JOE BUDDEN
“Padded Room”
(Amalgam Digital)
Joe Budden would like you to know that he’s fine. Just fine, thank you. Taking exception to an early review of “Padded Room,” this New Jersey rapper’s second proper solo album, that described him as frustrated with the record business, he took to the Internet to make one thing clear.
“Joe Budden fans, Internet soldiers, anyone else on the Internet, reviewers, critics, haters, chat room visitors,” he said, exhausted, in a clip posted on YouTube. “I am not frustrated with anything. I’m not frustrated with the Internet, the music industry, downloading, bloggers, vloggers, rappers, record sales, record labels, executives, radio.”
Fine, see?
Even though he was talking, not rapping, it still sounded like a lot of Joe Budden’s songs, which are generally more like monologues or, at times, harangues. A couple of early club-friendly hits notwithstanding, Mr. Budden has made much hay of his complex, often troubled inner life. “They say my symptoms are aggressive,” he raps here, on “Angel in My Life.” “They title me a compulsive obsessive-slash-manic depressive.” But really, he’s just a classic Woody Allen-level neurotic, worrying his issues until they’re rubbed raw.
That makes “Padded Room” a curious and often inspired album, a set of reflections in mirrors held up at different angles. On “If I Gotta Go,” as he has done before, he talks about his childhood gone bad: “Problem is, I’m smarter than everybody/But too numb to show it/and they too dumb to know it.” He chronicles despicable misbehavior with women on “I Couldn’t Help It.” And the stirring “Do Tell” is composed almost entirely of apologies. (To his father: “I tried to find myself, but I was your replica/I mean, I only tried to be what you never was.”)
But while Joe Budden is enamored of his rhymes, which are taut, intricate and structurally varied, he raps in a scraped-up monotone, a technician first and stylist second. Occasionally he’ll slip into a clipped bellow like Scarface to emphasize a point, but mostly he lets his words do the talking. And since he’s thinking hard, unforgiving of everyone including himself, it’s little wonder everyone thinks he’s frustrated. JON CARAMANICA
Monday, February 23, 2009
Friday, February 20, 2009
DMC in the NYT
Putting Together a Hamburger, a Neighborhood and Hip-Hop
By COREY KILGANNON
Published: February 19, 2009
On a nondescript street corner in Hollis, Queens, a small — and quite affordable — burger joint opened recently.
The place, Hollis Famous Burgers, offers mini-burgers for $1; for that price diners get a complimentary viewing of the Hollis Hip Hop Museum. The word “museum” might be a bit of an overstatement, given the space, but the collection and what it celebrates are not, at least not to the people behind it.
There are more than 100 items on the walls testifying to the neighborhood as a fertile ground for hip-hop artists. Along with a helping of chicken wings, washed down with a cup of “Hollis Famous” lemonade, customers can examine the hit CDs of local rap legends, like Ja Rule, LL Cool J, and Irv Gotti, the founder of Murder Inc., the hip-hop record company that launched several careers.
“Hollis is our Motown, our Nashville, our Beale Street,” said Orville Hall, 42, the owner of the restaurant, and a childhood friend of the members of Run-DMC, which happens to be the best-represented rap group in the burger joint — rather, museum.
At the grand opening on Thursday afternoon, Mr. Hall explained that there was something about Hollis “back in the day” that seemed to nurture hip-hop artists. There was a keen desire for live D.J.’s and M.C.’s at local parties.
It was a working-class black neighborhood that was tough but not bleak. The rap lyrics from neighborhood artists had swagger but were clean enough to be offered to the mainstream.
Mr. Hall decided that Hollis, and perhaps his own business interests, would be best served by pairing a burger restaurant with the museum. On Thursday his venture got the blessing of DMC, whose real name is Darryl McDaniels and who recited a few of his famous lyrics.
Standing near his gold and platinum records, Mr. McDaniels said he wanted people in the neighborhood to use them as proof of the power of persistence to succeed, whatever the odds.
“Because we did something good, people in hoods all over the world were able to look at us and say, ‘Yo, I know what I can do, and I know what I can be.’ If you don’t believe it, then history is on the wall, homie.”
Mr. McDaniels donated one of his gold records (“Run-DMC”) and a platinum one (“Raising Hell”).
The location of the museum, at Hollis Avenue and 203rd Street, is not a glamorous one. Neighboring storefronts are shuttered with metal roll-down barricades tagged with graffiti and across the street, the windows of a building are boarded up.
Amid the celebration there was poignancy. Jam Master Jay, Run-DMC’s turntable master, did not live to see it. He grew up a few steps from the restaurant, on 203rd Street, where he was, earlier in life, known as Jason Mizell. He was shot and killed in 2002 in his recording studio on nearby Merrick Avenue. His murder remains unsolved.
The most prominent display in the museum is a large portrait of Mr. Mizell looking solemnly downward. The portrait bears the words “From Hollis to Hollywood.” A turntable and a display case with a pair of Adidas sneakers draped with a fat gold chain hang alongside.
Mr. McDaniels, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt with the logo of the rock band AC/DC, arrived in a black Lincoln Navigator. He hugged the people he recognized.
There was Kenny Thompson, 41, who was once known as Kenny Krash for his flair on turntables when he played with — and worked for — Run-DMC. Now he drives a New York City Transit bus in Manhattan; he arrived straight from work, wearing his blue uniform.
There was Douglas Hayes, 44, who was known as the rapper Butter Love and who performed with Run-DMC on the single “It’s the Beat.”
There was Shannon Dennis who said he was a D.J. from Queens; he arrived with Run-DMC blasting from his 1980 canary yellow Cadillac. He was dressed as a member of the band, complete with black bowler hat and thick gold chain.
Mr. McDaniels said he hoped the museum would help heal the wound created by Mr. Mizell’s murder.
Mr. Hall said his desire to open a tribute to Run-DMC stretched back to the early 1980s when he first heard his friends performing “Sucker MCs” on the radio.
“I was shocked,” he said, “that local guys we knew could take their talent and make something of themselves, which is what rap is all about.”
By COREY KILGANNON
Published: February 19, 2009
On a nondescript street corner in Hollis, Queens, a small — and quite affordable — burger joint opened recently.
The place, Hollis Famous Burgers, offers mini-burgers for $1; for that price diners get a complimentary viewing of the Hollis Hip Hop Museum. The word “museum” might be a bit of an overstatement, given the space, but the collection and what it celebrates are not, at least not to the people behind it.
There are more than 100 items on the walls testifying to the neighborhood as a fertile ground for hip-hop artists. Along with a helping of chicken wings, washed down with a cup of “Hollis Famous” lemonade, customers can examine the hit CDs of local rap legends, like Ja Rule, LL Cool J, and Irv Gotti, the founder of Murder Inc., the hip-hop record company that launched several careers.
“Hollis is our Motown, our Nashville, our Beale Street,” said Orville Hall, 42, the owner of the restaurant, and a childhood friend of the members of Run-DMC, which happens to be the best-represented rap group in the burger joint — rather, museum.
At the grand opening on Thursday afternoon, Mr. Hall explained that there was something about Hollis “back in the day” that seemed to nurture hip-hop artists. There was a keen desire for live D.J.’s and M.C.’s at local parties.
It was a working-class black neighborhood that was tough but not bleak. The rap lyrics from neighborhood artists had swagger but were clean enough to be offered to the mainstream.
Mr. Hall decided that Hollis, and perhaps his own business interests, would be best served by pairing a burger restaurant with the museum. On Thursday his venture got the blessing of DMC, whose real name is Darryl McDaniels and who recited a few of his famous lyrics.
Standing near his gold and platinum records, Mr. McDaniels said he wanted people in the neighborhood to use them as proof of the power of persistence to succeed, whatever the odds.
“Because we did something good, people in hoods all over the world were able to look at us and say, ‘Yo, I know what I can do, and I know what I can be.’ If you don’t believe it, then history is on the wall, homie.”
Mr. McDaniels donated one of his gold records (“Run-DMC”) and a platinum one (“Raising Hell”).
The location of the museum, at Hollis Avenue and 203rd Street, is not a glamorous one. Neighboring storefronts are shuttered with metal roll-down barricades tagged with graffiti and across the street, the windows of a building are boarded up.
Amid the celebration there was poignancy. Jam Master Jay, Run-DMC’s turntable master, did not live to see it. He grew up a few steps from the restaurant, on 203rd Street, where he was, earlier in life, known as Jason Mizell. He was shot and killed in 2002 in his recording studio on nearby Merrick Avenue. His murder remains unsolved.
The most prominent display in the museum is a large portrait of Mr. Mizell looking solemnly downward. The portrait bears the words “From Hollis to Hollywood.” A turntable and a display case with a pair of Adidas sneakers draped with a fat gold chain hang alongside.
Mr. McDaniels, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt with the logo of the rock band AC/DC, arrived in a black Lincoln Navigator. He hugged the people he recognized.
There was Kenny Thompson, 41, who was once known as Kenny Krash for his flair on turntables when he played with — and worked for — Run-DMC. Now he drives a New York City Transit bus in Manhattan; he arrived straight from work, wearing his blue uniform.
There was Douglas Hayes, 44, who was known as the rapper Butter Love and who performed with Run-DMC on the single “It’s the Beat.”
There was Shannon Dennis who said he was a D.J. from Queens; he arrived with Run-DMC blasting from his 1980 canary yellow Cadillac. He was dressed as a member of the band, complete with black bowler hat and thick gold chain.
Mr. McDaniels said he hoped the museum would help heal the wound created by Mr. Mizell’s murder.
Mr. Hall said his desire to open a tribute to Run-DMC stretched back to the early 1980s when he first heard his friends performing “Sucker MCs” on the radio.
“I was shocked,” he said, “that local guys we knew could take their talent and make something of themselves, which is what rap is all about.”
Friday, February 13, 2009
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Interesting Music Industy Piece in the New York Times
Facing the Music of a Heavy Debt
Charles O. Prince III, the deposed chief executive at Citigroup, probably didn’t mean it literally when he equated the credit boom to a musical dance. Mr. Prince may not have been a great banker, but he certainly was prescient.
Just this week, the company that pioneered easy listening in elevators, Muzak, filed for bankruptcy protection; Sirius XM Radio began preparing its own Chapter 11 filing; and Clear Channel Communications, the nation’s largest radio station owner, tapped a last-resort credit line.
What common refrain — apart from filling the air with dulcet tones — unites these three companies? They are all viable businesses suffering from a surfeit of debt. Like Mr. Prince’s former employer, they failed to stop hustling on the dance floor when they should have.
Investors and creditors are now paying the piper. Their stories provide the overture to the restructuring opera just beginning in corporate America.
Take Clear Channel. The private equity firms Bain Capital and THL Partners paid top dollar to win shareholder approval for their $27.5 billion buyout of the company in mid-2007. The price was later renegotiated, but clearly not by enough. Clear Channel had over $19 billion of borrowings at the end of its most recent quarter. This week it tapped the remaining $1.6 billion of a credit facility, sending its more senior loans to trade at just 45 cents on the dollar.
Radio advertising is linked to the economic cycle. But Clear Channel’s troubles have been intensified in this recession by the onset of competitors like satellite radio and the iPod. Local radio advertising fell a staggering 21 percent in November from the same month a year earlier, according to the Radio Advertising Bureau’s most recent figures. National advertising was down 25 percent.
If Clear Channel had a more forgiving capital structure, it would be better able to tough it out. The company made nearly $500 million in the third quarter, reflecting a nearly 30 percent operating margin. The trouble is that interest payments swallowed $312 million of that. As the downturn worsens, Clear Channel edges closer to breaching its debt covenants.
Muzak and Sirius have too much debt for the cash they are generating and now face the added burden of a liquidity squeeze. In the current environment they cannot raise money to refinance debt.
Sirius, for example, needs to repay $175 million by next week. It could bring in an equity investor willing to pay off the debt in return for control of the company, and John Malone of Liberty Media is said to be in talks. Sirius has the promise to be a very valuable business. And it should be — one day. But for now, its debt is a heavy burden.
Sirius has nearly 20 million subscribers and, despite the slump in the car sales that drive new satellite radio subscriptions, is still growing rapidly. The company should double its subscriber base over 10 years.
On that basis, it’s possible to determine a net present value for Sirius. Investors currently rate satellite TV subscribers at about $1,000 each. Satellite radio subscriptions cost less than half those of television, so let’s assume each customer may be worth $450. At 40 million customers, that’s a total value of about $18 billion by 2019.
Of course, a dollar that might show up tomorrow isn’t worth that much to shareholders today. So let’s discount back the value of those future subscribers by 15 percent annually. By that calculation, Sirius should be worth about $4.5 billion now, compared with a current enterprise value of $3.2 billion.
Muzak also looks pretty resilient, based on its model of providing playlists to retailers, restaurants and other businesses. Sales through the end of September held flat at $142 million, generating $49 million of earnings before interest, tax, depreciation and amortization.
But it had to fork over $35 million to service its $465 million debt pile. Muzak might have been able to muddle through the downturn by cutting costs. The problem is that all of Muzak’s debt comes due this quarter. Even if it could have raised the money, the interest payments would have been crippling.
Like Sirius and Clear Channel, Muzak will still be around in a few years, filling the airwaves with softened versions of Led Zeppelin songs. It will just emerge with a balance sheet scrubbed clean of previous excess. It’s a song that’s likely to be in heavy rotation for some time to come.
ROB COX, LAUREN SILVA LAUGHLIN and ROB CYRAN
Charles O. Prince III, the deposed chief executive at Citigroup, probably didn’t mean it literally when he equated the credit boom to a musical dance. Mr. Prince may not have been a great banker, but he certainly was prescient.
Just this week, the company that pioneered easy listening in elevators, Muzak, filed for bankruptcy protection; Sirius XM Radio began preparing its own Chapter 11 filing; and Clear Channel Communications, the nation’s largest radio station owner, tapped a last-resort credit line.
What common refrain — apart from filling the air with dulcet tones — unites these three companies? They are all viable businesses suffering from a surfeit of debt. Like Mr. Prince’s former employer, they failed to stop hustling on the dance floor when they should have.
Investors and creditors are now paying the piper. Their stories provide the overture to the restructuring opera just beginning in corporate America.
Take Clear Channel. The private equity firms Bain Capital and THL Partners paid top dollar to win shareholder approval for their $27.5 billion buyout of the company in mid-2007. The price was later renegotiated, but clearly not by enough. Clear Channel had over $19 billion of borrowings at the end of its most recent quarter. This week it tapped the remaining $1.6 billion of a credit facility, sending its more senior loans to trade at just 45 cents on the dollar.
Radio advertising is linked to the economic cycle. But Clear Channel’s troubles have been intensified in this recession by the onset of competitors like satellite radio and the iPod. Local radio advertising fell a staggering 21 percent in November from the same month a year earlier, according to the Radio Advertising Bureau’s most recent figures. National advertising was down 25 percent.
If Clear Channel had a more forgiving capital structure, it would be better able to tough it out. The company made nearly $500 million in the third quarter, reflecting a nearly 30 percent operating margin. The trouble is that interest payments swallowed $312 million of that. As the downturn worsens, Clear Channel edges closer to breaching its debt covenants.
Muzak and Sirius have too much debt for the cash they are generating and now face the added burden of a liquidity squeeze. In the current environment they cannot raise money to refinance debt.
Sirius, for example, needs to repay $175 million by next week. It could bring in an equity investor willing to pay off the debt in return for control of the company, and John Malone of Liberty Media is said to be in talks. Sirius has the promise to be a very valuable business. And it should be — one day. But for now, its debt is a heavy burden.
Sirius has nearly 20 million subscribers and, despite the slump in the car sales that drive new satellite radio subscriptions, is still growing rapidly. The company should double its subscriber base over 10 years.
On that basis, it’s possible to determine a net present value for Sirius. Investors currently rate satellite TV subscribers at about $1,000 each. Satellite radio subscriptions cost less than half those of television, so let’s assume each customer may be worth $450. At 40 million customers, that’s a total value of about $18 billion by 2019.
Of course, a dollar that might show up tomorrow isn’t worth that much to shareholders today. So let’s discount back the value of those future subscribers by 15 percent annually. By that calculation, Sirius should be worth about $4.5 billion now, compared with a current enterprise value of $3.2 billion.
Muzak also looks pretty resilient, based on its model of providing playlists to retailers, restaurants and other businesses. Sales through the end of September held flat at $142 million, generating $49 million of earnings before interest, tax, depreciation and amortization.
But it had to fork over $35 million to service its $465 million debt pile. Muzak might have been able to muddle through the downturn by cutting costs. The problem is that all of Muzak’s debt comes due this quarter. Even if it could have raised the money, the interest payments would have been crippling.
Like Sirius and Clear Channel, Muzak will still be around in a few years, filling the airwaves with softened versions of Led Zeppelin songs. It will just emerge with a balance sheet scrubbed clean of previous excess. It’s a song that’s likely to be in heavy rotation for some time to come.
ROB COX, LAUREN SILVA LAUGHLIN and ROB CYRAN
Monday, February 9, 2009
I guess Chris Brown was mad when he heard he wasn't going to win a Grammy...
Chris Brown arrested in battery investigation, victim suspected to be girlfriend Rihanna
BY George Rush, Laura Schreffler and Oren Yaniv
DAILY NEWS STAFF WRITERS
R&B singer Chris Brown was arrested Sunday night by Los Angeles cops for allegedly beating up a woman, and insiders identified the victim as his superstar girlfriend Rihanna.
Sources said Brown beat sexy singer Rihanna, 20, after they fought in his car following a pre-Grammys party.
"She got out of the car to walk home. He got out to stop her," said a source. "Things got physical. He hit her, possibly more than once. She had multiple bruises."
A security guard at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles told the Daily News Sunday night that he saw Rihanna being taken for treatment at the hospital.
"She's been released," said guard Rodderick Brown.
The "Umbrella" singer and Chris Brown, 19, were both scheduled to perform at the Grammys, but pulled out at the last minute.
The Los Angeles Police Department would not identify the woman who was attacked, citing confidentiality.
The sweet-faced "Run It!" singer turned himself in wearing jeans at a Los Angeles police stationhouse about 7:15 p.m. local time.
He was polite, cooperated with cops and was released after paying $50,000 bail, police said.
Police said the fight took place about 12:30 a.m. Sunday in the affluent Hancock Park neighborhood.
"Brown and the woman were inside of a vehicle," said LAPD spokeswoman April Harding. "According to the victim they became involved in an argument. ... The argument escalated into an altercation."
By the time cops responded to the scene following a 911 call, Brown was gone.
Brown and Rihanna were seen Saturday night at a pre-Grammy gala hosted by music mogul Clive Davis in Beverly Hills.
The two posed for pictures and were spotted kissing before they hopped into a waiting silver Lamborghini.
"They were arguing. Apparently, Rihanna accused him of checking out other women at Clive Davis' party," said the industry insider.
"It seems she's taking the steps you'd need to take if you were going to press charges," added the source. "But she could wake up tomorrow morning and decide she still loves him."
The pop world's power couple have been dating for more than a year, and rumors have swirled that they were engaged.
Yet there were rumblings in recent days about troubles, and sources described the Barbados-born beauty as a clingy girlfriend who can't bear to have Brown out of her sights.
oyaniv@nydailynews.com
BY George Rush, Laura Schreffler and Oren Yaniv
DAILY NEWS STAFF WRITERS
R&B singer Chris Brown was arrested Sunday night by Los Angeles cops for allegedly beating up a woman, and insiders identified the victim as his superstar girlfriend Rihanna.
Sources said Brown beat sexy singer Rihanna, 20, after they fought in his car following a pre-Grammys party.
"She got out of the car to walk home. He got out to stop her," said a source. "Things got physical. He hit her, possibly more than once. She had multiple bruises."
A security guard at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles told the Daily News Sunday night that he saw Rihanna being taken for treatment at the hospital.
"She's been released," said guard Rodderick Brown.
The "Umbrella" singer and Chris Brown, 19, were both scheduled to perform at the Grammys, but pulled out at the last minute.
The Los Angeles Police Department would not identify the woman who was attacked, citing confidentiality.
The sweet-faced "Run It!" singer turned himself in wearing jeans at a Los Angeles police stationhouse about 7:15 p.m. local time.
He was polite, cooperated with cops and was released after paying $50,000 bail, police said.
Police said the fight took place about 12:30 a.m. Sunday in the affluent Hancock Park neighborhood.
"Brown and the woman were inside of a vehicle," said LAPD spokeswoman April Harding. "According to the victim they became involved in an argument. ... The argument escalated into an altercation."
By the time cops responded to the scene following a 911 call, Brown was gone.
Brown and Rihanna were seen Saturday night at a pre-Grammy gala hosted by music mogul Clive Davis in Beverly Hills.
The two posed for pictures and were spotted kissing before they hopped into a waiting silver Lamborghini.
"They were arguing. Apparently, Rihanna accused him of checking out other women at Clive Davis' party," said the industry insider.
"It seems she's taking the steps you'd need to take if you were going to press charges," added the source. "But she could wake up tomorrow morning and decide she still loves him."
The pop world's power couple have been dating for more than a year, and rumors have swirled that they were engaged.
Yet there were rumblings in recent days about troubles, and sources described the Barbados-born beauty as a clingy girlfriend who can't bear to have Brown out of her sights.
oyaniv@nydailynews.com
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Calling all my Cornell heads
Not sure why it's back to school in February, but shout out to Bazz and Mbusi (man!)
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