Last Thursday brought an announcement of a new marketing company, Quality Control.

QC* is the result of four individuals (Karim Panni, Kyle Pierce, Ian Davis, and Jonathan Kim) combining ideas, contacts, experience, and resources to form one like-minded company.

QC* provides numerous services aimed towards the artist, record label, new media companies, lifestyle, clothing and streetwear, and social networking companies. Our goal is to establish a reputation for marketing and  promoting the most innovative, progressive, talented and top quality artists, projects, brands and content. Consider Quality Control a source for ‘What’s Next” in Urban music and marketing.

Nestled within the email announcement was a disheartening bit of news:

Greetings and welcome to the brand new newsletter for Quality Control Marketing LLC, and former home of MYX Music Label. Unfortunately, in what is surely a sign of the state of industry and the economy, MYX Music Label has closed its doors and shut down operations. It’s been a great run and we’d like to personally thank and congratulate all of our artists (Keelay and Zaire, D.Black, Jern Eye, Kam Moye, One Be Lo, Crown Royale, Fortilive) for their hard work, perseverance and great music.

Myx Music Label barely lasted a year. Its situation as an label funded by ABS-CBN, a Philippines-based cable network seeking to build an audience in the States, and taking its name from ABS-CBN’s fledgling youth network MYX TV, seemed precarious from the start. How long would a corporation with international ambitions dabble in indie-rap, a game with low profit margins and fickle fans?

At the moment, U.S. indie-rap labels survive on cult of personality. FDrom Stones Throw Records’ Madlib and Rhymesayers Entertainment’s Atmosphere to SomeOthaShip’s Georgia Anne Muldrow and Declaime and Duck Down Records’ Boot Camp Clik, each centers on artists who found individual success before converting their brand name into scrappy companies. Even a relatively unheralded label like Mello Music Group hinges on the talents of Oddisee, a D.C. producer/rapper who enjoys some respect in indie-rap circles.

But Bay Area-based MML didn’t have those assets. Its first release came from Keelay & Zaire, a production duo relatively unknown  outside of rap chat rooms. In fact, people began checking for the group because its first MP3 leak, “The Times” starred then-white-hot rapper Blu. Subsequent releases such as D. Black’s Ali’Yah and Jern Eye (from Bay Area vets Lunar Heights)’s Vision — may have drawn blank stares. Its best known artist was Supastition, the North Carolina MC who drew acclaim for 2005′s Chain Letters. So why did Supastition use his real name, Kam Moye, for last year’s little-heard Splitting Image? The change was undoubtedly heartfelt, but it may have not been a wise business choice.

In today’s climate, indie labels have to be extremely smart. They have to target a specific niche audience, and create short goals that end with record sales and other forms of income. They have to take a hard look at each artist and ask, “Who will buy the artist’s CD, MP3s or vinyl? Who will buy a ticket to the artist’s concerts?”

Rap imprints have it worse. Hip hop fans should stop wondering who killed the genre and look in the fucking mirror. They just aren’t willing to spend money on music. Instead, they demand mixtapes and other sorts of free bullshit before they’ll even consider financially supporting a new artist. Then they maintain an absurdly high degree of difficulty for each release (which has to be a “classic”). I’ve spoken with retail store owners that claim rap fans don’t even buy new vinyl any more (with the notable exception of Stones Throw). Most of the growth in the burgeoning vinyl market comes from the indie-rock scene, which maintains an equally absurd myth of a never-ending creative Renaissance. While indie-rock fans think its bands are geniuses, indie-rap fans think its artists suck.

It’s not a knock on MML’s modest roster to question whether it was capable of surmounting these obstacles and fulfilling ABS-CBN’s goal of penetrating the enigmatic hip hop market. In an interview last year, label manager and rapper Karim “Nightclubber Lang” Panni (from the Boom Bap Project) told me he wasn’t interested in specifically targeting Asian-American youth. Why not? “I just look for the people who are making really good music that I would like,” he told me.

Perhaps Panni thought he had more time to make Myx Music start-up work. I was looking forward to albums by Crown Royale, a pairing between promising Detroit rapper Buff1 and veteran L.A. turntablist Rhettmatic; and Michigan cult artist One Be Lo. I wonder what will happen with those projects?

After I received the Quality Control press release, I sent an email to Panni asking what happened with MML. He hasn’t responded yet. If he does, I’ll let you know what he says.

I wrote this tribute to Guru for my weekly Rhapsody column, Rap is Not Pop. It was posted posted earlier today on the Rhapsody Music Stuff Place blog and its new Rhapsody Hip-Hop Blog.

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Rap Is Not Pop: R.I.P. Keith “Guru” Elam

Keith “Guru” Elam passed away last night, April 19, at the age of 43 from cancer-related illnesses. Many of his fans, including myself, hoped he would recover after surviving a coma scare in February. Alas, it was not to be.

Guru — an acronym for Gifted Unlimited Rhymes Universal — was one of the best MCs to emerge from the late 80s hip-hop renaissance, a period when the fledgling genre found its form and voice. First known as Keithy E from Boston, he debuted with Gang Starr’s 1987 12-inch single, “The Lesson.” Though merely a tentative first step, it revealed what would become Guru’s lifelong goal: bringing black intellectualism and philosophy back to the streets. Two years later, after Keithy E became Guru, broke with founding Gang Starr producer DJ Mike “1 2 B Down” Dee and brought in Chris “DJ Premier” Martin, his mission to spread “knowledge of self” to B-boys everywhere yielded his first classic: “Words I Manifest.”

With his deep, monotone style — a trait he celebrated on “Mass Appeal” and “Mostly Tha Voice” — Guru was a complex and enigmatic figure. Yes, he was all about the knowledge, and often spoke out about gun violence, most memorably on “Soliloquy Of Chaos.” Other times, he seemed to celebrate the heated and often brawling clashes between rival crews that haunts hip-hop culture. He taunted famous rappers as “Suckas Who Need Bodyguards,” and vowed to punish his enemies on “Make Em Pay.”

But Guru was also cosmopolitan and worldly. When he collaborated with pioneering French rapper MC Solaar on “Le Bien, Le Mal” for his 1993 acid jazz gem Jazzmatazz Vol. 1, he exposed American rap fans to Europe’s thriving hip-hop scene for the first time. His varied personae — the Islam-influenced lyricist of “Who’s Gonna Take the Weight,” the surly knucklehead of “The Militia,” and the sophisticate of “Loungin’” — often confounded fans. Some preferred the hardcore rhymes of Gang Starr’s 1994 album Hard to Earn, while others preferred the wise poet of 1990′s Step in the Arena.

Then there was DJ Premier, Guru’s partner and an iconic artist in his own right. Some claim that Premier’s beats outshone Guru. Indeed, compared to Premier’s clean, deft compositions, Guru’s voice sounds halting, sometimes lingering a step or two behind the rhythm. But it’s the contrast between the two “Starrs” that often goes unappreciated. As a man of many styles and moods, Guru’s life and art doesn’t offer the easy pleasures of a Premier beat.

After splitting with Premier following 2004′s 2003′s The Ownerz, a disappointing album that nevertheless offered one last classic moment in “Skills,” Guru founded 7 Grand Records with producer and longtime friend Solar. Their projects together, from 2005′s Version 7.0: The Street Scriptures to 2007′s Jazzmatazz Vol. 4: The Hip-Hop Messenger “Back To The Future,” seem slight when placed against Guru’s Gang Starr peaks.

Hip-hop fans can be one some of the most cruel and demanding of any genre, expecting nothing less than “classic” from its heroes and quickly dismissing them as old and washed up when they “fall off.” They may have wanted Guru to quietly retreat to the concert circuit, performing the Gang Starr chestnuts for old-school diehards. But the same intellectual restlessness that drove Guru’s many incarnations continued to motivate him until his death. His final projects, including 2008′s Jazzmatazz: Back To The Future Mixtape, was promising enough to suggest that he may have begun figuring out what his post-Premier career would be.

Sadly, Guru’s final days are mired in controversy. Hours after Guru passed away, Solar sent out a bizarre “letter” allegedly written by Guru on his deathbed. It turned over the rapper’s estate and affairs to Solar and excommunicated Premier from being “connected in any way to my situation.”

It appears that Guru’s tragic, untimely death will enter the realm of conspiracy, offering plenty of fodder for rumors and perhaps investigative reports, but little in the way of emotional closure. It’s an inappropriate end for an artist whose contradictions, however maddening, surprised and amazed us for over two decades. He deserves better.

In the midst of my Hamlet-like soliloquy I neglected to note that Jun “Nujabes” Seba died last month from injuries related to a car accident.

The Japanese producer made over a decade’s worth of downtempo and instrumental hip-hop. My familiarity with Nujabes is limited to his work in the early 00s, when he created several remixes for Five Deez, and collaborated with Japanese emigre Shing02 on a series of 12-inch singles named “Luv(sic).” But he’s best known in the States for creating the opening theme to the Adult Swim cult classic Samurai Champloo.

Here’s what Shing02 said on his website. His post has drawn over 2000 comments, proof that Nujabes enjoyed an extensive following among the world’s beat-heads.

We deeply regret the loss of a unique talent and a close friend. Through his soulful music, Nujabes has touched so many people around the world, even beyond his dreams. He was a mysterious character to most as he avoided the public limelight, rarely conducted interviews, so only a few got to know the man behind the signature production. Yet it continued to amaze me how young listeners of all backgrounds learned of his enigmatic name, and expressed support for his music.

I briefly traded emails with Nujabes in late 2002 for an URB Next 100 mention. (Or was it one of his representatives? I can’t remember.) We weren’t able to work it out in time for my deadline. So here’s what I wrote:

Who is Nujabes? To Westerners, he’s something of a mystery, a name that occasionally appears as a producer for Apani B. Fly Emcee (“Strive”), Substantial (“Home Sweet Home”), and Shingo2 (“Luv (sic)”). Japanese heads know he’s the man behind Hyde Out Productions, a maker of loop-based beats with a whimsical, almost yearning quality to them. Thanks to his consistently high standards, Nujabes is a secret weapon for wide-awake DJs.

Short and sweet.

It seems like Slum Village, one of the most influential rap groups of the past decade, is marked by tragedy. Titus “Baatin” Glover passed away on Saturday, August 1 from mysterious causes. He was 35 years old. (A medical autopsy is pending.) His death comes three years after the demise of co-founder James “J Dilla” Yancey.

With his trademark turban, piercingly ruddy voice and sinewy demeanor, Baatin exemplified Slum Village’s contradictions more than any other member. On their classic Fantastic Vol. 2, he espoused spirituality and a holistic lifestyle, yet celebrated urban hedonism on record, predating subsequent Muslim thug rappers like Freeway and the Jacka.

After J Dilla left amicably for a solo career, T3 and Baatin added Elzhi to the group and landed a hit single, “Tainted,” from Trinity (Past, Present and Future). Shortly after that, Baatin went AWOL as he suffered from crack addiction and mental illness. (He would be diagnosed with schizophrenia.) Slum Village, now just Elzhi  & T3, distanced themselves from Baatin — “Reunion,” the final track on SV’s 2004 album Detroit Deli (A Taste of Detroit), was considered a “wake up call” to him.

In recent years, Baatin cleaned himself up, and he rejoined T3 and Elzhi for their Rock the Bells dates this year. The trio was set to issue a new album, Villa Manifesto, in September on Barak Records. Sadly, it will now commemorate two fallen soldiers in the SV family instead of just one.

Rest in peace.

The apparent collapse of Vibe Media Group, and the end of Vibe magazine, is something less than a surprise. Rumors have circulated for months that Vibe may fold at any moment. The same rumors shadow every major newspaper and magazine, from Paste and Spin to the Los Angeles Times and the New York Times, like crows waiting to pick at their carcasses. At one point, Vibe was the best-selling urban music magazine in the country and second only to Rolling Stone in circulation; now it’s the biggest casualty of a rapidly deteriorating media climate and, to an extent, a hobbled and broken music industry.

The announcement on June 30 that Vibe is suspending publication was met with mixed reaction, from sadness (mostly on the part of journalists and industry folk) to snickers (often from musicians and music fans). (Vibe Media has changed hands many times since Quincy Jones co-founded the magazine  with Time Inc. executive Robert L. Miller in 1992. It is currently owned by the Wicks Group.)

“Vibe Mag goes under.–thank you for many years of little to no coverage and bad reviews. You will be missed,” read a Twitter post from Evidence.

“What will we do when there’s no one to hate our music in print?” wrote Mr. Len.

“Wow, Vibe is gone…can they PLUUEAZE take BET with em???” wrote James Poyser.

It’s an all-too-familiar response to a decaying urban entertainment megalopolis that everyone loves to hate but no one seems (financially or creatively) capable of changing.

Some say that back in the 1990s, Sean “Puffy” Combs ruined black music with his outrageously expensive marketing campaigns and maximalist, platinum-or-nothing approach. So should we also blame Vibe, who presciently crowned Puffy as the future of black music in a 1993 profile? “As hip hop makes its mad dash toward the finishing line of high capitalism, it will need a hero,” wrote Scott Poulson-Bryant in that story, which was published just as Puffy launched Bad Boy Entertainment. Perhaps he inferred that Vibe, too, would become a heroic conqueror.

I have written several pieces for Vibe as a freelancer since 2001. Most of my contributions consisted of small front and back-of-the-book stuff such as reviews and the occasional profile. Many other writers had a deeper relationship with Vibe than me, and I expect they’ll weigh in with commentary over the next several days and weeks.

My first encounter with Vibe was seeing it on the newsstand in the fall of 1992. It was the preview issue with Treach on the cover. A year later, when it officially debuted in September 1993 with a cover story on Snoop Doggy Dogg, I became a major fan. With its excellent photography, insightful articles and well-written reviews, Vibe truly aspired to become “the black Rolling Stone.” It sought to chronicle black culture in all its forms, from house music (a heartbreaking piece on Larry Levan) to then-rising black Hollywood (cover stories on Wesley Snipes and Rosie Perez).

But just as the original Rolling Stone evolved from a sharp catalog of 60s radicalism into a cheery and shallow pop bible, Vibe subtly changed. First, an annoying “girlfriend-sistagirl” informality crept into many of the stories and especially the front-and-back charticles, ostensibly to make the magazine less intimidating and adult-oriented to teenagers (who, let’s face it, are hip hop and R&B’s target audience). Next, it jettisoned the stories on non-musicians, sticking to familiar R&B stars such as Mary J. Blige and Janet Jackson.

Vibe’s coverage of the tragic East Coast-West Coast beef between Combs’ Bad Boy Records and Suge Knight’s Death Row Records irrevocably changed it. Its stories on the rift between those two labels almost destroyed its credibility – many in the industry felt Vibe wrongly gave the two camps a bullhorn to amplify their sometimes-ridiculous claims, with 2Pac and Biggie as the eventual casualties. But I think those charges were just a case of “shoot the messenger.” The real problem developed when it brainlessly embraced the subsequent big Willie, bling-bling era of the late 90s while virtually ignoring everything else. This is what Evidence complains about in “little to nor coverage.”

Vibe didn’t just give short shrift to the underground rap scene that swelled in the late 90s and early aughts. It failed to cover the indie soul movement – a network of coffee shop poets and acoustic soul troubadours whose support could have possibly saved the magazine. But many of these artists, save for breakout stars like India.Arie and occasional major label signings like Emily King, apparently weren’t mainstream enough to warrant coverage. Then there’s electronic music, often pioneered by black artists, from the second wave of Detroit techno led by Carl Craig and Jeff Mills in the 90s to the beat movement currently headed by Flying Lotus; the spoken-word phenomenon personified by Saul Williams; and the black rock explosion led by TV on the Radio. And what about white and multi-racial artists like Dilated Peoples and the Rhymesayers camp that make urban music? Vibe either slept on most of it or consigned it to back-of-the-book reviews.

Vibe has never tried to represent all urban music styles; unlike Rolling Stone, which profiles ascendant underground rock forms as well as shallow pop detritus, Vibe doggedly stuck to street rap and ghetto soul. And when those underground artists created huge international followings, Vibe didn’t care. Instead, it pumped out more “Vibe Confidential” gossip about Rihanna, P. Diddy and their hair styles.

To its credit, however, Vibe attracted top journalistic talent, and occasionally produced great long-form stories. Among my favorites were Elizabeth Mendez Berry’s revealing piece on domestic violence in hip hop – unfortunately the late Big Pun’s reputation was its collateral damage — and Jeff Chang’s influential cover stories on Barack Obama.

I also have to give a shout out to Sean Fennessey, who allowed me to review the likes of Sage Francis, Lyrics Born and Yesterday’s New Quintet (although the latter review was canceled because of space). We had our conflicts, but he’s an incredible editor, and he tried to restore some artistic credibility to the “V Revolutions” reviews section by widening its range beyond the latest black pop debacles. Unfortunately, the “V Revolutions” section was killed last year and put online.

Finally, that leads me to Vibe’s disastrous Internet philosophy. I’m not going to address its much-criticized “Best Rapper Alive” contest, which included asinine pop rappers like Nelly and Plies at the expense of accomplished lyricists like Lupe Fiasco. But Vibe.com only posted 4 or 5 items a day, while megasites such as Concreteloop.com and Nahright.com drew swarms of traffic with 20-50 daily posts. Even similar magazine sites such as Spin.com and Rollingstone.com posted more often. If Vibe.com couldn’t keep up on the Internet, how did Vibe Media Group expect to survive?

Cataloging Vibe’s editorial and creative failures doesn’t explain why it failed. There are hard business reasons, too. But they help explain why its demise after 16 years in print generates so little sympathy.

“As i write this i see my entire tweet network celebrating like the witch is dead,” writes Questlove on Okayplayer.com. “Yes i WOULD have loved a more balanced magazine that coulda schooled me to Jean Grae and Little Brother or maybe even Bilal and dead prez instead of the other way around. Vibe also gave black writers a job.”

“The void that the closing of Vibe leaves is immense. I don’t believe any other media is equipped or even remotely interested in taking up the space that Vibe has,” Chang noted on his Cantstopwontstop.com site. “The only upside of this depression is that many of us no longer have a side hustle to distract us from the incredible art we gotta make.”

But we need more than just a patchwork of niche sites and entrepreneurial journalists/bloggers. We need a big tent, a home where everyone can meet, like Vibe once promised it would be. We shouldn’t have to wait for the New York Times to throw us the occasional bone.

It should be black-identified (and, god forbid, maybe even black-owned), but open to all races and willing to discuss all topics. Black isn’t just a color, but a state of mind; URB magazine owner/creative director Raymond Roker has proved that for years. It should recognize that urban culture is more than more than just thugs and street pharmacists, more than just gossip folks, more than just giddy, pop-obsessed teenagers (although it includes those things, too). We need a community that encompasses every facet, from underground to mainstream, and recognizes that black people listen to rock and roll and electronic music, too.

Someone will try to devise an equivalent to Vibe, whether it’s in print or new media. We need to demand that it reflects all of us.

Rest in peace.

(July 1 update: Minor typographical and grammatical corrections have been made to this story.)

Michael Jackson, August 29, 1958 – June 25, 2009.

Rest in peace.

Last night, 2Mex sent out a MySpace message announcing the end of Visionaries. This may not come as a surprise to those who haven’t followed the group in a while (like myself); its last album, We Are The Ones (We Have Been Waiting For), dropped in 2006. Still, it’s unwelcome news.

The full text of 2Mex’s MySpace message is below.

my take on the breaking up of the VISIONARIES CREW.
Body: so i just talked to LMNO and he told me that he was on MIKE nardone show lastnight and that he finally said what needed to be said , that the VISIONARIES at this point are no longer an active group…im glad the truth came out…

i would like to take this opportunity to thank ALL THE FANS THAT HAVE SUPPORTED US SO MUCH SINCE 1997 TIL TODAY!
your loyalty and love have made my life so full of joy that i cant thank you enough..
your love has allowed us to travel all OVER THE WORLD for the past 12 years and see and absorb the beauty that this blessed life has to offer…
for me i must say that the group actually saved my life as the group gave me the love ,confidence,friendship,energy to understand that dispite the negative forces of a sometimes uncaring world ,that its the relashionships and friendships and even the blind love of strangers ,those encounters those embraces that exchange of energy and ideas and kindness are what really make life worth living..weather you came to rock the bells or soldout shows in hollywood or were really there in the trenches at every lil hole in the wall.every lil college show.i thank you…
key
dannu
james
tez
rhett
pap doug kato
trevor
jeff
nancy
and everyone that EVERworked at upabove records
and ever fan and friend that i met around world thank u..
4 great albums, hundreds of songs and shows.and so many wonderful moments…
i thought it was quite ironic that our last show was at an indiginous
hip hop conference with an native dance ceremony before us and a very small crowd of loyal fans there sharing the moment…
im sure the time will come in the future that well play again i hope ,but for for now well continue with our daily creative ways…
i wish things were different i wish we were on our 5th 6th 7th album and we were all as tight as we were ,i would rather us be friends and brothers in the end as we are and will allways be linked to magical moments in los angeles hiphop history..thank u…alex

Yesterday, Brooklyn’s Hangar 18 announced that it is breaking up.

Hangar 18 was formed by rappers Alaska and Windnbreeze and producer paWL.  The trio’s prior association with New York freestyle stalwart Atomz Family made it a perfect fit for Definitive Jux. However, their two albums, 2004′s The Multiplatinum Debut Album and 2007′s Sweep the Leg, hewed closer to party rap, an indie hip hop microtrend (Mac Lethal, Junk Science) that hasn’t really taken off. Artistically, Hangar 18′s best single may have been “Beatslope,” an early single that streamlined and updated Atomz Family’s lyrical machinations.

Here’s the statement that Hangar 18′s Alaska sent out via MySpace:

Hey everyone,

you may or may not know this by now, but hangar 18 is now defunct. we decided a few months back to put a halt to the hangar. We are all on good terms, we all still see each other all the time. It wasnt on bad terms. we just sort of ran out of creative juice and there was nowhere else to go with hangar. sure we could have kept on and made music that was uninspired and that we werent fully into but we felt that it wasnt fair to you guys or to us.

so here is the update. wind and his fiance have started their own business and they are doing very well.

Paul is still directing and writing commercials, spending time with his wife and daughter.

I have started a new group with my boy kojo call Alaska and Kojo are The Crack Epidemic. We have just finished our first ep called Woke Up This Morning and we are working on a full length album.

we have a new myspace page, you can find us at http://www.
myspace. com/alaskaandkojoare i just started making the page so there is only one song up, and a few old pictures. come say hi to us and sign on. i will get some new music up over the next day or two. I will also have some information on new projects and upcoming release info.

Thanks for all the support you guys gave us over the past few years. it was an absolute pleasure to play music for you guys. Hopefully you will enjoy all the new material coming forward.

Thanks for letting us be a part of your lives,

Alaska and Hangar 18

Charles Wesley Cooper III of Telefon Tel Aviv, April 12, 1977 – January 22, 2009.

The birds remind me of what remains.