Hip-hop seems adrift, with no particular faction dominating the pop psyche (or the charts). Bling-rap isn’t resonating as much lately, these being trying times and all. The current landscape is perfect for a multi-facted, thinking artist such as Mos Def, whose fourth studio album, The Ecstatic, continues his impressive body of musical work.

The 35-year-old Brooklyn native — who has, perhaps more than any other rapper, made a mark in film, TV and theater — has never had much use for rules. And even though Mos Def is a middling music star, he still approaches his recordings with a decided indie hip-hop aesthetic.

That shows in his choice of producers —Madlib, Preservation, Mr. Flash, J Dilla — who collectively let the rhythm tracks breath, allowing room for Mos Def’s relaxed, conversational flow. Complementing the urban scrapyard of sounds, snippets of found dialogue and arcane samples are various jazz elements like vibes and horns and a handful of Middle Eastern-type chants.

Mos Def, a Muslim, avoids clichéd ’hood themes in favor of utopian ideas (“Revelation”) and commentary about everyday life (“Workers Comp”).

The album has moments of clever irony — like, on the intro the “The Embassy,” where a captain addresses his passengers and describes in detail the guns they have in the cabin.

While most of the songs find funky mid-paced groove, the occasional uptempo beat brings a welcome burst of energy. “Quiet Dog” pummels along on a fast quasi-swing beat (decorated with handclaps) and throbbing bass, evoking a hip-hop version of Ellington-esque jungle jazz. The percolating “Casa Bey” matches spitfire rhymes with a lush, symphonic soul backdrop.

Not all of the disc’s 16 tracks are gems, but by and large The Ecstatic represents some of the best hip-hop has to offer at the moment. (Downtown)

Check out “Quiet Dog” (with a still photo)

The hip-hop bible Vibe magazine, founded by uber-producer Quincy Jones in 1993, has folded. Jones, who sold the publication in 2006 and was unaware of its dire situation, has vowed to bring it back.

Jones said: “[Owner Wicks Media Group] just messed my magazine all up, but I’m gonna get it back. You better believe it, I’m'a take it online because print and all that stuff is over.”

Read more.

Swine flu

Noun Pathology:

A form of influenza caused by overly aggressive pigs (also known as law enforcement professionals) that occurs commonly after close encounters with these infectious vermin. Symptoms include nausea, despair, and a general lack of a good time.

After a successful performance at the State Theatre in St. Petersburg, I caught a flight this past Friday to rock mics with the rest of B.A.S.E. Inc at Radford University’s Quadfest 2009 in Virginia. We were all excited to play a show together for the first time on our home turf. Little did we know that we were the ones about to get played.

We arrived on Radford’s campus after the four-hour trek from northern Virginia. It was still too early to check into our hotel so we decided hit up the Alpha Sigma Phi frat house where we were scheduled to perform and maybe sneak a sound check in. Despite several earlier assurances that the DJ would have everything we needed, we discovered that he did not.

We had three mics. He had one mic input.

Sound familiar?

Rather than get upset, we dipped out to find the local music store. The folks at Barry’s Music (17 years and counting) were quite helpful but didn’t have any more four-channel mixers. It was apparently a really big party weekend at Radford and they were sold out. They did, however, direct us to the local Radio Shack. That store informed us that they too were lacking what we needed but secured the necessary goods at their Roanoke branch. We headed there immediately, but by now it was 30 minutes after we were scheduled to perform. Our gracious guests agreed to the delay and just told DJ Bonds to keep spinning.

Radford and Roanoke are separated by 50 miles of the pig infested Interstate 81 highway. It was here that F.a.T fell victim to the Virginia strain of swine flu. Allegedly, he was clocked doing 78 miles per hour in a 65MPH zone. I say allegedly because we noticed the unmarked vehicle ahead of us and were only going 60mph when we passed him. I say allegedly because this moving unmarked car is supposedly equipped with the ability to get a radar reading from an antenna placed in the back or front windshield allowing it to read data from all directions provided they are coming from the same plane. I say allegedly because the officer said “I clocked you doing about 78.”

About? Where exactly is “about” on a radar gun/antenna?

While being delayed and detained, it was discovered F.a.T’s license had been suspended unbeknownst to him because of an unpaid parking ticket last month. Our radar technician-slash-patrolmen, who looked a lot like Farva from Super Troopers, notified Jake of his suspended status since the party responsible for suspending his license had failed to do so. Oh, and he confiscated his license on the spot, meaning yours truly got to drive the rest of the way. We finally made it to Roanoke around 3 p.m. with no further trouble and bought what we needed. Our friends at Radio Shack didn’t tell us the mixer didn’t come with a power source or batteries but that was nothing a quick trip to 7/11 couldn’t fix.

We finished introducing ourselves to crowd of almost 300 party-minded students and I turned around to tell Bonds to play the first track in our set, “Smokers Only.” Instead of hitting me with the beat, he dropped a facial expression bomb while pointing behind me in equal parts terror and disgust.

An assorted dozen of local police officers stormed the field, turning our felicitous crowd into fleeing mob. I wasn’t aware that cops could break up parties on private property in the middle of the day. There were no noise complaints or fights.

We weren’t even having wet t-shirt contests like the house across the street. Just music and beer. Perhaps some of the kids were not quite old enough to drink. The officers sure were not checking IDs. They simply told everyone, “If you don’t live here, you gotta go.” Unfortunately, this prodigal son’s triumphant return was thwarted by a sinister strain of swine flu.

In Episode 30 of SMAsh Radio, Joran, Stephen and special guest Infinite Skillz discuss Black History Month, our new black president and Infinite’s love of white girls.

Click the PLUS SIGN to stream the show

Here’s the playlist:

1. Dynasty – Truth
2. Laws & DJ Knucklez (feat. KG) – Top Spot
3. Peaches feat. Shunda K (Yo Majesty) – Buck You Like a Billionaire
4. BASE, Inc. – 49ers
5. Infinite Skillz – N.O.I.S.E
6. Nice Krispy – Never

Stay Up, Tampa Bay!

In the hip-hop community, no one really wants to be labeled a hater. While I don’t hate Lil Wayne, I am far from a fan. I respect the fact that he has put out more music than any other major hip-hop artist in the last five years and probably has the best work ethic of any rapper not named Tupac Shakur. But is doing your job really worth the iconic status he seems to have achieved? I’m going to have to say no. So at the risk of earning the not-so-superlative hater label, I present to you my Top 3 reasons why a dead Biggie Smalls is better than a living Lil Wayne.

Lil Wayne has been successful but is he really a worthy successor?

Coattails

Sean Combs might be the owner, but Christopher “Biggie Smalls” Wallace, better known as the Notorious B.I.G., is responsible for the Bad Boy Entertainment empire. The considerable wealth Combs amassed thanks to Mr. Wallace’s efforts funded his Sean John clothing line and propelled Puff Daddy to stardom. Diddy got a Grammy for his No Way Out album that featured Biggie on five songs. He also gave Lil Kim, the most popular female rapper of her time, her start.

Lil Wayne started as the youngest member of the Hot Boys on Cash Money Records. He started his own label, Young Money Entertainment, but to my knowledge, his most notable artist is Jae Millz. There are reports that he has been collaborating with and may have signed Drake, a talented young Canadian rapper.

Neither Cash Money Records, nor Jae Millz has matched the success of Bad Boy or Lil Kim respectively.

Diction: Ashy to Classy VS Bling Bling

“Ashy to classy” is the hip-hop version of the phrase “rags to riches” that Notorious B.I.G. popularized on the intro to “Sky’s The Limit,” one of his collaborations with the R&B group 112. “Bling Bling” is Ebonics for diamonds or other shiny jewelry. Ashy to classy is still cool to say after almost 12 years in rotation. Bling bling immediately makes you sound like those elderly baby boomers on the Boost Mobile commercials.

Music

The final and most important factor is the music. Despite recording just two albums (Ready To Die and Life After Death) before being murdered on March 9, 1997, Notorious B.I.G. solidified himself as the King of NY and by extension, hip-hop culture as a whole. Tupac Shakur, also now deceased, was the only comparable hip-hop artist at the time.

Conversely, Lil Wayne has made six studio albums and achieved considerable commercial success, yet still fails to hold any crowns other than Louisiana’s best. Many consider T.I. to be the King of the South and while that is highly debatable considering the fact that Ludacris is more accomplished and more popular in their shared hometown of Atlanta, it is definitely up for discussion as to whether little Wayne deserves to even be mentioned with Jay-Z, Biggie’s successor to the title of best alive.

These were only my Top 3 reasons why I think B.I.G. still reigns supreme. Trust me when I say there are many more (like voice and Wayne’s Auto Tune usage). You can say I’m holding onto the past or I have an East Coast bias. You can even call me hater but I’ll still take a dead Biggie over a living Lil Wayne any day.

Over in the record reviews section, I’ve posted a write up of the new Dälek album, Gutter Tactics. Haven’t heard of them?

Give it a read and check them out. Here’s a teaser for you:

Dälek is not your typical rap group; in fact, they are something completely different altogether. Sure, there are beats and rhyming, but it’s not the sort of music that would pass for hip-hop on MTV or in dance clubs. There are no guest rappers littering every other track. There is no hook while the DJ revolves it. This is not 50 Cent pretending to be a thug. Dälek’s closest relatives in the mainstream rap world are Public Enemy. But where PE looped the most abrasive funk samples they could find, Dälek take their cue from My Bloody Valentine and John Cage.

Click here for the full review.

The concert at the Hall with Obie Trice never happened. Mr. Trice canceled on the morning of the show because supposedly his house was raided by law enforcement and he was being detained for questioning. If that smells like Motown manure to you too then congratulations! You’re not gullible either.

He didn’t get arrested. I’d love to ask him face to face the real reason why Mr. Real Name No Gimmicks decided to pull this last minute missed appearance act, but my wish to maintain a clean criminal record will probably keep me from pursuing that.

I was initially informed of the cancellation around 11am the day of the show via Myspace. I called The Mind Syndicate to find out if this was true. They assured me the show was still going on as they had heard nothing about a cancellation, but said they’d call me back after making sure. That return call came around 2PM while I was in the mall with F.a.T and Milo. That’s when I got the original excuse Obie gave them of getting arrested…

At 2:15 in the afternoon I sent out a mass text message to more than 100 people to inform them of the cancellation.

Around 3 p.m. I was contacted by the main house DJ for The Hall to see if we would still perform even if Obie didn’t. He said we would actually be the ONLY act performing. I said yes of course.

At 3:05 I sent out another mass text message reversing my earlier message.

At 9:00 p.m. we arrived at the club and found out they only had one wireless mic and one wired mic located in the DJ booth because the sound company originally scheduled was cancelled when Obie cancelled. We needed three wireless mics.

I made arrangements with a friend for two other mics to be delivered after trying unsuccessfully to find some at Walmart. They arrived at the club around 10pm. After 30 minutes of trying to get them to interface with the mixer in the DJ booth without massive feedback it was determined that it was not possible.

At 10:30  we informed those in attendance that the show was cancelled.

At 10:45 we proceeded to drink ourselves silly.

At 3:00 a.m. I packed three guys and two girls into my truck and proceeded to drive them all back to St. Petersburg.

At 3:20 a.m. this trip was halted because the two ladies decided that the worst night of my music career needed to be punctuated by a backseat catfight. As the fracas spilled into the street, I admittedly raised my voice in utter disbelief that so many things could go wrong on what was supposed to be such a good night. Anger and disappointment sober me up faster than coffee ever could. Eventually the pretty pugilists were subdued enough to allow the convoy to continue.

At 5:30 a.m. after a comparatively uneventful breakfast at IHOP I dropped all my passengers off at their destinations. One of the extras stayed the night at my place on the couch I’d been sleeping on. I slept in my truck. Oh what a night.

So you think you want to be a rapper, eh?  It’s more hard work and hustle than Hennessy and hoes. Gone is the time where you create a little buzz and then sit back and wait for a label/lottery ticket to come and rescue you from your day job. In fact, these days you might want to keep that 9 to 5 even if the majors do come calling. In order to survive, let alone thrive, as an emcee these days, you have to be more and do more than just move the crowd…

Don’t believe me? Take my life lately as I prepare to open up for Obie Trice at The Hall on December 12, 2008. I had call the promoter to make sure everything was going smoothly with little chance of any more last minute madness. What madness you say? Madness like finding out two days before the original show date (October 19th) that it was getting pushed back 2 months. Madness like having to call dozens of friends and fans to tell them thanks for aligning your entertainment calendar with mine but I’m going to need a rain check. Madness like having to get travel and hotel accommodations changed. Madness like having to set up multiple meetings so you can buy back the tickets from the people who can’t make the new date or sell them to the folks that can. Imagine coming down the home stretch of what you think is a sprint only to be told it’s a marathon? It has to feel something like this.

But let’s just assume everything is going smoothly. As a Do-IT-Yourself artist I still need to make a few promotional stops, send out e-mail newsletters, pass out flyers, and organize merchandise to be sold at the show. Then there is actual music stuff like engineering the set playlist and making copies of it so there are fewer variables with the audio engineer at the venue. Rehearsing would not be such a bad idea either.

No mention of all this work in the videos filled with shiny cars and oversized jewelry.  Thankfully, I do this for the love of the mic and not the glamour or the lights, but who knew there was so much to do?

So again I ask, do you really want to be a rapper?

For years, rock and rap had largely forged an unholy alliance thanks to such clown acts as Limp Bizkit. But that’s changed (thanks God!) with forward-thinking young groups like Gym Class Heroes and the most brilliant new hip-hop act of 2008, The Knux. Comprised of brothers Krispy Kream and Rah Al Millio, the sibling duo was born and raised in New Orleans but their sound, style and ethos has more in common with Atlanta stalwarts Outkast than anything to emerge from under the Cash Money umbrella.

On their debut disc Remind Me in 3 Days…, The Knux alternate between odes to everyday pleasures (”Cappuccino”) and the reality of living in a city as famous for its murder rate as it is for good times (”Bang! Bang!”). Those two songs are blowing up on MySpace thanks to their use of big beats, awesomely wacky synths and glossy guitars, the latter of which figure even more prominently on other numbers like “Roxanne” (no, it’s not a Police cover) and reportedly in the duo’s live shows, which featured a band when The Knux first created a buzz opening for Common in late 2007. When The Knux came through Florida recently and played Orlando, they supported Q-Tip. Yeah, Krispy Kream and Rah Al Millio are two extremely talented MCs/musicians who are smartly associating themselves with the upper crust of the old guard. 3.5 stars.

The Knux: “Bang! Bang!”

I’ve been called a lot of different names thus far in my life: jock, nerd, fat boy, lightweight, goofball, transplant, outsider, new guy, frat boy, weirdo, and cool kid. Those were all while I was in school.

Nowadays, I pretty much just go by Infinite Skillz or Infinite for short. My mother just calls me loud. As the middle child, I’ve kind of always needed to be that way. I’d speak early and often, flexing my vocal cords to get noticed. After every loving admonishment, I’d always tell her that one day I’m going to get paid to make noise.

Officially, N.O.I.S.E. stands for the Nation of Infinite Skillz Entertainment, which is my official fan club. Making N.O.I.S.E. is the name of this blog, but it is also my motto. When asked about Hip Hop, President-Elect Barack Obama said that one of the things he admired most about rap artists is their entrepreneurial spirit. He liked the fact that many of my colleagues have started their own record labels becoming moguls instead of commodities. That’s Making N.O.I.S.E.

I too respect hustle and hard work but there is a limit to that. Are you really doing big things if your label roster consists of your hype man and your roommate? That is not Making N.O.I.S.E. That’s you and your homeys playing House: The Hip Hop Edition.

I love meeting new people when I’m out promoting or doing a show, but if I had a nickel for every time someone came at me with “Yo man, I liked your set. I’m the CEO of (insert wack name) Records and I’m always looking for new talent” I’d have enough money to make Diddy go hiking for cheesecake.

Stop it. You’re clowning yourself. Instead of spending money on those double-sided triple glossy full-color business cards, try investing it in your business so you can approach artists from a position of strength and actually be able to help something besides your ego. And spare me the speech about how the underground needs to stick together. You are not the underground. You are a confused individual trapped in a rap role playing game.

Question of the day: How do you tell the grinders from the gamers?

Infinite Skillz is an emcee based out of St. Petersburg. To hear some of his music, go to www.baseincmusic.com.