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!}

(DISCLAIMER: This post contains the thoughts of the individual author, and in no way reflects the opinions of his employer or its affiliates.)

We believe that, at its core, culture always wants to change- especially pop culture. In fact, change it its whole job. Cultural change is imminent, waiting for random events, either large or small, that will push it over the edge.

In the end, cultural change is the product of an alchemy of events and individual influence. As the cultural conditions change, the change is expressed in particular events; influencers become early detectors of this change and communicate it to the rest of the community.

-Alex Bogusky, “Baked In”

Welcome back, smart hip-hop promotional marketing. And have a nice weekend.

KEAPHOPE INTRO

It’s funny how times have changed. As music has gone to a mostly digital world we’ve lost a lot of the importance of cover art and overall branding that used to go into making a project stand out. We’ve seen some recent examples of good work here and there, and its those exceptions that inspired this conversation to start. While distracting myself on twitter from the growing mountain of work for the day job I checked the homie Richie Cruz’s twitter update talking about a release with something special, Curren$y’s upcoming, Pilot Talk. Richie was praising the originality of the artwork, and reading his statement, I found myself nodding in agreement and immediately emailed Richie to talk about getting this conversation going. After a quick lunch, we found ourselves on the same page with music art. We will be sharing these musing both here on KeapHope and on Richie’s personal blog,Suits Is Watching.

Over the coming weeks Richie and I will take some time to present one upcoming project a week and dig into the details that round out these releases creatively, beyond the music, to make them standout among the seemingly thousands of free downloads, mixtape, torrent searches and classic releases that fill our itunes daily. We begin with the project that launched the discussion, Curren$y’s, Pilot Talk.

After the jump, intro thoughts from Suits Is Watching and our conversation on Pilot Talk

SUITS IS WATCHING INTRO

Honestly, album art and inserts are (were) the reason I’m such a hip-hop snob. The thing about hip-hop is that we don’t always require the most incredible, thought-provoking Canibusesque rhymes or photoshoots with million dollar budgets- those things are great at surface value, but usually don’t pay dividends in the grand scheme of things. All I ask for is honesty and some type of artistic integrity (sounds like a pipe dream, but I have faith that it exists somewhere…) Ultimately, the demise of the CD has led to something interesting… and great. Music is everywhere. Google a song name, it pops up in mp3 format with the associated artwork transfixed neatly next to it. The problem is that its about 5 pixels tall by 5 pixels wide.

Ok, that’s an exaggeration, but you get my point.

More music being downloaded means more artwork needs to be produced. Standards need to be established for digital single/mixtape/album art…so they can be broken and surpassed by another. The amazing thing is that we’re living in a time where access to tools like Photoshop enable everyone to create. The problem is, every one shouldn’t (even if they can). Hopefully through the subsequent posts, Jamie and I can figure out what the hell is going on, and make sense to what should be applauded and frowned upon as artwork battles for the blog, the iTunes corner, and most importantly, the iPhone screen.

THE CONVERSATION

KEAPHOPE:

Before we even get too deep into this project, I just wanted to comment on your email notes for the project. You made a great point on the size relationship to music, with all of our current relationship to music art being limited to the lower corner of itunes and maybe the screen on an iphone/ipod. How much do you think this is changing the work? Is it becoming something that requires readability at a super small scale? Talk about a big change from the 12×12 world of vinyl covers.

I remember reading something about Kanye’s cover art for 808’s, about how its simplicity translated in the modern space. Clean lines, no photo, just text. It worked great for the mood of the album but more importantly was a strong visual cue to what was actually being listened to. Lets start with this point as jump off point for the Curren$y project. First off what makes this work great? For me it starts simply with getting away from the played out BIG ASS HEADSHOT cover that so many new artists use. Here we have illustration, down to the text.

How readable is it small? Well, maybe not super readable but it think its clearly Spitta. The color alone is a cue that Curren$y has embraced, from his love of herb to his JETS logo use. That alone give a nice visual reference to the listener when glancing down at that ipod.

Illustration. How great is this? DD172 has done a couple pieces in this style, and there is a good crew poster with headshots of all of the memebers in this similar free flowing look. To me it evokes the clouds of smoke you think of when picturing a Curren$y show and you’ve got to love the New York to New Orleans elements from the skyline to the Super Dome.

SUITS IS WATCHING:

Well, as someone who appreciates depth, dualities, and metaphors, it was fresh to see a contemporary rapper incorporate a “look beneath the surface” approach to illustration while maintaining some universal elements that won’t box out the masses that refuse to think. I’m not a creative director by any stretch of the imagination, but I work with the best of ‘em (ha!), and I’m pretty sure that they’d appreciate the boldness (not to mention the symbolic significance) implied with the heavy use of green. It immediately reminds me of how purple was used as the dominant color in Big Boi’s first installment of “Got Purp?” (ironic how weed references define the hues…)

Another interesting thing worth noting is the absence of Curren$y’s likeness in the cover. The classically-trained marketer in me is screaming, “It’s his debut album! People need to see him!”, but the culturally-aware marketer in me feels the opposite and recognizes that this is actually a blessing in disguise. The artwork for “King Kong” and “The Hangover” are consistent in aesthetic, setting up this final “big reveal”. Also, as self-assured and cocky as his rhymes are, he isn’t arrogant or narcissistic- his rhymes are his identity, and he chooses to define himself through his words- which, in the attention-starved landscape, is admirable.

All in all, I think your man is onto something. In linking with an “art collective” in DD172, he’s engineering both mystique and artistic credibility at the same time, setting a foundation for himself while setting himself apart from the status quo.

Regardless of performance, he’s already won a victory in my book.

KEAPHOPE:

You make some great points. Is the weed thing too much sometimes? Maybe, but this dude is playing perfectly into his audience. He knows who is buying his music and why. The kids need something to ride to and from what I’ve heard, this won’t dissapoint. I can easily picture this cover up front in a video with Curren$y and Wiz Khalifa breaking up bud on the top of the jewel case. It has a bit of a timelessness to it that I think you may have hit on with the no photo setup. There is a tactic we don’t see much. It seems way to easy to go ahead and throw an artists mug on the front a CD with some of-the-moment type treatment and call it a day. This steps enough away from that system to really make its mark.

I like that you brought up the single cover art for “King Kong” and “The Hangover.” Here we have three different treatments, each with their own style that make them standout on their own, but we have some similarities through out. First on “King Kong” we actually get a glimpse of a Spitta character, still illustrated, but perched over the destruction below. All black/white/grey and looking like a foot in the door, “I’m here now pay attention” message to the hip-hop community. This is a dude who has been aligned with No Limit, Cash Money and now sort-of-Roc-a-fella, but def Dame Dash and this is him being presented like his first true release. While most will sort of snicker at the idea of a dude with a near thousand+ song catalog calling this his debut, I agree with Richie on this being an introduction to the masses. Fitting for the cover art on “King Kong,” the firs single for the project.

Next we look at the Mikey Rocks assisted cut, “The Hangover.” Again illustrated ties to the other content, though this time with a slightly more colorful setting. Funny if you were too consider this the results of a night full of, Pilot Talk, infused fun. I like the almost Art Deco inspired treatment to Curren$y’s name on the “King Kong” cover that seems to be revisited here in the color palette and comic’d treatment to this cover. At first glance one might not see that the pool scene is completely trashed from a night of debauchery, but to me that ties in perfectly with the idea of a hangover, like the movie, its not always clear till you start piecing together the details. The type treatment here ties in well being almost an after thought, scrawled in to the cover like a name and number on a napkin. To me this looks like a sample sketch that was refined and left a bit loose and compliments the more detailed refinement we see on the albums true cover.

I think its important we at least mention the artist involved in the illustration of the cover. Pilot Talk, was illustrated by David Barnett, the Creative Director for DD172. I haven’t been able to find out too much information on the artist, but lets hope his work continues to influence the direction of the DD172 collective and rings out among other new projects from the rest of the hip-hop community. Mr Barnett, if you ever want to get down on the next conversation be sure to drop me a line.

Till the next Covered Conversation go out and cop, Pilot Talk, in store today.

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.

The other day I was listening to “Beamer, Benz, or Bentley”, the awe-inspiring yet thematically out-of-place-with-the-times opus by Lloyd Bank$ & Juelz Santanta, when it occurred to me that there was an astounding 8 or 9 playful imitations iterations simultaneously being discussed on various blogs, web magazines, and mechanism for self-promotion on Twitter, etc. If I didn’t know any better, I might not know who’s song was the original.

Do we even know who produced the joint? Theoretically, if ‘Elz and Banks propagated it into our consciousness, they’re more promoters of the beat than they are owners of it- something that is alarming in this era where the life cycle of a “single” is comparable to that of a palm tree growing in Canada.

How did we get here?

Pardon me if I’m overstating the obvious, but this dynamic exists in part as a result of a lack of quality filters. And the truth is, current standards don’t call for one in these rabid days of UGC and digital entitlement. There’s no respect or “content etiquette”- ideologically, everything has become one big, flat (and boring) plateau. The dominance that the blogosphere (and I’m referring to those who are more glorified citizen reporters than journalists) has attained by promoting and encouraging a cacophony of unauthorized- and often uninspiring- “remixes” immediately after a joint has come out has withered our appetite for flava flavor. We’re being fed content so rapidly, our tastes have dissolved, and as a byproduct, our standards have devolved.

How have we become desensitized to hot sh*t?

I don’t consider myself an old head to be reminiscing on days past, but I do consider myself someone of discerning taste and understanding of the role that different events played within the musical environment. If you jumped on another beat unauthorized, it was a beat jack, and in the case that it was done tastefully, it was reserved for late-night Flex, or a Clue? tape. Period. Additionally, your rendition was never called the “remix”- it was rightfully called “part 2”, or some alternate version (See: “Money, Cash, Hoes”. And it’s baby brother, the marvelous Money, Cash, Hoes (Part II)”).

I remember hearing the clever, breakthrough social satire genius that was Sporty Thievez’s “No Pigeons” in ’98 and thinking to myself in simultaneous perplexity and awe, “That isn’t their beat! How can they be on the radio going at TLC on their own joint?” Ownership was implied. It was revered. Today? Not so much.

To be fair, this dynamic of transparent entitlement has paid dividends within the career of certain artists: arguably, Kid Cudi wouldn’t have eventually attained critical mass if the abstract “Day N’ Nite” never made it across Jim Jones’s and Pitbull’s respective radars (ironic how in this case the large rappers act as early adopters. Who knew?). However, it opened up the floodgates for everyone to have a “Day N’ Nite”. Fast forward a year and a half, and everyone wants you to hear their “Exhibit C”, or their “Over” (which hasn’t been out more than two weeks!)… Ugh.

IF IT’S EVERYONE’S JOINT, WAS IT EVER ANYONE’S JOINT?

I say that to say this:

If hip-hop music is organically transitioning into a “riddim” culture, where artists are culturally inclined to be competitive on a dedicated beat, I think that’s pretty fresh, and certainly good for producers. But we need to ensure that this tipping of the scales is more pronounced, and allow new norms to be well, norms- giving the masses a defined culture to indulge in and guidelines to adhere to. Otherwise, the “I’m jumping on this because I got the instrumental, and I’m shooting a video because I can” attitude will continue to stain the game that is dying for some creativity. Literally.

Hip-hop was always more fun when there were rules.

[Their] generation is about something completely different. Let me tap into their generation and see what they like. because if I kept my mind on what I like … I wouldn’t make it. I gotta always stay relevant.

-Snoop Dogg on the “Juan Epstein” podcast, 12/22/09

Drake’s triumphant first official single was released several hours ago to the web (exactly where, I have no idea, but Twitter has almost completely replaced my need for HOT97- a tear almost comes to my eye saying that), and he officially enters the commercial landscape in grandiose fashion. (As if anything less was expected). In efforts to blot out the forthcoming groundswell of hype, I downloaded from one of the what seemed like hundreds of available links everywhere to indulge in the sh*t the GQ golden child was shovelin’.

DRAKE. OVER.

The ability to instantaneously and utterly completely command the attention of the Twittersphere and spread throughout social media like a steroid-infused game of telephone is uncanny. And yes, there is much to be said about his behind-the-veil superteam and his engineered success, but if history serves us correctly, it’s best to focus on the content- which up to this point, has been quality. Despite my preexistent skepticism, I can now affirm that I’m intrigued at witnessing the progression of (and working with) the millenial generation’s first true cluster of relevant artists (excluding KanYe, who birthed their style).

Thank him later.

SUITS!

Here is the very oft-requested audio from a super dope episode of Table Manners featuring DJ Wonder a few months back. All for your listening pleasure.

Oh, I’ll be liberating a bunch of the sessions and DJ sets from our guests over the next few weeks.

DJ WONDER x TABLE MANNERS

Peace to Wonder, Yonny, and Jayson Rodriguez for bringing relevance to holding down Delaware.

Earlier this week, the really good folks at 94×50 & NSW flexed their creative + marketing muscles and allowed me to partake in a very uniquely curated one-night experience.

It basically happened like this…. a delivery man showed up to my office with a mysterious paper bag (with the exception of my name etched in Sharpie, it was unmarked). I opened the bag, and removed its contents-  a miniature orange Nike box, suited for either a baby or  an adult with abnormally tiny feet. Inside the box was a burner (if you don’t know what that means, please watch The Wire), and a strip of paper with instructions to text my name to a random number. It texted me back with a time and address.

Now, there aren’t many brands that could pull of a Matrix-esque invitation process and keep the mystique (and expectations) high, but if there is one thing I know, it’s to never ever-ever-ever-ever-ever come here no more doubt Nike.

I showed up to said location, my expectations wide open, and there was a party bus waiting on the corner. Jumped on the bus, and saw a bunch of colleagues, friends, and influential people I hold in high regard on board. I sat down next to the homie Jonathan Mannion, and asked him what this was all about, to which he responded, “I have no idea”. If he didn’t know, it was safe to assume nobody did.

The bus took about 20 of us to Tompkins Park, where Bobbito (random!) was in the middle of the playground, along with a bag of DD hot chocolate. After greeting everyone, he kicked off the evening with anecdotes on his career, and the role that the Air Force One played throughout. (Light bulb!) I know a lot of self-proclaimed and industry-recognized sneaker/cultural anthropologists/historians, but I’ve never encountered someone who is as genuine about his affinity for sneakers, their underlying stories, and their cultural relevance, as this man. As a marketer in a volatile industry (and consumer) landscape, it’s an anomaly to witness someone who lives way beyond advocacy to the extent that he does- he’s now the validator for the brand, a conduit for its ongoing relevance.

Bobbito @ Tompkins Park from suitsiswatching on Vimeo.

After his monologue, we boarded the bus again somewhat reassured enlightened, and were off to destination #2. After about 10 minutes, we pulled up in front of an unmarked building (for a brand that owns the world’s most iconic logo, it sure has a fixation with unmarked sh*t), boarded an elevator, took it to the 6th (or 3rd- I can’t remember) floor, and walked down the hall into a studio…where Clark Kent was waiting for us. In the same vain as Bobbito, he kept the evening’s program going by offering his unique perspective on Ones. He also broke down his next collaboration with the brand, and per his request, I won’t go into it. But it’s ill. Like super dope ill.

After about 30 minutes in the studio, we got on the bus again for what would be our last stop of the evening- Crif Dogs/PDT in the Village. I’d never been, but I heard about it, and I was pretty hungry. So I OD’ed. At the end of the night, they gave us each a pair of the buttas.

The above slideshow has all the evidence. (I had no idea what I was getting into, so all I had to boot was my iPhone. It was pretty dark throughout, so apologies for the less-than-spectacular imagery- you can check Yoshi’s pics and account of the evening here…)

In retrospect, it was very well-presented, and impressive shot in the arm to the unique culture that was bred, and still lives, here. Peace to Heron, Kristen, Will, Will P., Jonathan Mannion, Va$htie, Chad, Scott, Yoshi, Susana, Bradley C., Chris Vidal, Paul Rivera, and shouts to NSW x 94×50 – you guys really bodied that, and illustrated a sensibility and passion that usually gets lost within the process.

Christopher Rios, p/k/a Big Punisher a/k/a Big Pun died exactly 10 years ago today. Not only was he one of my favorite rappers, but the impact that he made on the hip-hop community was instant, and reverberated throughout the country.

As someone who was an ultra hip-hop head during the years that Big Pun rose to prominence, his existence (although short) has a special meaning for me. Usually, when I get into the barbershop-esque arguments with colleagues and friends (and you know how heated those can get) over who the greatest MCs of all time were, I’ve always mentioned Big Punisher, and usually the response is “you’re saying that because you’re Puerto Rican!”.

Um, na.

In efforts to avoid a “Hip-Hop is just as much Latino as it is Black” argument, I’ll just say this: Big Pun’s achievements within the scope of two years were like the appearance of Haley’s Comet or a solar eclipse- these events don’t happen often, but when they do, it’s special.

And although he wasn’t a perfect man (no man is), his masterful, wizard-like alignment of words and phrases, matched with his razor-sharp wit, charisma, and sense of humor made him an artist so unique that it’s almost embarrassing that he isn’t as celebrated as some of the greats.

That being said, the next time you listen to “Capital Punishment”, remember that what you’re listening to might never happen again for another millennium, until a child is born that can perform at a level beyond
.

SUITS!

Daniel Hastings, myself, and Mickey Factz (along with the Table Manners crew) talking about individual memories of Big Pun, who passed away 10 years ago this week.

More Big Pun posts to come this week. Boricua!