This guy’s falsetto could calm a storm. It reminds me of Maxwell’s singing on This Woman’s Work, which is similarly immaculate. I’m not sure what makes me such a sucker for these open-hearted, true-love type jams, but I’m totally bought in, and mostly unashamed.

As a sidenote, if you peruse the comments on these two videos, it’s neat to see how they flay the persona of the singer between his voice and body. A lot of comments chat about the flawlessness of his voice, as if it’s totally distinct from the physical fact of his humanity. These also tend to identify James (and Maxwell before him) as an embodiment of what’s good about 90′s R+B, or as the saviour of a stale and flagging industry.

The other focus on his muscles, and how they look when the rain pours over them (the best comment in this vein is “I’m pregnant over dis song.”) The voice becomes secondary to the physical image seen in the video.

This cleft runs through a lot of the videos in this genre: a gap between the virtuosity of the voice, and the undeniable sex appeal of the image.

In a weird way, it also mirrors how different generations receive, process, and conceptualize music. The “voice” focussed commenters tend to be older and more nostalgic for a time when videos weren’t the main means to encounter a song. They discuss the good old days when “real” artists weren’t as polished, engineered and defined by the visual (which is probably a rosy fiction, but that’s besides the point.) Nowadays, though, the brunt of artists seem to find success on the strength of their image, with lots of younger fans hearing songs mainly in tandem with the music video. These commenters tend to discuss the “look” of the artist, and how he or she looks in comparison with others in the industry (like one commenter calling Luke James, hilariously, “black Beiber.”)

I might be overreaching on this idea, but regardless, I’m glad guys like James are stimulating conversation. It’d be dope to hear his stuff on urban radio, if only for contrast to the sad-sack Drake-isms I’m hearing so often.

I received a few smart comments on my earlier post about brands and social media, and both mentioned the ubiquitous Old Spice campaign from this year. I figure that I should clarify a few of my earlier thoughts, and maybe outline why I think the Old Spice campaign is one of the exceptions to the rule when it comes to social media.

First off, the Old Spice campaign was obviously incredibly popular, and garnered something like a billion impressions across all platforms. It was cheeky, unexpected and tonally odd. I especially like that they used Isaiah Mustafa to interact personally with fans over youtube and twitter in character. If you’ve got a personality like him, it makes sense to allow consumers further access to his quirks.

However, the way they used social media is pretty atypical. It wasn’t some recent hire hunched over a wobbly desk in the basement of the corporate office; it was creatives from Wieden and Kennedy sitting in a studio. The content was coming from people who understood the thrust of the creative strategy, and proceeded from that, not from a vague idea that they should be “reaching out.”

The lesson, I guess, is that some ideas (like the Old Spice one) work very well on social media, but day-to-day chatter often doesn’t. And that’s what I was saying before. Tweeting with some faceless representative of General Mills, for example, basically beckons people closer to the grave, or at least to a deep, satisfying slumber. There’s no overarching reason why they’re using that medium.

My prediction is that some agencies will eventually start offering twitter feed management (if they don’t do this already.) It would save us a lot of grief, and help preserve the fragile dignity of the poor soul who has to tweet stuff like “Hey @dattmonne, thanks for the follow” because some so-called social media expert advised them to thank every one of their new followers.  A creative spark behind the twitter feed seems much more effective.

An example that shows the potential is right here: http://fairtweets.com/ Ben and Jerry’s rigged up a weird little app that allows you to donate your spare twitter characters to a message about fair trade. Simple, brilliant, creative. So much better.

Yes. My favorite hip-hop song of the year was made more than a decade ago. And by a group I had never heard of before this September. It’s called Clear Blue Skies, by a little know duo called Juggaknots.

I’m also assuming that it’s journalistic poor form to pick tracks from 1996 for my 2011 best-of, but what the hell, right? I’m mostly writing for myself here, so it doesn’t really matter.

It’s hard to pin down why exactly this song is so affecting, and effective, when it lacks the high-wire lyrical prowess of Kendrick Lamar, or the elevated yet relatable straight talking of Drake, but it rises above both of those guys for me. It might have something to do with the beat, which ebbs and flows in warm crackles, snaps with muted snares, and rises angelically on the chorus. It also has to do with the clear-eyed, emotionally devastating narrative that develops as the two MC’s in Juggaknots bounce back and forth.

The story is ostensibly about a white father finding out that his son has a black girlfriend, confronting him about it, and then justifying it with a string of base prejudices. The son, it seems, never knew that his dad was a racist, and the surprise in his voice as he prods for his dad’s reasons is heartbreaking. Each point is answered with a deeper, baser generalization on the part of the father.  They stutter and interrupt each other. They argue.  Their voices rise and fill with emotion. I haven’t heard anything like it, really. And despite the explicit subject matter, it’s also about a son growing up, realizing that the man he trusted is trustworthy no more, and that his future is now severed from that of his father’s.

To a certain degree, we all experience this kind of realization, that our parents are indelibly human and flawed, not the blameless demi-gods we thought. And it’s okay. We need to step out of their shadows. Hopefully it isn’t as tragic as the story in this song, but it has to happen nonetheless. And damn, what a song this is.

I have no idea how this happened, but Z-Ro flew under my radar forever. I guess I had heard only a couple of his tracks, and had him pigeonholed as another cliche Southern rapper. But I finally took some time last week to immerse myself in a bunch of his albums, and I’m an instant Z-Ro evangelist. This dude is funky, generous and endlessly interesting as a character. His stuff pre-2004 isn’t so hot, but starting with The Life of Joseph W. McVey he’s basically the best.

I’ll probably write more about this later, but it’s relatively obvious that Drake learned a lot of his tricks from Z-Ro (and can’t really do it as well, or as naturally, at least.) Z-Ro shifts effortlessly between a deeply warm, grumbly rapping flow and an equally natural singing voice. He’s not a virtuoso by any means, but there’s an honest comfort in the texture of his voice. It’s human and welcoming, despite the alternately sad and angry content of his lyrics. Unfortunately for Drake, he doesn’t have the comportment or persona to sustain the level of emotion Z-Ro can, so he comes off kinda hollow or calculating when he reaches (but props for trying, I still think Take Care is dope.)

Almost everything about this Super Junior video is outrageous and perfect. The noirish tone, the slow fades, the weird chubby guy with a bowl cut. This is what happens when K-Pop tries to do a Jaheim-style lady pleasing slow jam. And you know what, I’m definitely no purist, so this works surprisingly well. It’s definitely a bit awkward, but the hook is pleasantly rhythmic, and I giggle a little when they mix random english phrases into the song (“for ya bay-bay,” “finally you’re in my life”). When I think of upsides to globalization this makes the list.

The world is definitely getting smaller. Scenes that once lived in separate streams now jostle on the regular. It’s a world of collaborations and mash-ups. I mean, rappers I follow on twitter regularly cross scene lines to holler at each other and jump on tracks together. It’s not just the digital proximity of the players, but the speed and volume of the incursions. It’s crazy, and I like it. But as much as I admire the oddball ambiguity of our current moment, cross-pollination and strange influence really is the story of recorded culture, probably just with the speed dialled down, and the discoveries happening in the real physical world, not our digital blender (I can imagine the PM Dawn guys finding the Spandau Ballet record in a bargain bin or something).

Chances are that I’m in the minority, but one of the peaks of collided worlds for me is definitely Set Adrift On Memory Bliss by PM Dawn, which samples Spandau Ballet. It’s two of my favorite aural universes (eighties pop and nineties r+b) drafted onto the same slice of pop music. And the video is a genuinely strange trip through the most bohemian sector of 90′s style. If I was braver man I’d definitely model my closet after these guys.

As a rule of thumb, Torontonians don’t dance at shows. I’ve been to dozens since I was 15, and the majority look like this: a few lonely people at the front who gyrate wildly, surrounded by a sea of people who either stand stock still, nod their head, or rock back and forth very slightly. This has probably changed since dubstep started taking over a lot of the clubs, but for an indie-ish show, that’s my memory.

The reason why the Friendly Fires should be very, very famous is that they turned a mid-size Toronto audience into a writhing, hooting mass of dancers. I don’t know exactly how they did that, but even I felt like I was transported into my sixteen year old body during the set. They’re groovy as hell, incredibly invested in putting on a good show, and churn out anthemic records on the regular. I mean, the lead singer was dancing in the audience (trailing a 60 foot mic cord) during the first song. It was hilarious. You should buy their newest record PALA here.