Lots of history here, tributes inside tributes. There's the sample of Curtis Mayfield's "The Makings of You" (the last time Kanye and Curtis hooked up, it was for "Touch the Sky", which slowed down "Move on Up".) There's Bronx-born producer Pete Rock, who helped birth the soul-sample-heavy style Kanye took global this century. (On the 2004 Slum Village track "Selfish", Kanye purported to be "the new version of Pete Rock.") There's Jay-Z, who recently scoffed, "niggas want my old shit, buy my old album" on "On to the Next One". ("The Joy" could comfortably reside on the Kanye-aided, Pete Rock-indebted The Blueprint-- which happens to be one of Jay-Z's old albums.) Naturally, Kanye isn't immune to the contradictions either-- "no electro, no metro, a little retro, ah perfecto" sounds a little revisionist from the guy who sampled Daft Punk, made "Flashing Lights" a hit, and sports tailored suits in bed.

But once you hear what Rock does with Mayfield, such hypocritical back-peddling slides under easy just because the lineage is so pure. Kanye and Jay may have moved on musically, but there's no one else that can do soul-sampling hip-hop like Jay and Kanye. "The Joy" is a unique throwback. It flattens time, flows endless.

MP3:> Kanye West: "The Joy" [ft. Jay-Z, Pete Rock, Charlie Wilson, and Kid Cudi]

[possibly from the forthcoming Kanye/Jay-Z collaborative LP Watch the Throne]

Over the past few years, the number of home-recorded solo projects has ballooned to unprecedented numbers, with styles varying from outrageously blown-out punk to miniature symphonies. Even with the skill level of certain artists increasing, even with the technology expanding to make their talents flourish to a greater degree, every now and again, a song comes along and makes us scratch our heads incredulously and say, "There's no way one person is doing all of that." "Look on the Bright Side", the debut single from Levek, happens to be one of those songs.

Levek, the bandonym of Orlando's David Levesque, is essentially the work of one person (he played everything but violin and part of a bassline, and there's a female voice during one section). Which makes "Look on the Bright Side" all the more impressive, given the seamlessness of all of its components. A slinky rhythm section straight out of the playbook of soul band Frankie Beverly and Maze makes way for gorgeous harmonies interacting with skyward synthesizers and unironically funky guitars, right before the trumpet-led breakdown. With the remarkable amount of musicianship packed into just three minutes, what's even more startling is how breezy it all feels; it's easy to close your eyes and imagine a sextet of seasoned players in Hawaiian shirts just floating through their parts on a stage cluttered with instruments. And then, when you open your eyes-- whether after the first or 50th listen-- the fact remains that this is almost completely the work of one person, and that fact never ceases to be very surprising.

MP3: Levek: "Look on the Bright Side"

[from the "Look on the Bright Side" 7"; out 11/16/10 via Father/Daughter]

A Tropicália-spiked cut-and-paste Balearic jam you practically have to shake the sand out of before taking it into the house? Yes, there's plenty about Vancouver producer Blood Diamonds' "Heart" that looks awfully trendy on paper. But thanks to some inspired detailing and a concerted effort to keep things rhythmic and colorful, Blood Diamonds are able to synthesize a genuinely propulsive, get-loose atmosphere almost effortlessly. Opening with synthetic marimbas that sound as if they've been nicked from Hans Zimmer's True Romance score, "Heart" immediately locks into its addictive groove, stirring in hand drums and shakers that work together in such a punchy way, it's hard to get a handle just how much is going on.

Only when Blood Diamonds ease off the insistent rhythmic clatter for a few "Lean Wit It, Rock Wit It"-styled breathers are we able to work in the vibrating synths and the chant-like vocal samples once that manic beats drops back in. Those pitch-shifted vocals are of key importance here, balancing the song's sanguine disposition with a subtle, melancholic touch. But in essence, this is a celebratory affair-- even if it weren't for those marimbas, you'd probably be able to call upon the image of that Worley family beach frolic at the end of True Romance on your own. It's no surprise Blood Diamonds can relate, having also just pulled off an impressive heist.

MP3: Blood Diamonds: "Heart"

[possibly from a forthcoming release on The Pop Manifesto]

Halloween just passed and we're posting a song called "Cemeteries", which is taken from an album that's about dark moods and unsettling feelings. And yeah, "Cemeteries" is slow and atmospheric with strange sound effects that sort of bump around just beneath the chord changes, bringing to mind that feeling where you need to squint and see where you are walking because you don't know what's down there by your feet. But this highlight from Down There, the recently released solo album from Animal Collective's Avey Tare, is more than just an eerie soundscape. Though the production is beautiful and adds a lot to the overall effect, it's also easy to imagine this song being played alone at the piano, or living on as a cover. And the way Dave Portner sings it, with the rising melody and the wordless vocals echoing off in the distance, the feel I get from it has more to do with weariness and a kind of nameless yearning. "Cemeteries" is a lament, and if there's death here, it's met with sadness instead of fear.

[from Down There; out now on Paw Tracks]

The "Heartbreaker" mp3 was released with a scanned, handwritten thank you letter from Girls' Christopher Owens. "All of us have something to say and give," he wrote somewhat legibly, "and this is what happens when we show a little interest and support in others." This would presumably refer to the first new recording (they've been playing it live for nearly a year) we've heard from the San Francisco guitar pop classicists since last year's Album, a debut that garnered both support and interest from enough listeners to earn the band a studio budget larger than any they've had before. "Heartbreaker" sounds like an equally warm embrace in return. Owens' amber chord progression is cozy and familiar, JR White's bass in the highest of spirits. But as is often the case with Owens' songs, there's an unmistakable, implacable melancholy there weighing down otherwise weightless sonics. It's not so much his tale of love long gone, but an image of himself, all alone, sandwiched in between: "There's a voice in the back of my head that says you're always going to be alone/ Go turn the TV on and turn off the telephone." He might consider reading that letter one more time.

MP3: Girls: "Heartbreaker"

[from Broken Dreams Club; due 11/22/10 on True Panther]

Bok Bok and L-Vis 1990, the London producers who run the Night Slugs label and a popular Rinse FM podcast of the same name, have definitely been on a roll this year. Releasing their own tracks and work by other artists like Kingdom, they're carving out a niche as future-house purveyors with an ear for melody. Twenty-four-year-old Philip Gamble, who records as Girl Unit, could very well turn out to be their breakout star. Still working off the momentum from his stuttering, grimy "I.R.L." single from March, his newest joint "Wut" wasn't even supposed to be out yet but the label had to push up the release in part because DJs were jacking clips from online mixes. Listen to it and you'll know why. A post-dubstep mishmash of twitchy R&B, house propulsion, and knocking bass, "Wut" just jumps out of speakers and announces itself a hit. The track's got crazy movement, swooshing back and forth over pulsing 808 thumps, but it's the clipped vocal that ties it all together, constantly tripping over itself then hardening into a melody at chorus points. In the end it has an almost pop-song draw, a tech-y dancefloor heater that you can't seem to get out of your head.

[from "Wut" 7"; out now on Night Slugs]

There's a very specific kind of romantic yearning that seemed to be in ready supply in the new wave music of the 1980s. Thinking of it now, it might manifest itself in John Hughes nostalgia, the shape of a haircut, the feelings associated with a certain synth texture. It resonates in a similar way whether you were there or got it second-hand. For a lot of people, the sound of Robert Smith's voice can bring all those feelings and more into place with a single syllable. And to hear his voice on this version of "Not in Love" is to hear the sound of that very specific kind of romantic yearning collapsing into a singularity from several directions at once.

There's the song, originally done by the 1980s Canadian new wave band Platinum Blonde. I had never heard it before Crystal Castles covered it, but CC certainly have a good ear for a winning tune, one that suits their music and also extends their style of abrasive pop into the past. On their awesome self-titled album this year, Crystal Castles took the song and injected it with digital noise and obscuring distortion to bring the world of the song into our overloaded cheap computer speaker age. Their version was ace, but maybe it went just a little too far in one direction. Because hearing Smith on it here, he rescues the song and elevates it, striking a brilliant balance between old and new, between the pull of nostalgia and the reality that our entire lives are actually happening right here this very second.

[from the "Not in Love" single; due 12/06/10 on Fiction]

Ginz works well with others. He's made some deeply expansive shit with fellow headknocker Baobinga as the Body Snatchers, as well as taken listeners to Saturn with his and Kool Money Kwame's "Wet Wipe Riddim"-- and lest you forget, he teamed up with the Prince of Purple himself, Joker, to create the still-untouchable, street-clearing "Purple City". He's had his finger in enough pies to establish the fact that he is indeed a singular talent, so it's not a particularly huge surprise that the Bristol-by-way-of-D.C. producer still knocks 'em out of the park when he's left to his own devices. It is, however, a pleasant treat to hear dude working it out the way he does on this highlight from Soul Jazz's recently released Future Bass compilation. "Boss" has everything you've come to expect from that colorful, squelchy Bristol sound: big, delayed beats with lots of space, curled turns that sound like anti-gravity yo-yos, and line after line (after line) of brain-engraved melodies that cut off just as the next one barges right through. So, yeah, more of the same, which is not a complaint.

[from the Future Bass compilation; out now on Soul Jazz]

The definitive moment on Rihanna's underrated Rated R ended up being the dancehall-flavored pop hit "Rude Boy", a song that had more in common with Rihanna's big-room-at-the-club bangers than the rest of Rated R's less radio-ready deep cuts. "Rude Boy" did more to exorcise the ghost of Chris Brown from Rihanna's career than any of Rated R's dark ballads.

On "What's My Name", from upcoming album Loud, Rihanna doesn't have to tell us how desirable she is-- it is a given. What she really wants is a man up to the challenge of impressing her, and she's not afraid if that makes you feel emasculated (from "Rude Boy"'s "Can you get it up?/ Is you big enough?" to "What's My Name""s "Knows how to make me want it... I really wanna see if you can go downtown with a girl like me"). There is never any doubt in her delivery that Rihanna really might as well be the only girl in the world.

Drake's verse is serviceable but coasts on the dregs of his signature summer hits. He's mostly doing drawn-out Auto-Tuned ends of phrases and wordplay that both his mentor Lil Wayne and Young Money labelmate/fictional spouse Nicki Minaj do much better, including a "square root of 69" joke that would get groaned at in any middle school math class.

"Rude Boy" marked a transition, from the hyper-catchy but ultimately faceless 1980s-sampling pop tunes Rihanna made her name on, to music befitting a genuine pop star with a real personality of her own. She hardly invented sexually aggressive female R&B (see: Adina Howard, TLC, Vanity 6, et al.) but she has led the modern radio revival. When Rihanna channels her Caribbean influences, she transforms into the dancehall queen it turns out she was all along.

[from Loud; out 11/16/10 via Island/Def Jam]

Todd Rundgren's "Hello It's Me" resides in the upper echelon of "breaking up is hard to do" songs, as does Neil Young's elegiac "Birds". But where Shakey sings about setting yourself free from the one you love, Rundgren leaves the door open for the future encounters: "I'll come around to see you once in a while/ Or if I ever need a reason to smile/ And spend the night if you think I should." For the protagonist in "If You Want It", the Rundgren-sampling gem from San Diego indie pop duo TV Girl, that door's always open-- and that's kind of the problem. "Morning comes/ I know how the next part goes/ One last dance/ Then you delete me off your phone," he sings, lamenting to the nameless lover, "you only want it when you're drunk." Maybe he likes being used, though, as the chorus ("If you want it/ You got it") suggests, over champagne-sparkling drums and far-away piano drops that bring to mind Jens Lekman's own follies in finding a mate. Rundgren's opening line is repeated throughout, with new meaning here: Once the liquor's worn off, remember that I'm still here for you-- or, please, don't forget me.

MP3: TV Girl: "If You Want It"

[from TV Girl's self-titled EP; available now via the band's Bandcamp]