So, Jay-Z is scoring Baz Lurhmann's The Great Gatsby, along with the Bullitts. Spare me the "Jay-Z and Gatsby are the same" blog posts because they aren't the same (Kanye has a little bit of James Gatz's phoney-baloney, self-made, self-loathing spirit, though). However, I would say that Jay-Z's "Song Cry," with its end-of-a-relationship crumble is Fitzgerald-like; Particularly the lines, "You helped me get the keys to that V dot 6/ We was so happy poor, but when we got rich/ That's when our signals crossed"," in its diagnosis of the connection between ennui and upward mobility. Nevertheless, I'm excited by the prospect of Jay-Z providing soundtrack input. He's got two decades worth of well-sequenced, thoughtfully conceptualized rap albums that prove he knows how to organize other people's music, and one can imagine his role as curator working out well, like Wes Anderson's fairly visible music supervisor Randall Poster. Plus, Luhrmann reaching out a rapper for a Jazz Age story shows a keen understanding of hip-hop's contributions to American popular music.

Chief Keef "Citgo"
Imagine an alternate rap reality where Chief Keef didn't break through with "Bang," "I Don't Like," a shit-ton of homegrown YouTube views, and a Southside, Chicago cred-filled backstory, but as another avant-rap dude chilling out on the Internet with "Citgo," a very #BASED, trap-meets-ambient-Eno, Soulja Boy-esque slow grower that you cannot shake from your head and won't want to anyway. Keef is very good at these kinds of songs. As Jordan Sargent said in SPIN's Finally Rich review: "[Chief Keef] take the shortest — and, crucially, the catchiest — route to connecting with his audience." Relegated to a bonus track on Finally Rich for some reason, "Citgo" oughta replace French Montana warbler "Diamonds," creating a mid-album post-Pluto trilogy along with "Laughin' to the Bank" and "Ballin'." There's also the fascinating story behind this song: Produced by a Polish teenager named Young Ravisu and discovered by Keef when the 17 year-old rapper searched "finally rich type beats" on YouTube. RIYL: Fripp & Eno's Evening Star, old Nintendo music, the Blade Runner-y parts of Jeezy's The Inspiration.

Cisum, feat. Willis & Sunny Da Showoff "Perfect Sundae"
The end of G-Side (for now, at least) sent the Alabama Internet rap scene back to 2008 or so, when it was an area with a seemingly endless amount of talent (Jackie Chain, Kristmas, PRG'z) and no center to hold it all together. Despite flirtations with mainstream success (Jackie Chain's “Rollin',” 6 Tre G's “Fresh,” Yelawolf, before he totally lost the plot), it was the aggressively on-their-own G-Side who best exemplified what was going on in Alabama. Now, G-Side are gone (their final song, “Listen to My Demo,” was released on New Year's Eve). But we've got Cassettes, something like a rejoinder from G-Side manager and Huntsville rap consigliere Codie G to Diplo's important but a little bit icky 2008 compilation Fear & Loathing in Hunts Vegas. A few names are somewhat familiar (K.L.U.B. Monsta, Mata, DJ Burn One), but the thrill of Cassettes is diving into a pool of truly undiscovered, not-yet-figured-out talent. "Perfect Sundae” is the stand-out, thanks to its beachy beat, friends-kickin'-rhymes vibe, and weird vocal tics, like how one of the rappers pronounces "khakis" like “car keys.”

The-Dream "Wake Me When It's Over"
As a sensitive bro/gigantic asshole who recently ended a relationship (and who has more than a few friends asking, "So, what'd you do?"), this track from the-Dream's 1977 (slightly refashioned from its August 2011 release when it was credited to Terius Nash and given away for free) speaks to me, man. Not really, though it is an interesting and very Internet-era twist on the falling-out-of-love sad-sack slow jam wail. It's TMI pop that wouldn't exist without hip-hop's decades of over-sharing. Here, My Dear 2.0? And what would R&B in the 2010s be if it weren't a way for feckless males to feel better about themselves? Recall that 1977 originally came out about year after it was revealed that The-Dream cheated on wife Christina Milian, who had recently given birth to their child. This song seems like an attempt to tell magazines and gossip blogs, which have constructed a narrative based on his indiscretions, that they don't know all the details, which, of course, just makes The-Dream look like more of a last-word dick. There is some sense of propriety here, though. The-Dream must know he comes off like an 808s-Kanye-style maniac, reeling from the end of something (“Now I'm feeling crazy and foolish”), here, right?

Grip Plyaz "Child Support"
Oh boy, wasn't trying to turn this week's list of songs into some sort of stupid-ass "Men's Rights" thing where, like, dudes have feelings too, but then again, isn't that part of the story of hip-hop? Once the genre established the male superhero MC who was impervious to everything around him, from police to crumb-bum rappers to ladies on his jock, it began dismantling that image with confessional raps about broken hearts and dead friends. So, yes, Atlanta MC Grip Plyaz, who's responsible for too-weird-to-go-viral blog-rap anthems like "Fuck Dat Hipster Shit," Tarantino Death Proof-tribute "Stuntman Mike," and the Richard Pryor-flipping "Died (In Yo Pussy)," finally opens up on "Child Support," a blues rap sing-song about falling in love, out of love, and then things get worse from there. "I was a real live player but she tried to take me off the court," Grip croons, like a hybrid of Dungeon Family member Witchdoctor and Anthony Hamilton, “Fell in love, had a kid with her, now I'm on child support.” If it's all a little too real for you, don't worry, because the next track on Purp, Wind, & Fire is called “Jackie Joyner.” It features Trinidad Jame$ and samples Vangelis' Chariots of Fire theme.

Starlito "Money Cacti"
Nashville, Tennessee weirdo Starlito over Kendrick Lamar's "Money Trees." The title turned into "Money Cacti" just because. Other freestyles from his newest mixtape Funerals & Court Dates include "Golden Girls & Grahams" (Trinidad Jame$' "All Gold Everything") and "Love Hate Lito" (Chief Keef's “Love Sosa”). Starlito's distracted wheeze jumps up and down inside of this Beach House-sampling beat, as he takes on both the buggy, corner hugging flow of Kendrick Lamar, and Jay Rock's Parker-novel-pure bluntness. As is often the case, Lito's diary-like raps ("My homeboy just domed a nigga, I just hope the lord forgive him"; "As a kid, all I wanted was some 'draulics and some bitches/ Ain't too proud to say I probably got some issues") keep you coming back to what could be just another beat-jack. And in the final moments, he tosses out a manifesto on why he isn't, say, where Kendrick Lamar is right now: "And I ain't signed because I refuse to be exploited." Starlito had an inspired 2012 and not enough people noticed. I made this “Best of Starlito 2012” mix to help you catch up.

Now that Skrillex has gone and given us his best Burial impersonation, all bets are off for electronic music in 2013. For the record, I applaud Skrillex for trying something different, but his beats here aren't a patch on those of the Hessle/Hemlock axis that seem to have inspired him, and the piano and vocals are way too saccharine for my tastes. I'll just be happy if the tune doesn't inspire a revival of the term "future garage," but a quick scan of the blogs suggests I shouldn't hold my breath.

For today's Friday Five selection, a grab bag of sounds: Ambient records from Ethernet and Mountains, IDM-inspired beat music from Nosaj Thing, a new house podcast from Detroit's Monty Luke, and a newly remastered reissue of two classic tracks from Theo Parrish and Carl Craig.

Theo Parrish / Carl Craig "Falling Up" remasters (Third Ear Recordings)
It's hard to believe, but Carl Craig's monumental reinterpretation of Theo Parrish's "Falling Up" turns eight this year. The upside of that realization? Enough time has passed since the tune's heyday that DJs once again can break it out without worrying about overkill — for a while, after all, that track was the very definition of "ubiquitous"; back in 2005 and 2006, you might well have heard it in every single DJ's set on a given night.

Trying to stay one step ahead of a recent spate of bootleggers, Third Ear Recordings is reissuing Craig's remake and Parrish's original on a new, remastered 12-inch. It's the first time, apart from a 2007 pressing on the French label Syncrophone, that both versions have appeared on the same release. (While originally billed as a remix, Craig's rework "is not strictly a remix, since there are no samples from the original version in the track," says Third Ear founder Guy McCreery.) Additionally, both cuts have been remastered by Berlin's Stefan Betke (a.k.a., Pole). I have yet to hear the new versions on a good system, but even on headphones, Betke's masters sound noticeably punchier and more spacious than the originals. Both tracks feel ever so slightly more aerated. Carl Craig's "Falling Up" sounds more epic than ever; Parrish's "Falling Up" still sounds damn near runic in its muddy mysteries, but its inscrutable nether regions are shot through with a hint of illumination.

Mountains Centralia (Thrill Jockey)
Wherever you stand on Emeralds' last album, Just to Feel Anything, it's a good bet that it doesn't sound anything like you might have expected. I quite like the record, in fact — it's not my favorite of theirs, but they couldn't just go on remaking Does It Look Like I'm Here? for the rest of their career. Since Emeralds (now a duo, following Steve Hauschildt's departure this week) have apparently moved on from blissed-out dronescapes, I'm glad that Mountains are still flying that particular flag.

I don't mean to imply that Mountains are simply Emeralds redux or anything; Brendon Anderegg and Koen Holtkamp have been doing their thing as a duo since 2005 (and long before that, in other formations), and their work as Mountains has developed its own specific aesthetic. Early records mixed acoustic instrumentation and field recordings with delicate digital processing; it was only with 2011's synth-heavy Air Museum that they really ventured into full-on Emeralds terrain, strung out on overtones and arpeggios. Centralia, out January 22, finds them moving back towards more explicitly acoustic tones and tropes, with John Fahey-inspired finger-picked guitars and stately ragas informed by Terry Riley. But two-thirds of the album's tracks plunge headlong into the shimmering thrum of quicksilver arps and LFOs, as besotted by smeared light as a Joseph Turner painting.

Ethernet Opus 2 (Kranky)
While we're on the subject of ambient music, Ethernet releases his second album for Kranky on Monday, sensibly titled Opus 2. Like 2009's 144 Pulsations of Light, it's heavy on long synthesizer tones and knotty, buzzing chords, with the occasional drum machine hacking open a back door to the realm of minimalist techno. Think one part Vangelis to two parts Gas, Wolfgang Voigt's austere ambient techno project. On initial listen, the LP sounds more shadowy than 144 Pulsations, although maybe that's just the influence of the press release, which explains, "The bulk of the recording took place during the darkest months of winter in the Pacific Northwest, between night shifts providing technical support for hospital operating rooms." For all I know, the occupational detail could be all but meaningless; "night shifts providing technical support" might just mean sitting up in his underwear, answering phones while he munches on Synder's of Hannover Nibblers. But it sounds appropriately melancholic, like Bringing out the Dead with an IT twist, and the sepulchral drones and metallic pulses of tracks like "Dodecahedron" and "Pleroma" are as lonely as you could hope for — druggy and desolate, like Cliff Martinez's Drive score as heard from the bottom of a very deep well.

Nosaj Thing, Home (Innovative Leisure)
Will 2013 be the year of IDM's return? Nosaj Thing's Home suggests that it might be. The Los Angeles producer, whose last album was 2009's Drift, comes from the "beat music" community that coalesced around the Low End Theory club nights, and he's made beats for Kid Cudi and Kendrick Lamar. But Home, out January 22, takes its cues less from hip-hop than artists like Boards of Canada, Dntel, and Apparat, wedding plangent synthesizer melodies to wriggly little wisps of beats. I don't make the IDM connection disparagingly, though, and in any case, the elegance of Nosaj Thing's constructions sets them apart from music that's convoluted for the sake of being convoluted. The garage-inflected "Tell" stakes out a position between Jamie xx and Floating Points, and "Snap" shows off his peculiar sense of swing; "Try," featuring Toro y Moi, is a particularly opalescent take on R&B, while "Eclipse/Blue," featuring Kazu Makino, dials Radiohead-grade melancholy up to 160 beats per minute without breaking a sweat.

Monty Luke, "Unknown Tones Mix 01"
Finally, sticking to the grab-bag theme of this week's column, a new monthly podcast from Detroit's Monty Luke, head of the Black Catalogue label, promises to be a great resource for house music fans who like to dig a little deeper. Luke told me that he plans to focus on unreleased and hard-to-find tracks; I've only heard two or three cuts off his inaugural edition, which features cuts from Scott Grooves, Kyle Hall, Cobblestone Jazz, and Luke himself, along with unknown-to-me names like Bantam Lions and Velvet Season & The Hearts of Gold. There's no tracklisting provided with the mix, but Luke shouts out most of the tracks when he plays them; his occasional banter (and dude's got a great radio voice, BTW) lends the set the off-the-cuff feel of a radio mix show. I anticipate tuning in regularly.

Back in June, when David Lowery, the guy from Camper Van Beethoven and Cracker, took on the so-called "Free Culture movement"— mostly in response to a 21-year-old intern at NPR admitting that she, like most 21-year-olds, got most of her music for free — I kept thinking, "Where does rap music fit into all of this?" It's no surprise that an aging-out rocker would not consider hip-hop in his missive, but Lowery also teaches classes on the music business at the University of Georgia. I would hope that something, anything, about rap's top-down embrace of free downloading culture might've popped up on his radar. I waited for most of 2012 for the discussion to turn to rap, and it never happened.

Not that I need to tell anyone reading this, but the narrative of rap music, since at least the middle of the 2000s, has been all about free download mixtapes. With record sales cratering, the major labels put the squeeze on their artists, forcing them to produce singles or go into a permanent label limbo. In response, rappers began releasing music for free or via a quasi-legal mixtape network. This music often afforded the artists a second career, and in some cases, pushed them into the mainstream or, at least, helped them make a name for themselves on rap blogs. Nearly every mainstream rap star of the past five years or so has built his or her reputation on free downloads. You know all of this already, though, right?

Hip-hop is also a rarefied case study in file-sharing, song-stealing, and all that because it has been battling "free culture" for longer. Bootlegging was a genuine problem in rap music. Comparisons between hand-to-hand bootlegging and free downloading is dicey, because the accessibility of free music online is so much broader than on-the-streets, out-the-trunk bootleg sellers, but the effect of physical piracy was significant pre-Internet. It screwed up people's albums. Nas' 1999 album I Am... was supposed to be a double disc until it became an early victim of Internet leaking; from torrents to mom-and-pop stores to weird dudes on the sidewalk, so went the new Nas record; then he put out a different album altogether. 

Jay-Z's Vol. 3...Life and Times of S. Carter, was bootlegged before its release, leading to changes in the American tracklisting. The spin by Jay-Z at the time was that he was taking on the bootleggers. He also infamously stabbed Lance "Un" Rivera, who he believed was responsible for leaking the album. In 2004, when Danger Mouse's Beatles/Jay mash-up, The Grey Album, became a music-dork phenomenon, Jay-Z spoke kindly of the project and took it as a compliment. That speaks to hip-hop's nuanced understanding of free culture, bootlegging, and sampling. Both Jay-Z and Nas provide pre-Internet examples of how to deal with the problems inherent in bootlegging and free culture. They did not ignore it or throw their hands up in frustration; they kept it moving, and adjusted their product accordingly. Though, yes, Jay-Z did stab a guy over bootlegging, which is far more noxious and childish than, say, Metallica suing Napster.

In November, at Pitchfork, Damon Krukowski of Galaxie 500 and Damon & Naomi, wrote "Making Cents," a reasonable and numbers-based wake-up call to those unaware of how little an artist benefits from streaming services like Spotify. It was the piece that David Lowery should have written. And Spotify, perhaps the most interesting part of this free-culture debate, was something Lowery spent just a paragraph or so addressing, as if its corruption were self-evident. I wouldn't take Krukowski to task for not crowbarring rap references into his very personal essay. However, I remain shocked that the numerous responses to Krukowski's piece didn't find a place for hip-hop in the free-culture debate, either.

Two of the smartest responses to Krukowski, though, do help unpack rap's curious role in free culture. The "creative crisis" in electronic music that Philip Sherburne diagnosed in SPIN's Control Voltage blog ("Dance Music's Creative Crisis: It's Not Just Streaming") hasn't happened in rap music. Actually, quite the opposite has occurred. And Maura Johnston's piece debunking the "touring solves everything" argument, while important, doesn't apply to hip-hop quite yet. I am certainly guilty of preaching the touring economy and free-culture gospel. But for good reason, I think. It is only in the past few years that rappers have been able to hop onto festival bills and play small rock clubs with relative ease. If you're in your teens or early twenties, you may not realize how, just a few years ago, even a fairly "conscious" rap show often included a heavy police presence and pat-downs at the door. 

Another way to look at hip-hop's savvy embrace of touring and the Internet: Rappers are more used to the weird contingencies of the music industry than rock musicians. That which white privilege affords many white musicians is generally not taken for granted by most black artists. Most rappers are thrilled by the idea of doing shows for a few thousand bucks and not having to depend on shady promoters who may or may not pay them, and will probably hold them responsible for every broken bottle in the parking lot. They are also creatively invigorated by the opportunity to release their own music, separate from bottom line-obsessed, often rap-clueless record executives. 

As for Spotify, you won't hear rappers mention the service very much. Primarily because their audience doesn't use it the way rock fans do. This relates to the problematic changes to the Billboard charts, which now consider Spotify plays and iTunes downloads. When it comes to rap, iTunes and Spotify are months behind the curve. Those chart changes do very little to help identify what's hot in rap music, because rap breaks and thrives on the free side of the Internet. Similarly, Spotify is a nice place to check out certain older rap albums and hear new major-label releases, but DatPiff is a more common place to identify what's buzzing in the world of hip-hop. Perhaps, the R&B/Hip-Hop Billboard chart should consider downloads and plays from DatPiff, LiveMixtapes, and others.

I also think rappers are less apt to worry about Spotify's pay-out system because hip-hop has a long, frustrating, but ultimately productive history when it comes to cash-grabbing, couldn't-care-less-about-the-culture schlockmeisters paving the way for money to be made later on. Hip-hop's business is not something rappers are ashamed of, or are looking to downplay. As a result, hip-hop has not been infected by the third- or fourth-generation punk and rock'n'roll ethos that has to pretend like money-making isn't part of the game. And so the idea of complaining about not being paid by a business that has yet to make any money off your services probably sounds a little petulant.

All that said, rap music is beginning to feel the repercussions of Internet free culture. Frustrating copyright laws, as they pertain to sampling, keep hip-hop within the orbit of free culture where deception and under-the-radar, legal gray areas are necessary to make their art. Last year, even the world of free mixtapes got hit by out-of-date ideas of ownership, enacted by labels for sure, but musicians as well. In June, Mac Miller was sued by Lord Finesse when the frat-rapper beat-jacked "Hip 2 Da Game." In August, Curren$y explained that his collaborative mixtape with Wiz Khalifa was delayed because of sample clearance concerns. It still has not been released.

In a post-Mac Miller vs. Lord Finesse world, rappers now have to cover their asses for sampling on free mixtapes, even?! This could have terrible ramifications on hip-hop, which went through a creative renaissance during the past few years, because it was safe to assume that music given away for free confounded copyright laws, or didn't seem like a legal battle worth pursuing. In terms of creative freedom for beatmakers, the years 2008-12 were like late-'80s hip-hop before Gilbert O'Sullivan went after Biz Markie and sample-clearance became mandatory. The Internet's Wild West approach to copyright law may stick around, but it will get harder and harder for high-profile artists to get in on the anything-goes fun. The quality of their work will undoubtedly suffer.

Last year also marked the year that major-label rap albums started to feel like fully-formed expressions and not by-committee clusterfucks of crossover and fanbase narrowcasting. It seems like the hit-grabbing nature of major-label rap finally ran its course, as we received excellent albums from Big K.R.I.T. (Live From the Underground), Kendrick Lamar (good kid, m.A.A.d city), and Chief Keef (Finally Rich). All arrived fairly uncompromised, and were arguably improvements on the artists' mixtape releases. All three sounded expensive and expressive thanks to big budgets for mixing and mastering. Outside feedback on sequencing and songwriting made them rewarding listens. Yet they were undeniably the products of the rapper whose name was stuck on the front cover.

In particular, the Internet-ish qualities of Finally Rich are worth noting. The pre-song rant about Chief Keef on "Love Sosa" is pulled from a YouTube video of a fan excitedly talking about the rapper. And mindbending bonus track "Citgo" was produced by a beatmaker named Young Ravisu who was discovered by Keef when he searched YouTube for amateurs aping his drill style. "Citgo" even sounds a bit like Keef is simply rapping over the beat as it plays from his computer. The song's a sloppy mixtape experiment stuck onto a major-label album. That's a fascinating victory for Internet rap cracking the mainstream. Problems with Spotify and people "stealing" music can wait. For now, at least, artistic autonomy on the Internet and on major labels, plus the ability to finally tour with comfort, supersede the concerns of some alt-rock veterans who maybe had it a little better than they're willing to admit.

As SPIN reported yesterday, the casting director behind an as-yet untitled reality show about DJ culture is Doron Ofir, the man responsible for discovering the outsized personalities behind Jersey Shore, RuPaul's Drag Race, Millionaire Matchmaker, and dozens of similar series — a man whose claim to fame, you might say, is making other people infamous.

Nevertheless, he assured SPIN in a breathless phone interview yesterday that his intentions in seeking talent for an EDM reality show (working title: Superstar DJ) are anything but exploitative. In fact, Ofir himself is a former club kid and nightclub doorman. According to Salon, it was during his years manning the velvet ropes that he trained his eagle eye not just to sort out the drab from the fabulous, but the will-bes from the wanna-bes; his sixth sense for detecting garish characters is what eventually gave the world Snooki, JWOWW, and the Situation. Now, Ofir says, he wants to utilize those same talents to help make the world of dance music a more dynamic place — while inviting the entire television audience behind the velvet rope, as it were.

As it turns out, Ofir's own personality is as flamboyant as the characters he unearths for the screen. "You guys are wrecking me, stop it!" he exclaimed upon picking up the phone, laughing as he feigned deep emotional injury. "I just saw your article, and I was like, 'Really? Mean!'"

Without revealing many details about the show or its production company, which plans to make a full announcement later in January, Ofir spoke at length about his intentions for the competition-based series, as well as his own decades-long involvement in dance music. "One of the greatest moments of my life was Carl Cox at Marbella in Barcelona, watching the sun rise," said Ofir near the close of the interview. "I'll never forget it, because he broke Laurent Garnier's 'The Man With the Red Face' that night. I have a million of those stories, so understand that I'm going to do my best to make this legit."

What can you tell us about the EDM reality show you're casting?
I can give you broad strokes, because the main announcement's coming in January. The only affiliation to Jersey Shore [is my casting company], by the way, because it is not the production company behind Jersey Shore. They're going to call me any minute and be like, "What are you doing?"

Can you share who the producers are?
It's under wraps until the third week of January. They want to announce it and legitimize all the people who are involved, and it's a lot. I'd like to say that it's the titans of the industry. But there's a reason that I'm casting this over any other company, because I understand this world probably better than anyone else in the television entertainment pop-culture universe. That's a really important factor to this, because any way you slice it, dance music has been here since the mid-'70s, when the birth of disco started.

I actually think that Jersey Shore helped sort of reduce the influence of hip-hop currently. Jersey Shore brought back that sort of beat-the-beat, that throw-your-fist-and-dance, to a mainstream perspective. Now. Electronic dance music is a worldwide phenomenon and has been sorely under-recognized in the United States. So that's number one. Number two, my background is from nightclubs. That's what I did. I broke artists long before there was ever an agency system that was actually representing electronic dance music culture. I broke my teeth with Jellybean Benitez, all the way up through Skrillex. I started in New York, Sound Factory bar. Sound Factory. Twilo. Limelight. Tunnel. USA. Chaos. Envy. Jet Lounge. Everything from innovative house music — let me go even further back. Everything from freestyle — so Louie Vega, David Morales, Frankie Knuckles — to the birth of bass house to electronic dance. Then I moved to Miami in 1991 and helped launch the Winter Music Conference for DJs, which is now the largest dance music convention in the world. So there's an element of passion and truth that I have. That's why they tapped me, to at least be able, with a discerning eye, to weed through the nonsense and actually be able to create something that will help bring music to the forefront and back to television in a way that's actually legitimate.

That's interesting you say that, because I had wanted to ask how you intended to represent the history of DJ culture on the show.
Oh my God, you posted that article, and suddenly I'm like, "I'm being hated on," and I was like, "OK, I get it." But when you think of things like the Electric Daisy Carnival, and, like, Coachella, when Coachella first started, it was a rock venue. Now there's massive tents and it's electronic music all the way. There's an entire industry that has been built to cater to this. We have been trapped in a world of what I consider the ultra-lounge for a decade. Finally we get to bring back the soul of music that comes from the point of view of dance as a celebration, not as a sexual outlet — do you know what I'm saying? By 1994, what had dominated large-scale dance fizzled and ended. And then what we had was '94 to 2000, which was sort of the rave scene, but that was really, really young. And now they have evolved into the next generation. The time has come to actually educate the world of music about its formidable past. If you're going to sample Etta James in a dance track, they should know who Etta James is. There are legends and heroes and kings in the world of this music, and it wasn't born yesterday. So it's time to define the impact that dance music has had over the last 35 years to a much larger, worldwide audience. That's my goal.

Do you know how the show is going to try to do that?
All of this will come about. And by the way, I would never have signed on to this project if I didn't actually believe in the people who are putting it together. The main announcement is coming in January, and it'll come in phases. But [the people involved] are legends, they are true to the craft. From a television point of view, there are decades of experience in the television formattable side of it. But there's a lot of emphasis, a lot of sensitivity, to the community itself to make it legitimate.

The question of legitimacy is strangely interesting. Because you've got what I consider your garage DJs that are spinning in really small venues in small towns all across America, that are incredibly innovative, that never in a million years would have the opportunity to be heard. So they can put a podcast up tomorrow, but without any actual recognition, no one knows what they are doing. And whether they are fusing in mashups country hits, and they are the king and queen of SXSW, they'll never really transcend into a warehouse space in the Bronx. Because dance music is arbitrary. People like different things. Just like a dance floor. When you break up the dance floor, you see it: There are the people that dance by the speakers, that dance in a circle, there are those that just throw fists staring up at the DJ. There's an entirely different subculture and a hierarchy that exist on the floor itself, and it's all based on individual tastes. So this is a way of expanding that world and showing all the different variety that exists within dance music currently — but with a bit of talent, because these are the future producers that will be making the next wave of music.

So you're looking for talent as well as just strong personalities.
Of course! Ultimately, they have to have talent in order to be able to succeed. You have to understand the mathematical and engineering prowess that it takes to be a DJ now. This is not about creating the perfect song list on your iPad. This is about understanding the dynamics of music in its ultimate foundation and building from there and letting others know how this is done.

How do you translate that to television?
This is going to be an interesting challenge for production to create. However, it's just as visual as anything else. For a real DJ to start out and to be able to show their vision, it's not just about the music. They have to understand the room. They have to understand the design elements of a room. How music saturates the floor. What kind of emphasis and color, light spectrums, everything that creates the actual experience that you're about to partake in. If you're Swedish House Mafia, you don't just sit up there and play, you control everything from its concert direction. So it's so much more than just being what people consider a DJ. We're not looking for the Bar Mitzvah DJ — which, by the way, if there's a brilliant one out there, I'm totally willing to hear him! It's giving the opportunity to everybody for the time to make the dream a reality. Because not everyone's going to get the Vegas contract. Not everyone's going to get to play LIV in Miami. Not everyone's going to be able to play Pacha.

I wanted to get back to the competition aspect of the show —
You're trying to figure out how it's going to be done? That is yet to be determined. For me, I don't know, because I'm not there episode 5. My job is to be able to present the greatest opportunity to the general public, and then hopefully use some of my expertise and the production's expertise and all of the people involved, including the network, to be able to find the best talent to move forward. Now, you could say this is Top Chef 2 — you never actually learn to cook, and you never taste the food. But you understand the dynamic of what is happening on a show like that, which is a multi-Emmy-winning show, and it's now in its what, 14th season? So there's an element of that, and the difference here is there's actual trial and error.

The one definitive answer I could say about this, is there's definitely a competition basis to this. There is an elimination process. Only one can be the winner. But the exposure in this is unlimited. And ultimately, I'm assuming at this point, it will transcend what they do. Because it's one thing to play music; you also have to be a master of ceremonies. In this day and age, these superstars are also visual acts themselves. For the first time in history, we're actually giving the opportunity for people who are all of this. They have to have the personality to engage an audience. They also have to have the talent to back it up, and they have to have the vision in order to transcend and create something bigger than themselves. Which is why this is a star-making vehicle.

Well, you've sold me. I'm eager to see the pilot.
Well, I'm still pissed! I was like, "What is this article?" I had been waiting 20 years, by the way, for the return of large-scale dance floors where, honestly, you can feel the love. That, to me, has always been the definition of dance music: An audible manifestation of soul and love. It's non-violent. It's not negative. It's not derogatory. It's only positive! And that's a really interesting thing that has lost focus in the world of dance music. You don't see color, you don't see sexuality, you don't see anything. The legends in the world of dance have always been that. And the venues have always been that and they've always transcended that, whether it was Ministry of Sound, Cream, Roxy New York City, the Probe in L.A., Cherry in L.A., Cro-Bar Chicago, Paradise Garage, Body and Soul… These things are legends. Studio 54 in its heyday, Danceteria in its heyday, even the Parrots, Green and Red Parrots. It's a crazy thing, and there's a lot of kids out there that are 15, 16, 17, that don't understand the sacrifice that has come to bring music to this point. So this is not a death knell to it, it's actually a celebration of it.

There is a foundational history and there's something about the musical journey. When you go out, when electronic dance music fans go out, they don't necessarily go out to hook up. It's not that. They go out to experience an escape from their day-to-day lives and become something bigger and better. They transcend it. Their energy is awakened on the dance floor and they become connected to each other in a way that's almost tribal. Which is why there are so many variations to the history of dance music, whether it is tribal or drum and bass or, you know, dubstep, which is so electronically saturated. You go back to some of the gospel house, these epic voices and old-school piano tracks. There's so much to this world. The truth is, regardless how this show plays out, it has to have a television appeal. It has to make audiences want to be engaged, which is the most important part of this. So they will engage in the process of this.

By a voting system?
I'm going to leave it at that. That was a gift. OK? So if you could help me out, and spread the word? I appreciate the press for what the press does, but I hope they see something bigger in this, and don't think of it as, "Oh no, they're going to kill the genre." I think NOW 18, the dance-music compilations, are what ruin music. [Laughs]

Reality television has already produced its first celebrity DJ in the form of Jersey Shore's Pauly D; it seems only fair, then, that non-celebrity DJs now have a shot at becoming honest-to-goodness reality stars in their own right. As reported by Mixmag, Popular Productions' Doron Ofir Casting has initiated an online casting call for what it bills as "the first electronic dance music reality/competition show."

The casting call offers no details on the nature of the as-yet untitled show, which is referred to only as "Superstar DJ (working title) (the 'project')." But based on the questionnaire, it looks like the producers are looking for applicants with at least a modicum of experience, and a biographical backstory that would make for good television. One question asks, "Would you consider yourself a 'technical expert' or 'creative performer'? Justify your choice!" Another queries, "What obstacles have you had to overcome to pursue your dream of becoming a DJ?"

But DJs who are hoping for a Project Runway-style emphasis on craft may want to think twice about applying. Casting director Doron Ofir's credits include Jersey Shore, A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila, and Paris Hilton's My New B.F.F., among other crown jewels in the televisual patrimony, and he makes no bones about his role in reality TV's race to the bottom. "We are pioneers of an ugly age," Ofir told BlackBook Magazine in 2010. "When people come in they have complete misconceptions about themselves. We do our thing, getting them to reveal themselves in the worst way."

In fact, the "Appearance Release" appended to the casting application cautions exactly that, albeit in slightly denser legalese: "I acknowledge that such use [of my image, etc.] may be expose me, my family, and/or others to public ridicule or embarrassment, and may contain information, statements, or representations relating to me of a personal, private, disparaging, embarrassing and/or unfavorable nature, all of which may be summarized, edited, or modified in a manner that may be misleading or untrue."

DJs undaunted by that prospect can apply at www.edmcasting.com and are encouraged to use the hashtag "#EDMCASTING." Because #YOLO, right?

Lee Bannon began last year with Fantastic Plastic, a producer album featuring rappin' ass legends like Inspectah Deck and Del the Funky Homosapien, right-now underground types like YU and Chuuwee, and on my favorite track, "Phone Drone," some dude on YouTube screaming excitedly about getting the new iPhone. Yet, Bannon's expressive full-length stayed under the radar even as the Sacramento producer's profile raised significantly, thanks to his involvement in Joey Bada$$'s Pro Era crew, producing "Enter the Void," featuring Ab-Soul, and acting as tour DJ for the 17-year-old rapper. Fantastic Plastic remains a hidden gem from 2012 rap's all-over-the-place burst of creativity and you should check it out. Bannon's instrumental EP, Caligula Theme Music, is worth a listen as well.

For Super Helpful, Bannon's beats go to Chuck Strangers, best known as a producer for Pro Era ("Daily Routine" and "FromdaTomb$") but here, rapping with Kwame 3000. As is often the case with Bannon's work, it's grounded in underground boom bap, though it never stays in that box for long, briskly moving into zombie soundtrack score synths, trip-hop drift, and new age. And the breezy energy of this Pro Era-associated EP is a cathartic relief after the tragic death of Pro Era member Capital Steez on December 24. Joey Bada$$ guests on "Lawns," which lopes and squeaks like some lost, especially stoned Quasimoto track, then ends with a Busta Rhymes coda. "2step (apex version)" feels like Nas' classic demo "Deja Vu" — tape-hiss hip-hop gone Tim Hecker. Super Helpful's The Help is out tomorrow for free, but you can stream below right now, exclusively at SPIN.

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Not sure what happened here, folks, but I really wandered into my own world this second half of the year! No radio hits unless Chinx Drugz and French Montana's hyper-regional hit “I'm a Coke Boy” counts. And despite my old-fashioned rule of not allowing anyone to show up twice, two cult rap acts make multiple appearances: Alchemist sneaked through with two beats, and Gunplay makes two appearances, one on 601 & Snort's tight-lipped closer from “Bible on the Dash,” and then, crooning like a goof on a Miami Sound Machine-esque Trina cut that went nowhere. For some perspective, the list at mid-year included 2 Chainz four times. I'll try to get out of my head for the New Year. But yeah, combine these two lists and you get a “Top 100 Mostly Rap Songs of 2012” list that I stand by, nonetheless.

8Ball "Lucky's Theme"
Memphis hero raps the treatment for his directorial debut, hopefully.

100s "My Activator"
Evil pimp-rap dignified by a Hollywood Shuffle sample and Boards of Canada-like beat.

Action Bronson & the Alchemist "Sylvester Lundgren"
Ghostface-sounding jabroni's Black Moon impression.

The Alchemist, feat. Mr. MFN eXquire "The Kosmos pt. 7 – The Explanation"
Like a lost Jack Kirby comic left in Stan the Man's drawer, rapped into reality.

Antwon "Sittin' in Hell"
Self-loathing sex raps over a stammering soul beat from Big Baby Ghandhi.

Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti "Mature Themes"
Nice Jewish boy Ah-REE-ehl bemoans his age and height and all-encompassing ickiness.

Big Sant, feat. King Mez, Tito Lopez, and Phonte "Rap Nigga"
Great rap song. Terrible testament to the South's skillz. Just ignore the trolls, you four.

B L A C K I E "Everybody Knows (When We Get Together)"
Utopian piano-punk noise rap. Fuck with it.

Cat Power "Manhattan"
Best sad-pop slow jam from an entire album of "Cross Bones Style"s.

Chinx Drugz, feat. French Montana "I'm a Coke Boy"
Shouts to the prick teens I saw singing this on the way to school one morning.

Cities Aviv "Escorts"
Sick-duck rap dickhead track about boppers, while a quiet-storm soulster gasps for air.

Dice Raw "Tea Party"
Remember when there was, like, sort of a chance Mitt Romney was going to be the president?

Fabolous "B.I.T.E."
Struggle raps' #YOLO. Not quite as dumb, but not half as catchy, either

Fatima Al Qadiri "Oil Well"
16-bit "warno" ruminations mock indie fucks' "LULZ-DA-'90S"-wave.

Frank Ocean "Pyramids"
Heady, shake-club epic from the set of Doctor Who episode 082, "The Pyramids of Mars."

Freddie Gibbs, feat. Kirko Bangz “Bout It Bout It”
Further proof radio's a joke. Could've been a hit. Oh, what's that? Jeezy dropped him? That explains it.

Gene the Southern Child “The Police Pulled Me Over”
Like a painfully polite “99 Problems.”

Gunplay “Bible on the Dash”
Most tragic and transcendent rap song of 2012.

Heems “Running Thru the Jungle”
Along with Nehru Jackets, here's what Himanshu can do when he tries.

Hello Skinny “Crush”
Resident superfans' smoky instrumental ready for a Hal Hartley soundtrack.

Iamsu! “Mobbin'”
Ratchet music meets synth-laser Sabbath “Hand Of Doom” riff.

Jeremiah Jae “One Herb”
Reedy industrial rap from a spawn of Odd Future.

JJ Doom “Wash Your Hands”
Rap-game Howard Hughes turns a blacklight on in the club.

Kanye West “White Dress”
Heartwarming TMZ-rap. Kanye returns to soul beats when he “really means it.”

Kendrick Lamar, feat. MC Eiht “m.A.A.d city”
K. Dot taunts Crips and Bloods. Not because he thinks he's invincible. Because he knows he isn't.

Main Attrakionz “24th Hour”
Harry Fraud turns chipmunk-soul into Smurf-soul. MaZ try and channel scrappy Jay-Z.

Mala “Changuito”
Mindful wubby tribute to Cuban percussionist. Read what Julianne Escobedo Shepherd said here, though.

Miguel “Kaleidoscope Dream”
Centerpiece of one of 2012's best albums: An Eminem x Brothers Johnson x Shuggie Otis mash-up.

The Mountain Goats “Lakeside View Apartments Suite”
Lived in an apartment like the one described. May or may not have bought angel dust. Had no army surplus jacket.

Mykki Blanco “Riot”
The best Lil Wayne song of 2012, or 2011. Possibly 2010, as well.

Mystikal “Hit Me”
Awful person and awesome rapper pays tribute to awful person and legendary singer.

Nas “A Queens Story”
Illmatic on Broadway. Nas, hat backwards, spits into one of those old-timey microphones. Somehow, not lame.

Nguzunguzu “Smoke Alarm”
Creepy instrumental R&B turned lounge music for cyborgs.

No Doubt “One More Summer”
Gwen and crew do New Order's “Regrets.” Remember when they made that weird injun video?

OXYxMORON “Flo Town”
A double-time, dorm-room dick-around session gets heavy.

Purity Ring, feat. Danny Brown “Belispeak II”
Warning! Warning! Warning! This might could be moombahton.

Robert Glasper “Twice (?uestlove's Twice Baked Remix, feat. Solange & the Roots)”
NPR-friendly jazzbo spruced up by some of the Roots' undun outtakes.

Ryan Hemsworth “Charly Wingate”
IDM tribute to Max B by the Internet's most ambitious producer.

ST 2 Lettaz “Space Jam”
The Beasties' “Intergalactic” dropped in a Block Beattaz brand blender.

The Sea and Cake “The Invitations”
Archer Prewitt and pals do 808s & Heartbreak slow burn.

Sinkane “Makin' Time”
Like a Can “Ethnological Forgery Series” cut for realz.

Steven A. Clark “Seashore”
Imagine a Miami Vice reboot starring How to Dress Well as Crockett and the Weeknd as Tubbs.

Styles P “Keep Me High”
Maze, Keith Sweat, and swaggering-though-not-swaggy Styles do the oldhead strut together.

SupaKing Big P.O.P.E. “Asthma Attack”
Huntsville minor player melodically rap-sings rubbery shit-talk.

T-Pain, feat. Big K.R.I.T. “Going Off”
iPhone-sampling idiocy tests the limits of ringtone rap. Even K.R.I.T. can't add some dignity.

Tim Hecker & Daniel Lopatin “GRM Blue II”
Exactly what a collaboration between these two should sound like. That rarely happens.

Trina, feat. Gunplay and Ice Berg “Beam”
Trina does Trina. Gunplay sings like Jimmy Buffett on a disco album that never happened.

Trinidad Jame$ “Females Welcomed”
When wailing country-rap and diva-dubstep become one.

Twin Shadow “You Can Call Me On”
Guitar hero hearthrob doesn't care about your feelings or the end of the world. Cool story bro.

UptownXO “Errybody”
Sly's “Everyday People” for the post-Neptunes generation.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, it's a little early to do this. But we're well into the non-stop whirl of year-end proceedings (check out SPIN's 40 Hip-Hop Albums of the Year if you haven't already), so all bets are off on critical appropriate-ness, I think. Not to mention, nobody ever follows through on these sorts of quarterly "year so far..."-type lists come December, and I'd like to. I don't doubt that some termite rap mixtape will sneak through before the end of the month and quietly do some fun and interesting things (later today, Grip Plyaz's Purp, Wind, & Fire is scheduled to arrive, and its exactly the sort of thing that lands on these lists), but life moves at an accelerated speed in December.

3:33, In the Middle of Infinity
Highlights: "ITMOI-2," "ITMOI-6," "White Room"
RIYL: Andrew Chalk, Nightmares on Wax, Swans
This mysterioso avant-instrumental crew have their music hosted on the site for production duo Parallel Thought, so it's safe to assume that the producers behind particularly wired work for G-Side ("Rabbits") and Del the Funky Homosapien (this year's album, Attractive Sin) are involved somehow. It's got the New Jersey beatmakers' menacing horror-movie crackle, for sure, but once In the Middle of Infinity takes off, it has very little to do with hip-hop anymore, wandering into trip-hop beatdrops, goth-rock drone, and that specific post-Basinski moment when grandiose fizz and glitch wormed its way into tastemakers' ears, and samples could steadily decay for a good hour or so, to critical acclaim. Clams Casino ain't got shit on 40-minute closer "White Room."

OXYxMORON, The Woods
Highlights: "99 Won't Do It," "Flo Town," "Campfire"
RIYL: Big K.R.I.T., Straight Out of Brooklyn, Souls of Mischief
A large, loose, baggy monster of a debut with the thematic and sonic focus of so many Pimp C-but-with-a-heart-of-gold MCs springing up lately on the Internet, and the sprawl of late-'90s Cash-Money or No Limit longplayers where more was always better. This trio from South Carolina earn their we-gon'-make-it intensity by surrounding their rhymes with a lived-in love of family, friends, and God, and by rapping their asses off plain and simple. Rhymes are kicked around the campfire, the idea of major label mixing and mastering is dismissed, a friend's auntie passes away, food stamps are compared to Pokemon cards, 8Ball & MJG are sampled, of course, and a whole bunch more. 

Prince Paul, Negroes On Ice
Highlights: "Pixel Hero," "Textual Healing," "Cheesecake Factory"
RIYL: De La Soul, Hotline Miami, Putney Swope
Joking-not-joking producer and rap-album skit innovator Prince Paul realizes what so many other hip-hop legends fail to understand: They're not going to have some gray-haired return to the charts, and chasing nostalgia to diminishing returns doesn't make you real, it just makes you sad. Instead, just do whatever the hell you want! So, on this collaboration with his son DJ P. Forreal, Paul takes us on a more-skits-than-hits audio adventure through New York City and the goofy-ass rap landscape as it looks in 2012 to a wise elder and sane up-and-comer. That's to say, Woody Allen and Lebron James slapboxing at Madison Square Garden for a Tupac Shakur Hologram event doesn't seem entirely out of the question, now does it? Important in a year where the best rap album was Kendrick Lamar's skit-friendly good kid, m.A.A.d city.  

Shadowrunners, Cyberdine
Highlights: "Countdown (To Apocalypse)," "Obnoxious Aliens," "Smooth"
RIYL: S.A. Smash, Straight-to-VHS Terminator rip-offs, Triple Six Mafia
Shadowrunners is the Los Angeles duo of Himself the Majestic, gifted with a clumsy aggressive flow delivered in a voice that's best described as "the loud hilarious dick from high school," i.e. rap-game Ken from Freaks & Geeks, and Froskees, a retro-leaning producer with an ear for 8-bit plink-plonk, old pro-wrestling theme cheez, and anime soundtracks, plus the ability to blend all that into bow-throwing, fight-rap, nerd-hop bangers. Cyberdine is what's great about this current Internet-rap renaissance: Every group can be themselves, and mix and match influences with an appropriately "whatever, bro" interest in how they tie into some larger "movement" or scene.  

SMKA, Darkest Before Dawn
Highlights: "Know About Us," "Ain't a Thing," "On Me"
RIYL: Jay Ant and Iamsu!'s STOOPID, Blue Sky Black Death, those Violator compilations
Atlanta production crew SMKA cram 15 rappers onto nine tracks and an outro, moving from slow-growing soul beats to ATLien snap to Bay Area minimalist bliss. What stands out about this single-producer/entire-region mixtape is the way that everyone wobbles just a little bit off-balance by all the pan-regional sound-hopping going on. No one is in their comfort zone, but that works because this is a dozen-plus oddballs — ALL-CAPS double-time from DB Tha General, the fast-rap humanism of Shady Blaze, the slap & bullshit of Amaar and the Jacka, just to name a few — one after another, gripping onto different parts of these beats, exploring their voices. It helps that the models for Bay Area rap remain truly weird legends like the elastic-voiced E-40 and the late Mac Dre.  

Jay-Z Illuminati conspiracists will surely find a lot to discuss in Rita Ora's new video for "Radioactive," but style hawkeyes might discover something more pressing: the RocNation rookie is looking like a don diva. Specifically, she's burning up in one of our favorite pop star-outfitting designers, Asher Levine, in the signature texture from his Battlestar Galactica-invoking spring 2013 collection. Her snow leopard power suit has on-duty boss written all over it, but Levine custom-crafted a vinyl catsuit that the video's animators saw fit to translate into her hologram body double (comes in around 2:25), and the space uniform's extra-long-sleeved second skin takes Rita where she's not yet gone before. Also, does this warrant a discussion of the mock turtleneck, and how it can possibly be functional/not dowdy in 2012? It definitely does.

The track is great — producer Greg Kurstin doing mainstream dance for chart status but also invoking the percolating burble of Robin S.'s "Show Me Love" at the bridge, a house bow that winches nicely with Ora's Sia-written vocals. More importantly, its dancefloor quotient will hopefully move the laser pointer from Ora's quasi-ex Rob Kardashian's misogynist, slut-shaming Twitter rant about her alleged infidelities back to the emerging pop singer's music, which is its most promising when she's in her native dance zone. Random fact: She and DJ Fresh scored the first drum-n-bass track to hit No. 1 on the U.K. pop charts. She's embarking on the Radioactive tour of the U.K. in January, and hopefully her first album Ora will get a push in the States after that, because for all the TMZ B.S., it's very good, like a more comfortable dance-underground follow-up to Rihanna's underrated Rated R. At just 21, Ora is quickly becoming one of our blond-haired, red-lipped style faves, and thankfully would never wear brogues on stage.

As we know from Groove magazine photographer Ragnar Schmuck's popular photographic series on DJs' living rooms, Germans tend to put a premium on keeping their Musikzimmer tidy. (Well, most of them do. Dominik Eulberg, not so much.) Now, Berlin resident Peaches sings an ode to keeping one's wax sorted: "Me, My Shelf, and I."

No, that's not a joke, and it's not a cover of a Weird Al parody of De La Soul. It is, in an oblique way, a kind of product placement: The lyrics were written by Rafael Horzon, a furniture maker known for his understated, modular, stylish-yet-affordable record shelves. I purchased some last year, and I can attest that they rule, although I may be biased, as the guys who came to install them complimented me on my record collection. (Try getting that kind of treatment when you buy your next Expedit.)

The music to the Schlager-tinged techno-pop ditty was written by Milch, a former associate of Harold Faltermeyer (yes, that Harold Faltermeyer). The German lyrics, by Horzon himself, attest to a philosophy that we might call (pace Ayn Rand) "The Virtue of Shelfishness":

I don't need any sand
I don't need any beach
I don't need any scarf
I need a shelf

I don't need any gnome
I don't need any mountain
I also need no valley
I need a shelf

Me, my shelf and I

The video, starring Horzon and one of his characteristically sleek units, is a touching love story between a man and his furniture. Whether or not you speak German, if it doesn't move you, you probably have Ikea meatballs in place of a human heart.

Ludwig Amadeus Horzon feat. Peaches' "Me, My Shelf and I" is out now on the new Martin Hossbach label. Cool hunters, take notice: This looks like the beginning of a new trend combining furniture with electronic music. This week, Berlin's Italic label will release "The Italic Chair," a chair made out of Finnish birch that pays sneaky homage to Aphex Twin's classic logo. However, priced at 357 Euros, it won't leave you much budget for shelves.