka sloshing through my veins. This level of abject foolishness means only one thing: summertime! It’s July but for a lot of New Yorkers making do with a pittance of sunshine, summer has just only begun. But even through a completely soaked June, some of us kept our dispositions on the sunny tip like singer Miz Metro. She premiered her bubbly video “Trashion” – a montage of her flouncing about the LES – at her recent SOB’s mixtape release party. While her fussy outfits and re-purposed Metro Card accessories evoke a street artist/trustafarian trying to “find herself,” her music is actually warm and effortless. Toasty soul from zany white chicks is usually pretty fun.

I also recently learned that summer for the fabulous means SoBe’s Summer Fridays, a weekly one-stop shop for complimentary cocktails, mani-pedis, and massages. Basically, debauchery for the bourgie. DJ Cassidy fired up the kids with a gaggle of throwback hits from Camp Lo’s “Luchini” to The O’Jays “I Love Music.” Patrons got gussied up at hair and makeup stations and posed all pretty-like for professional pics. I felt like one of the beautiful people. But really, after a coupla cocktails like the “Diddy” – Ciroc laced with an ineffectual splash of SoBe Lifewater – who wasn’t looking fierce?

The next day it felt like all of fierce NYC converged on Central Park for Giant Step’s annual Summerstage show. This year Swedish collective Little Dragon served up their drowsy trip-hop beats and Chester French banged out snappy renditions of their hits “Jimmy Choos” and “She Loves Everybody.” But the day was owned by lispy legend Q-Tip who bounded on stage in a red and black jacket reminiscent of golden era Michael. He played a bit of The Jacksons’ “Dancing Machine” and slipped into “Move” which samples the disco & B jam. He rocked more solo material like the seductive “Let’s Ride,” the groovy “You,” and the booty-quaking “Vivrant Thing.” Even in the mighty midsummer heat he got the crowd bouncing to vintage A Tribe Called Quest, seamlessly spitting both his and Phife’s memorable verses from “Electric Relaxation,” “Award Tour,” and “Scenario.” And then taking the gold for most random cameo ever, the Ciroc king himself Diddy cakewalked out on some 1995 Puffy and Mase steeze. Tip capped off the show by jumping in the audience and leading a sing-a-long to his aptly breezy number “Life Is Better.”

Afterwards I journeyed to Coney Island for the Village Voice’s Siren Festival. I arrived just as Spank Rock and Amanda Blank closed the show with their uninspired shuffle-around-and-scream routine. Coney Island is an amazing place for festival goers such as myself who are easily distracted by fried and spinning things. However, riding the Cyclone after two Nathans’ hot dogs and a fried plantain with melted cheese was the worst look possible. But refusing to be felled by neither nausea nor whiplash, I hit up the Old American Can Factory for Mark De Clive-Lowe, Chris Annibell, and DJ OP. Mark spun a lot of steely house under huge purple neon visuals that coaxed the latent MTV “Grind” dancer out in all of us. The next day I checked out the annual Heatwave BBQ in Prospect Park. It’s simple enough (and thoroughly enjoyable) premise: Black people dress up to eat, drink, and profile. After a while though, crowds tend to make me cranky so I gladly chugged the pint of unnamed alcohol someone handed me. I learned later it was a Nutcracker, a tantalizing libation that hit the throat like a mix of Orangina and Novocaine. By 9 pm I found myself in bed slurring lies to people about meeting them “in like, an hour or something,” and then rolling over to drool on the other side of my pillow.

But that Monday morning, armed with a liter of Poland Spring as I un-tagged a crop of unflattering pictures on Facebook, I reflected on a weekend bursting with booze, bikes, and beats and realized the aches were worth it. As ‘Tip might say, life is better – now that summer’s hit New York.

By Mawuse Ziegbe

No need to expound upon his achievements or even mention his last name. We all have our favorite Michael moment. Mine is headbanging to “Bad” as a toddler in pre-school. Instead of nap time our teacher let us run around like, well, babies. Me and a roly-poly, pigtailed friend nearly snapped our necks every afternoon. I’m pretty sure that guy was fired. But I would always see him bopping around Boston with his headphones on; very likely bopping along to “Bad.”

Part of Michael’s legacy is the advancement of music videos. Every time we see a lit dance floor, an errant tiger, Prohibition-era pop-lockin,’ or massive flying marbles, Michael will be on our minds. But for every indelible hip thrust, he also left a rash of quirky videos that are largely beeping off the radar. Here are some of Michael’s equally awesome – if less celebrated – moments.

“Liberian Girl”
From entertainment luminaries (John Travolta, Steven Spielberg) to future hard-luck reality show cast members (Brigitte Nielsen, Lou Diamond Phillips) this video is pure 80s awesomeness. It’s a snapshot of his celebrity and his affect on his peers. Plus, he didn’t take himself so seriously that he didn’t see the humor in his persona. If you share a hairstyle with Weird Al Yankovic, you gotta chuckle.

“Can You Feel It”
This is The Jacksons but Michael literally shines in this one. Rays of light are exploding from his Jheri curl for Pete’s sake! And those jumpsuits are another example of things only people whose name rhymes with Fichael Blackson can wear.

“Blame It On The Boogie”
Another Jacksons hit that still packs dance floors. This is one of those clips from the nascent era of videos; before they were fussy, artificial, and characterized by gut-busting budgets. It’s also before Michael sadly became characterized with fussy artificiality. It’s just some easy dancing, a flourish of lighting, a flash of charisma, and an excuse for the ages.

“Who Is It”
For whatever reason, this version of the Dangerous single never made it to American music television. MTV played a different version that was just a compilation of his previous videos. It’s comparatively more sleek and darker than many of his videos but it still has an intriguing narrative that we expect from Michael.

“What’s Up With You”
Ok, this is Eddie Murphy’s doing and it effectively proves that no celebrity megastar friend, designer hair grease or doves can save your song from mediocrity. But however cheesy and heavy-handed the execution; we all get it. He was about love -and you can’t hate on that.

Thanks for being bad. Thanks for being great. And thanks for the memories.

Puberty would not have been the same without LL Cool J. Honestly who was hotter than shirtless, lip-lickin’ LL in 1995? Coolio? Tag Team? Exactly. And yet when Estelle and LL Cool J took over Terminal 5 for the Grammy and T-Mobile tour I was not prepared for how totally phat it would be. Estelle was aiight – she was two-steppin’ and bitching about her ex-boyfriend – entertaining but all things I could see any sloshed slag do on a Saturday night. LL weaved through his 20-year-plus repertoire flexing to hits like “Doin’ It,” “Rock The Bells,” “Phenomenon,” “I Need Love,” “Headsprung,” and “Radio” with the energy and abs of a delusional MySpace MC. I spent much of the time jonesing for FUBU, Dunkaroos and general nineties awesomeness. So, mad props to LL and the booty-quaking potency of his def beats.

The Roots don’t score as many mainstream snaps as LL but they continue to prove their legendary status with events like the 2nd annual Roots Picnic. Following a typically grizzly Chinatown bus ride to the illadelph, I caught Antibalas’ fairly uninspired set. Philly’s own Santigold often relies on her fussy downtown b-girl look and heart attack-serious dancers to carry a performance. But she actually smiled and flicked her hair a bit more than usual through songs like “Find A Way,” “Unstoppable,” and “Say Aha.” Throngs of mall-accessorized girls thrashed along to “Creator” and Spank Rock made an anti-climactic appearance during “Shove It.” Kid Cudi led a chorus of tri-state area teenagers through his “A Kid Named Cudi” mixtape and pulled the ill Sexual Chocolate move, dropping the mic and walking off. A top-form Public Enemy went on at dusk. Flavor Flav’s screwy energy was reassuring, aging hip hop intellectual Chuck D skipped about in great physical form, and Professor Griff did flying kicks. Now that everyone’s so on the verge about their prez, PE’s anti-government rhetoric didn’t resonate as fiercely but backed by The Roots it was easily one of those “tell the grandkids” moments.

Hip hop proved its awesomeness once again the next day at Hot 97’s Summer Jam 2009. Falling in line with the droves of misbehaving teenagers from Jersey seemed like an excellent idea at first. When I noticed Flavor Flav (the very same from the previous day’s boho The Roots Picnic) amongst tailgating fans in the parking lot, I knew “excellent” was a major understatement. Mary J. Blige performed a bunch of songs spanning the history of her honey-blonde weaves from her “Just Fine” page boy to her bouncy “Real Love” spirals. Young Jeezy performed a set with special appearances from Jay-Z and TV paraplegic-turned-MySpace phenomenon Drake. The ensuing hysteria for his guest performers compared to the relative slacker clap for Jeezy was kinda awkward. T-Pain did a 20-minute set that was 20 minutes too long (not including the five minutes when Lil’ Kim surprised the crowd). And when Dipset took the stage, my low Jim Jones tolerance induced a hasty retreat back to Brooklyn. My favorite rappers don’t swath themselves in scarves, they rip their shirts off.

The chance for the absurd is the reason droves of misfits migrate from middle America to Manhattan. So, I’m sure flaming fashionistas from Peoria would have been reveling at Fischerspooner’s show at Music Hall of Williamsburg. The arty, dance duo recently released their third album, Entertainment, a pulsing electronic epic that the group matched with an equally grand stage show. Be-wigged dancers slid in and out of jumpsuits, tutus and other fabric concoctions to the militaristic throb of songs like “The Best Revenge.” Even Madonna (the most famous ex-Midwesternite) braved outer-borough traffic, studiously watching the dancers flex to perfectly synced rehearsal footage. Easily the best show I’ve seen in ages.

Toronto collective Keys N Krates also brought an intense stage show to Williamsburg taking over the back room at Public Assembly. After a heartbreakingly terrible show by Planet Rump (I thought I was watching a Mad TV sketch) Keys N Krates knocked out live remixes of classic jammy jams. With a DJ, drums, bass, and guitar, the band reinterpreted gems like Mos Def’s “Ms. Fat Booty” and A Tribe Called Quest’s “Check The Rhime,” often banging out a riff of the song’s obscure sample. They also shook up a downtempo version of Michael Jackson’s “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’” with frisky syncopation and throwback scratching.

The king of livening up any flaccid track with murderous scratching is DJ Premier. At a recent listening session for Queens artist Blaq Poet he vowed to bring back the coarse, wiry beats of yesteryear. Blaq Poet’s latest album The Blaqprint is a cacophony of cagey rhythms and heavy lyrics coursing with the gritty, boot-stomping, ashy-knuckle allure of hip hop artists like M.O.P. and Mobb Deep. I mean, I love me some Soulja Boy, but I kinda miss when rappers used the word “glock” and post-apocalyptic decay seemed to influence the set design of all hip hop videos.

At least when it comes to real hip hop ish, we have Little Boots! Okay, I was making funny. But she did make a genius piano cover of Kid Cudi’s “Day N Nite” and has been enchanting fans with YouTube covers of songs by Cyndi Lauper and Lightspeed Champion often shot from the comfort of her bedroom. Already topping charts in her native UK, she had a rapturous public waiting at New York’s Le Poisson Rouge. However, her live show was sadly upstaged by her outsize buzz and rollicking openers, Heartsrevolution. A barefoot drummer pounding inhuman BPMs, a wailing frontwoman swilling from a bottle of Jack the size of her head, and shimmery dance rhythms of rave-like proportions preemptively kicked Little Boots’ behind. The intimate, cheeky dazzle of her viral videos was completely lost amongst the heaving screams and flashing lights. Even though the crowd panted along to songs like her single “New In Town,” her walk-around-and-sing-the-hits routine didn’t pack enough of a wallop to convert newbies. Not enough to get droves clamoring from Peoria.

Photo of Asher Roth (c) Hannibal Matthews

By Mawuse Ziegbe

One of my favorite songs right now is Jack Peñate’s calypso-laced “Tonight’s Today.” The cheery percussion is buoyed by a heady choir, balmy guitar, plucky Kalimba and possibly the best of the use cowbell since The Rapture. A pale English kid with artfully mussed hair who’s besties with stars like Adele and The Maccabees, his 2007 debut Matinee features jittery rock with faint doses of ska tossed in for good measure. But any pouty kid with a garage and some guyliner can churn out guitar-driven pop. Cheers to Jack and his beachy jam; I raise my Mai-Tai in praise.

Another music man I must toast is Asher Roth. (Yes, that stoner kid with that stoner anthem, “I Love College.”) He and Chester French rocked the Blender Theater the day after the release of his debut, Asleep In The Bread Aisle. And I had so much fun! He and his equally blithe crew ripped songs like “Lion’s Roar” and “Be By Myself.” The band joined him for a quick rendition of Soul For Real’s “Candy Rain,” complete with the cheese-laden ’90s dance moves and then Beanie Sigel bounded out of irrelevancy to kick a verse. When the crowd erupted during “She Don’t Want A Man,” the flail of uncoordinated frat-boy arms was almost poetic. I was truly converted when he fired off a pro-organic food freestyle that both dropped jaws and silenced nonbelievers. The gleefully drunken college kid thing usually screams shallow, trendy hype but I really can’t hate on this. Sometimes, blonds just have more fun.

And if you’re into fun your new favorite band is Buraka Som Sistema. The Portuguese collective infuses the snappy Angolan genre of Kuduro with gritty club beats on their LP Black Diamond. They gripped a sold-out Bowery Ballroom with their urgent dance-or-die rhythms. I’ve posted up in more than a few venues but I’ve never seen New Yorkers go batshit like that. The group is officially four dudes but guest frontwoman/dancer/party-starter MC Blaya shut it down with her tremulous booty. The crowd bounced en masse, yelping along to hits like “Sounds Of Kuduro” and Buraka barely left the stage before the revelers whooped for an encore. Then, while DJ Sega gracefully crowd-surfed, the rest of the band splattered the audience with a Super Soaker.

Also doing the tour thing is Grammy-winning songstress Chrisette Michele. Her jazzy style harks back to that gin-swishing, smoking coat era when dames were dames and she flaunted her sass throughout her hour-long BB King’s set with angsty anecdotes about men who done done her wrong. With her platinum pixie and prefacing of “Best Of Me” with “has anyone ever fallen in love with an idiot?” she read like an adult contemporary Etta James. She also chatted about her John Legend collaboration, “Love Is You” breezed through her boppy single “Epiphany,” and enjoyed a brief guest appearance from Danity Kane’s D. Woods. Even with post-breakup bitterness, a 45-minute wait and random pop vixen cameos, the crowd was enamored with her. And that’s what makes a dame, a dame.

No one has more swoon-worthy finesse than Jesse Boykins III. With his breathy intonations, boyish hustle and collaborations with artists like Melo-X and Theophilus London; he’s making noise in a soul music scene aching for something classic and new. In an age where vocals course through vocoders and double-clicks rule the DJ booth, Boykin’s New School-bred production and arrangement skills are both novel and necessary. His second album The Beauty Created is awash in richly textured instrumentation and driven by Jesse’s lyrical adoration of a woman’s quirks. Giant Step spoke with the Miami native about ’90s boy bands, working out with Bilal and, of course, the fairer sex.

The girls were literally going crazy at your show! I’ve never seen women react like that, especially to a new artist. How does it feel to be up there? Do you see it like that?
I really don’t pay attention to it that much. I like performing, I like entertaining. I like making the night memorable. The image stuff, I really don’t pay it any mind.

What about that girl that jumped on stage? Does that happen a lot?
Actually it does. If there’s a stage, sometimes it gets like that. But I’m not a pop star or anything.

The ladies think you are!
I take that as a huge compliment. It’s really rare that somebody does that in soul music. I’m glad that I bring that out of people.

What does soul music mean to you?
Music from the heart. When I say that, it gets categorized as neo-soul. I don’t really call my music neo-soul. Anything I put my vocals over…it’s still soulful because it’s from the heart.

What can people expect when they see your show?
An experience. When I go to shows I want to feel different emotions. I want to be sad for a song, I want to be happy for a song, I want to hear a song that makes me remember somebody. I want people to feel like I know them when I’m performing. I remember, I had a show at Joe’s Pub and someone [came] who had never heard of me before. [She said] “I had the most terrible day. But I heard you singing and I forgot about it.” That’s what I want.

It’s interesting that when people listen to your music they wouldn’t know that you’re originally from Jamaica.
As far as my accent of course, I lost that years ago. I feel like it’s still in my music as far as rhythm and my phrasing. Even my songwriting too. My large influence is from the stuff I used to listen to when I was growing up [like] Sizzla, Bob Marley and Jimmy Cliff. When I moved to Miami my big influence was from the radio. [Then] my mentor in the sixth grade started putting me on to Stevie Wonder, Marvin Gaye, Brian McKnight, cats that I wouldn’t be able to hear on the radio. That’s when I started getting into songwriting and figuring out how to write a song.

What was playing on Miami radio?
It was like KC & Jo Jo and Shai. I was really into a lot of boy groups like H-Town and Jodeci. I started a boy group with my two of my friends called MSJ. We used to sing KC & Jo Jo’s “All My Life.” That was the only song we did but we did it a lot! In [high school] I was in a group called Perfect Gentlemen. We would be in the cafeteria and drop a track. I would walk out and do my solo and everyone would be like, “ooh!”

I noticed you also do a lot of collaborations. Do you prefer the group aspect? Would you want to be in a group later on?
I feel like the best things come out when people collaborate. Imagine if Michael Jackson didn’t have Quincy Jones. Michael Jackson’s demos were dope but Quincy was like, “add this right here, add this there,” and it was great. As far as the group thing, not so much. I like to collaborate a lot but I’m still my own artist.

You work with a range of artists like disco funk group Chin Chin and hip hop artist Theophilus London. Tell me about them because they are very different artists.
I’ve been in the group Chin Chin since I was seventeen. When I first moved here Wilder Zoby, the lead singer, was in class with me at New School. They influence me a lot too as far as not being afraid to just try things and being open-minded when it comes to every genre. I really appreciate that I met him early on before I started creating because they really were like, “you can do whatever you want to do.”

You met him before you built your stage identity.
I would say that. My voice changed late when I was 17. I lost a lot of confidence and it was really hard because [my] school was [more concerned with] me learning jazz songs than me getting my craft back. I had to do that myself until I came into contact with Bilal my sophomore year. He was teaching me voice lessons. One time he was performing at this club called Sweet Rhythm with some…friends of mine like [keyboardist] Robert Glasper. Rob introduced me and I was like, “Yo, B can I get some lessons?” He was like, “Voice lessons? I’ve never taught those.”

They were the craziest lessons. He was like, “We’re gonna do some breathing exercises. When you inhale, you’re inhaling the universe and when you exhale you’re becoming God.” I’m 17 and I’m like, “What are you talking about?” He was like, “Do some push-ups.” Then he’s like, “Get on the [elliptical machine].” He was like, “You want some tea?” So, we made tea and he’s like, “Alright, sing something.” I started singing and he’s like, “OK stop. Do some push-ups again.” I’m doing push-ups and I’m breathing hard and he’s like start again. [I start singing] and he’s like, “You see that first breath, how deep it was? That should be your first breath every time you sing a song.” It was a four-hour lesson and after the four hours I was like, “You could have just told me that!”

I love your collaborations with Theophilus London. Tell me about your work with him.
We were doing this little showcase at Sputnik. At the time, a lot of rappers would hit me up because I was working with Mickey Factz and all his stuff was coming out. I gave him my number and he kept calling. He would call me and sing me ideas over the phone.
I went to this studio, [he played a] track and it was by this cat called Machinedrum, a producer he works with. I heard his verse and I’m like, “That’s dope.” I was in the booth and he was like, “All I want you to sing is [the word] ‘higher.’” [I sang] and he was like, “Yo, let’s do it.” We just clicked. He was like, “What you doing tomorrow?” I was like, “Nothing.” He was like “Come back.”

I remember the day we did “Cold Pillow.” It was last summer and we were both mad depressed. We’re both Pisces so we get emotional for no reason sometimes. He was like, “I got this song [and he started singing] ‘and I wonder, strangest feeling taking me under.’” I set up the mic and recorded it not thinking nothing of it. Months later everybody’s hitting me up, like “Yo, I just heard ‘Cold Pillow’ in Germany!”

Tell me about the album The Beauty Created.
When I first released [my first album] Dopamine I was over it. I had listened to it so much and it’s really personal to me. I put it out and everyone was giving me mad love and I was like, “I really don’t want to perform any of these songs, it’s really hard.” When I started working on The Beauty Created I had just recently moved to Bed-Stuy. My roommate Steve Wyreman played guitar for Keyshia Cole, Joe and Goapele. He would come up to my room and say, “What do you think about this?” And I would just start freestyle singing.

It was so crazy because it was guitar and vocals on a lot of tracks and then I would just call cats in the band over. I’d be like, “Earl, come put bass on the track,” and then my boy O.J…would come through and he would be like, “can I take it to the crib and put a horn on it?” It was really natural. I call it The Beauty Created because the band created it. I had the lyrics, I produced it and I recorded…and arranged everything but at the end of the day, everybody put their two cents in.

A lot of the tracks on The Beauty Created are more refined and subtle than Dopamine.
Dopamine was more of a spur of the moment thing. I had just gotten out of a relationship and I had all these pieces of paper with words on them. As an artist, I didn’t know what else to do to get over it.

At first I wasn’t gonna put out the Dopamine album, I was just letting people hear it. One of my good friends came in and…after I played her the whole thing she got real emotional because she knew the whole story. She was like, “this feels like dopamine.” I didn’t even know what dopamine was so I looked it up and [learned] it was an endorphin; the chemical for love basically.

[The songs] could have been better of course but I was so ready to [move on]. I wrote it, I don’t want to sit and correct it. With Beauty Created, I really took my time with it. I listened to every song and me and Steve would [take notes]. Dopamine was me in the studio by myself. The Beauty Created, everybody had a say in it.

Why did you name your band The Beauty Created?
One day we was coming home from a gig. My boy who plays bass was chilling with us and cats was like, “what you want from music?” I said, “I want people to know my name.” [My friend] Jeremy was like, “I want it to make me happy.” My [other] homie was like, “I just want to create beauty.” At first I started laughing and then a week later I was like, “I know what I’m gonna name the band!”

A lot of ladies are gonna be reading this interview. Is there a specific lady who’s inspiring all this or are there multiple ladies?
My album cover explains it all. It’s a flower and it represents a woman. That’s my answer.

A single woman?
Women. There are certain songs that I listen to and I know exactly what I’m talking about and exactly where I was when I wrote it. At the end of the day, there’s a woman that’s inspiring it. A lot of men do things for women. We all want to impress women.

So, did you do this album for a woman?
A particular woman?

Yeah.
The Beauty Created?

Yeah.
Like one single woman?

Yeah.
No. [Laughs]

SunStar
Tabloids (Machine Drum Mix) (right-click, save as)

A most curious thing occurred at the office one day. Ambling down the halls I happened upon a bin of unwanted swag. While it’s usually chock full of crap like cookbooks by convicted felons and posters of small-town yokels named Lil’ No No, this time teetering at the top of the heap were three albums from artists that apparently no one else in the office cared about: 88-Keys, Peter Bjorn & John and The Yeah Yeah Yeahs. The Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ roiling SNL performance the week before was the highlight of my recent sojourn to Boston and I’ve been diggin’ the shimmery, disco gloss they’ve slathered on their signature reckless glammy rock. I’m all over the way the slightly sinister opening strains set up the rumbling and unexpectedly groovy “Dragon Queen.”

Peter Bjorn and John’s Living Thing however kinda belongs in the slush pile. For an album with so many sounds it’s remarkably stale. The folky whimsy of 2006’s Writer’s Block has evolved into a bratty racket weighed down by monotonous percussion. Like, what is “Lay It Down?” The chorus of “Hey, shut the fuck up, boy” is as catchy and irritating as The Clap. They recently performed a most uninspired show at the Hard Rock Live Theater marked by the yawning wails of “I’m Losing My Mind” and the aforementioned “Lay It Down.” I only got into it when they played “Amsterdam” and I left the second “Young Folks” was over. I really wish I had seen them two years ago when they weren’t making tedious songs that sound like Paul Simon tours Williamsburg.

At The Studio at Webster Hall, I caught Melo-X, a downtown DJ trying his hand at the rap thing and using the same breathy delivery and dusty beats trademarked by Slum Village and Little Brother. Jesse Boykins III helped out on “Keep The Faith,” where Melo eulogizes fallen friend. The show was cool, but at the end it was like, “ok, I’ve done that.” The audience was really going nuts, however, for guest singer Cynthia who delivered a bluesy version of Lauryn Hill’s “Sweetest Thing.”

When UK soul legend Omar held an after-party at Santos Party House, a cavalcade of promising young singers contributed to the fray. Yahzarah made an impression with her casually insistent vocals on The Foreign Exchange’s classic 2004 debut Connected. However, her able performance simply lacked that ol’ razzle dazzle. I didn’t know who she was until the host back-announced her performance. However, Grammy-nominated singer Maiysha was a welcome surprise. I know her as a plus-size model that doles out fierceness advice on MTV’s “Made.” And with vocals as robust as her enviable curves she broke it down with the light d-n-b jam, “Over My Head.”

This column pretty grew out of me blogging about Giant Step’s Hudson Hotel parties so praise the almighty turntable that the series returned with the lovely Phil Asher (view photos). Hitting NYC for the first time in five years he spun all sorts of balmy house and retro gems like Grace Jones’ “Private Life.” No one in my office may give a hootle about artists like Mr. Asher and 88-Keys (and his admirably cohesive and cop-worthy concept album The Death of Adam) and but if that means more free music is just an amble away, I’m all over it.

Kanye West at the Levi’s/Fader Fort © Seher Sikandar

SXSW 2009: Kanye West, Common, Erykah Badu, Devo, Red Riders, The Asteroids Galaxy Tour, Big Boi, Janelle Monáe, Chin Chin, Beach House, Solange, Kid Cudi

Austin’s South By Southwest Festival is four days of new bands eking out a following and amplifying their buzz while established acts assert their influence or grasp at a comeback. Giant Step’s Resident Mawuse Ziegbe took in as much of the long lines, late nights and musical highs as she could. Here’s her review of a weekend of sounds in the South.

Day 1
I meet my girl for dinner and our waitress scares me with her disarming southern hospitality. 6th street, the epicenter of the festival, teems with souvenir stores and death metal pizza shops (no joke). Some fey guy with a messy accent asks for directions and rewards me with a plastic light saber and some chocolate.

We check out an awesome Australian band called Red Riders. It’s guttural, thrashy, syncopated rock; a cross between Bloc Party and Crystal Stilts. We get pulled into another venue by the funky strains of The Asteroids Galaxy Tour. The lead singer looks and sounds like a cross between Stevie Nicks and Deborah Harry. “The Sun Ain’t Shining No More” pounds like rockabilly tune from a Danish version of The B52s.

At the AfroPunk show Big Boi hits the stage bedecked in lime green stockings. He gets real 1998 with it playing jams like “Bombs over Bagdad” and “Ms. Jackson” (Janelle Monáe crashes the stage with her frenetic footwork during the former). I run into the first of many Brooklynites and he hooks us up with backstage passes. We finagle our way onto the side of the stage and pump our pelvises to “Ghettomusick.” The hype man coaxes us onstage during “The Way You Move” and we revel in our newfound groupie-ness. After the show I relinquish my light saber to some random hipster and I realize my Blackberry is missing. I eat my chocolate on the ride home.

At 3 AM, my friend’s phone rings and someone named Greezo has found my Blackberry. I go back to sleep.

Day 2
We wander into Austin proper to do some shopping and eat some Tex-Mex. After stuffing my face with fried green tomatoes, gingerbread pancakes and mole verde I consider cancelling my return flight.

We head back towards the festival where I’m due to meet Greezo with my phone. A Google search reveals he is part of the Austin rap group Da C.O.D. with Lil’ J.J. Weezy. Despite the dubious crack-rap credentials, he meets me on the corner of 9th and Red River and returns my phone like a gentleman (Incidentally, their song “Couple Barz” is pretty poppin’).

Now plugged back into society, I go hog wild trying to catch all the bands I want to see. I take in a Chin Chin show at Coup De Ville then jet to see Beach House at Cedar Street Courtyard. The place is overrun with shaggy-haired mofos and I leave after one song. I try to see Margaret Cho and Janeane Garafalo but apparently everyone else in Austin also wishes it was 1995 and I defect the line. I catch a showcase of San Francisco artists and get into the folky, mid-tempo strums of Loquat.

Solange is still sound-checking when I enter the Austin Convention Center. But a few minutes later, ushered in by the “Theme from Shaft” she starts the show with songs like “Dancing in the Dark” and “Sandcastle Disco.” She switches up the tracks with brief covers of The Cardigans’ “Lovefool” and Martha and the Vandellas’ “Heat Wave.” She closes by slipping into the audience and dancing with a giggly fan right next to me.

Devo at a SXSW press conference © Jamil Walker

I get some Lone Star Beer and catch a band called Mirah whose music is too sweet to hold my attention. Out of curiosity I check out Devo. Aside from “Whip It” and Mark Mothersbaugh’s contribution to “Rugrats,” I’m not really a fan but I’m quickly impressed by their snappy new wave. Like smart ol’ geezers they hold the younger people’s attention with juvenile visuals of sticks flying into donut-holes and such. But staying true to my youthful ignorance, I leave after “Whip It.”

I get an empanada and watch UK band Late of the Pier make spectacles of themselves by crowd-surfing on the gawkers outside of the venue who couldn’t get in. I end up back at Coup De Ville to catch Kid Sister who’s losing her voice and sharing the stage with her far more animated brother Josh from Flosstradamus.

Around 3 AM I meet up with my friend and we both decide it’s time to check out the 24-hour IHOP behind our Ramada. I order a chicken-fried steak from a waiter who’s high on life…or cocaine.

Day 3
I check out the storied Fader magazine Fort which is basically a field where they fence in all the hipsters and industry people. There are t-shirt making stations, a photo booth and a Budweiser and Southern Comfort open bar (Woo!).

Solange joins Theophilus London on stage to perform his remix to her song “Sandcastle Disco.” Diplo plays some dancehall and his backup dancer careens around the stage, swathed in layers of shredded white fabric and ratcheting up the awkward factor. This horrible band called PoPo drives me out of the fort for some Tex-Mex. Later, I do my first-ever interview with DJ $mall ¢hange on East Village Radio. Then, I catch Dead Prez and cringe at their liberal use of the N-word.

At 9 PM Kanye West, sans Afro-mullet, kicks off his G.O.O.D. Music showcase with “Amazing.” He inflicts mild torture on the drunk and heat-stricken audience by bringing out B-level G.O.O.D. music artists Consequence and GLC. After songs like “Spaceship” and “Crack Music” he introduces some newer protégés like the promising Big Sean, a slight MC with outsize swagger from Detroit. But British singer Mr. Hudson, with his frosted hair and wayward Backstreet Boy look, thins the crowd with his tepid performance.

Solange at the Austin Convention Center © Jamil Walker

Just as I’m ready to leave, Fonzworth Bentley blasts on-stage with a sharp slant-top fade and Hammer-time dance moves. Kid Cudi leads us through an epic rendition of “Day N Nite” marked by minimal lyrical prowess and lots of jumping around. Then, Common bumrushes the stage with an unruly version of “Universal Mind Control” and he and Kanye climb on speakers and romp in the crowd during “Get ‘Em High.” As Common smoothes it out with “The Light” who else saunters on stage but Texas native Erykah Badu. She belts the chorus to “The Light” and then leads Kanye and Common in a freestyle cipher. A storied two hours to tell the kids one day.

On my 7 AM return flight, worn out from traipsing around to venues and keeping college freshman rager hours, I find myself sitting across from Chuck Inglish of The Cool Kids. I bug him about his thoughts on SXSW and he politely but groggily chats with me. As I doze off, I’m comforted knowing that even stars get affected by the foolishness too.