as much as i try to avoid it, i stay up-to-the-millisecond on what is happening in hip-hop. other things, too, no doubt, but my select few firehoses of hip-hop news (which often isn’t really news to begin with) usually remains open in the form of Chrome tabs that are constantly refreshed.

while we’ve grown accustomed to the overexposure to daily data that the democratized content landscape provides (this IS a CTR world, remember…) a tipping point occurred at random yesterday: about 2944 7-8 mixtapes* hit the web yesterday. one … after … one … like some digital waterboarding.

at first, i cringed at the fact that i was actually being encouraged to digest most of what i absolutely knew wouldn’t be palatable to my Brooklyn-ass Brooklyn sensibility. however, i forcefully reverse-engineered my short-term thinking to unrealize these posts and tweets as forthright endorsements, but as something else in my brief time on the client-side I’ve grown accustomed to inspecting- capabilities presentations.

when you think about it, the modern landscape and capes (as we sometimes call them) have very similar mechanics: you (over)agressively promote + get the right cosign > people finally hold court > you get the floor > if you’re lightning in a bottle, you level up.

boom. the drake-onian formula. the cudian equation.

looking at it from that perspective allows for two things to snob-deep enthusiasts like myself:

-ability to listen objectively and with a clear mind to allow for context.
-empathize with those who might actually enjoy it if you particularly don’t. music is becoming more and more of a communal phenomenon, and it isn’t worth the time, energy, (or grumpy reputation) to argue with the crowd.

from an agency’s POV, capabilities are the first line of communication to a desired audience, but in order to truly break through, timing, tastefulness, and relevant differentiation are the perfect storm of “leveling up”.

hopefully, a harmony bestows itself on the digital landscape, and artists and publishers alike can perfect contextual delivery of their content.

*please be advised that I am not a proponent for the primitive use of the term ‘mixtape’. in fact, it pisses me off, often times. can we figure out a modern term?  

My favorite artist during my early adolescent years was Busta Rhymes. In spite of my parents’ consistent and stern disapproval of his lyrical content (which, in turn, prompted me to listen even more), “Woo-Hah!!” was the first cassette single that I broke through excessive listening.

You see, like many Brooklynites, I grew up in a household devoid of cable television, so for me to successfully retain content, I employed one of three tactics:

-spend way too much time in the barbershop, post-Ceasar
-Ralph McDaniels (VMB on Saturday night)
-The Box aka Channel 39 on UHF.

More often then not, I turned to The Box to not only watch videos (there were no genre filters, which made the viewing experience wack juice), but to occasionally order them. For those who don’t remember, The Box famously positioned themselves as “music television YOU control”- which in today’s context, really isn’t the control we’ve grown accustomed to (just another testament to how far things have come). In any event, this antiquated form of access spurned irrational behavior such as paying $11 to request “Woo-Hah!!” twice, its glorious mind-bending remix featuring ODB, and then waiting attentively and for the videos to play simply so I can record them on VHS.

If there are any adolescents reading this now, you’re probably wondering – what the HELL is wrong with this guy? And for good reason.

Earlier this month, Spotify officially launched in the US- a service I suspect to be a game changer for the music enthusiast. With the old adage of “consumption up, profit down”, Spotify has essentially created a perfect storm of discovery, active participation, and curation that will no doubt change the way people engage in music. I’ve been using the service for several months now and despite the persistent empty room, I’ve reconnected with songs (rare joints, indeed) that I’d normally find/listen to on YouTube without the pressure of having to qualify a purchase.

I tend to think of Spotify, Turntable.fm, and the forthcoming cloud invasion as the The Box’s desire for total viewer control coming full circle. All those minutes waiting in front of the TV and parents’ dollars wasted on one video (one video!!) are now, in essence, spent refining my tastes and discovering new ones by virtue of the people who’s opinion I value the most.

True control finally realized, and a wealth of culture for those who choose to digest it (brands and people alike).

{SUITS STILL SUCK!}

In the weeks preceding Kanye’s immortalized first solo show at SOBs back in 2003, I remember getting into several college lunchroom (and dorm room) arguments over whether or not the already-noteworthy producer could rap. Aside from “The Bounce” off Blueprint 2, at the time, there really wasn’t anything publicly facing (or mixshow-facing for that matter) that helped support my case that he was going to be important. Not just “big” or on “son is poppin’” status, but a true value add- an asset- to the culture and the economics of its entertainment landscape.

I forget exactly how I did it, but I managed to collect a few scattered freestyles from across some random message boards with hopes of piecing together some adequate proof that Kanye was, in fact, dope, and that his contributions as a going-against-the-grain-but-still-acceptable traditionalist and music purist to what was, at-the-time, an unstoppable force, but a label which represented everything but middle-class.

Anyway, after playing those joints for my crew of Doubting Thomases (some of whom work in the music industry now, coincidentally), the monumental project “I’m Good” (the classic mixtape that was released right after his infamous car accident- kicking off a series of events which unfolded so opportunistically that it made him the urban manifestation of an “outlier”… but I digress…) dropped, and that became all the proof I needed.

A few weeks later, a few of us took to SOBs, and the rest, as they say, is history.

A quick aside: Urban America has experienced a cultural shift specifically in the second half of the last decade, largely defined by widespread Internet penetration and democratization of information… and the former “gatekeepers” growing irrelevant and obsolete entering a new life stage.

Quick jump in the Delorean (or hot tub, if you prefer), and here we are seven years later. Same place. SOBs.

To Varick and Houston I returned early last week, in anticipation to hear to what J. Cole, Roc Nation’s ace-in-hole, had to offer. I had met Cole quickly almost a year ago backstage at a Wale show in the East Village, and even before the attention and recognition, he struck me as a very cool cat.

The stage was already set, the story drafted to perfection- (I’m just sayin’, “Jay-Z Protégé Performs On Same Sold-Out Stage As Kanye Seven Years Late! Everyone’s Faith In Hip-Hop Is Renewed!” is a layup for today’s authenticity-starved blogosphere)- and to say the least, I was impressed.

But not fulfilled.

I left the show with a certain perplexity that I couldn’t shake- was it that I began to realize that the reasons that I valued hip-hop were evolving into something different, or worse, invalid? Like any hip-hop fan, I played Devil’s Advocate and immediately compared what I just saw in young Cole to the immediate, unswerving awe and impact I felt when first hearing Jay-Z, Kanye, Nas, etc., because they’re the gold standard- those who left the game different from when they first touched it (in my experience at least). Right after the show, my emotional investment just didn’t look like it’d pay dividends with Cole as he was very calculated and was following a predesigned roadmap- ultimately, I wanted to hear something truly new… something I couldn’t fully grasp but would be drawn to.

However, after a brief IM conversation with my good friend (and Billboard.com editor) Mariel Concepcion the next day, I realized that my stubborn, content-spoiled Brooklyn ass wasn’t being fair. In fact, I was being a cabezón for failing recognize Cole for what he’s already accomplished and contributed- an honest, wonderfully-crafted project in The Warm Up, and a stage presence that was polished far beyond his experience would suggest. Over the last few days, I listened to The Warm Up with a more purposeful ear, and I feel confident saying that his range, depth of lyrics, and versatility of delivery have earned J. Cole a place at today’s influential roundtable (who, for all intents and purposes, includes Drake, Jay Electronica, Kid Cudi, and Donnis. But that’s just me. And my track record is flawless.),  and considered to be of XXL’s systematic 2010 Freshmen Class.

I say that to say this: if you’re a hip-hop cynic, keep your “show and prove” shield up, as it’s your filter to block out nonsense- your defense against the dark arts, if you will . But lend an ear to J. Cole and embrace what he’s about to prove… because all the stars are seemingly aligning in his benefit.

A close colleague of mine (whose image I’ve cropped out in respect of his privacy)was putting together names for an upcoming seeding (using the word “influencer” to describe myself is too vain. plus you all already know. ha!) initiative his agency is executing, and he IMed me to let me know.

One can only wish, right? lol…

For those who are reading that don’t fully understand the context of the above microconvo, click here for Mr. Kirshenbaum’s stats.

SUITS!

Please excuse my lack of contribution as of late- I’ve been in South Florida (Ft. Lauderdale/Miami) this week for client meetings with AgencyNet.

Please believe I have some heat on deck!

There’s no doubt that the words “legend”, “guru”, “influencer” are beginning to lose the strength in meaning in this day and age where there are a plethora of novices seemingly self-appointing themselves titles with every FB update, Tweet, and blog entry. (To be honest, when snake oil salesmen approach me and tell me what they do (and do for me/my clients), I simply say “let me look at the work”, which is usually followed by a blank stare…) There are times, however, where the reputation and résumé of an individual not only precede them, but also shine through.

Such is the case with Daniel Hastings.

He’s shot the covers for some of the most influential hip-hop albums of my time, including Return to the 36 Chambers, I Am…, Doe or Die, Capital Punishment, and Only Built 4 Cuban Linx… In addition, he’s responsible for immortalizing the legends of today in their infancy, including Jay-Z (for his first ever magazine cover, Stress, in 1996), Eminem, Tony Touch, GangStarr, EPMD, and more. There are very few people who’ve amassed such a vast wealth of work within such a short amount of time, and yet he remains a quiet assassin… the name of the game is show and prove folks, show and prove.

Last week, he held a small reception in Tribeca to preview the release of his 2010 calendar (which will be available soon), and some of the images took me back. Wayyyyy back.

More pics after the jump (taken on my iPhone).

SUITS!

November 18th (Richie Cruz. Not Drake.) from suitsiswatching on Vimeo.

Messed around with Photoshop and iMovie a bit last night.

SUITS!

I’m ashamed to say I’ve never read any of Mr. Dyson’s work, but I’ll definitely begin with this one.

Available 12/18 via Amazon (though I wish it was sooner…)