coose
Pro
Its a familiar but risky business strategy: underpromise and overdeliver.
The lineup for the 20th edition of Hot 97s Summer Jam seemed like a certain undersell, a curiously superstar-free collection of largely B- and C-listers, rookies and sophomores. No Jay-Z, no Drake, no Lil Wayne, no Nicki Minaj, no Kanye West. It practically screamed, Were hiding our big-name surprise guests!
At least, that would have fit in with Summer Jams legacy. This concert is the annual reckoning of hip-hop hierarchies in the genres birthplace. Its where beefs are often started, and less often settled; where big names bring out even bigger names onstage; where out-of-towners come to earn stripes; and where Hot 97 (WQHT 97.1 FM), which was long the only hip-hop station in town, has flaunted its dominance and clout, which rose with hip-hops commercial fortunes throughout the 1990s and 2000s.
But hip-hop isnt the oligarchy it once was, New York isnt the hub it once was, and Hot 97 isnt the only game in this diminished town. And the station has sometimes set off controversy by becoming part of the drama, not merely an observer.
Thats what happened at last years Summer Jam, when the Hot 97 D.J. Peter Rosenberg maligned one of the pop hits of Ms. Minaj, who was to be a headliner. She refused to perform that night, leading to what became perhaps the highest-profile squabble between a musician and a radio station.
About a week ago, Ms. Minaj sat for an interview with Mr. Rosenberg; the stations program director, Ebro Darden; and others in what was portrayed as a healing of wounds. She apologized for disappointing her fans. Mr. Rosenberg apologized for being bullheaded, or being perceived as bullheaded. Ms. Minaj casually demeaned Mr. Rosenberg. Everyone laughed.
The stage was set, then, for possible closure. At this years Summer Jam on Sunday night at MetLife Stadium in East Rutherford, N.J., streamed live on hot97.com, the thinking went, Ms. Minaj could perhaps perform a surprise set, bring out her label boss, Lil Wayne, and her label mate Drake, and set hip-hop back on its axis, and give this haphazard lineup some direction. (Because of travel constraints, I watched this years show via the live stream, which was mostly reliable if volume-challenged.)
She made no promises, though. That was probably because there was no way Ms. Minaj would cotton to an easy redemption narrative, or allow Hot 97 to profit from her name not yet, at least. She did come onstage midway through the show on Sunday night, during 2 Chainzs set, to perform a pair of songs. Her appearance was radiant and quick, and the reconciliation was terse and unsatisfying; she gave Mr. Rosenberg a brief, affectionless hug as she walked off the stage.
With Ms. Minaj out of the way, and on decidedly unflashy terms, it quickly became clear that Hot 97 had played its ace early: no real help was on the way. What was left wasnt a referendum on hip-hops boundaries, like last years conflict, but maybe an inadvertent one on the scale of its current ambitions.
With no big-budget names to lean on, the show made do with a different caliber of star. 2 Chainz, just two years ago effectively a castoff, was a geyser of anthems and confidence and undoubtedly the most relevant rapper in this lineup. Meek Mill, not on the bill, stole sets from both the uncharacteristically amiable Wale and Fabolous. R&B was represented by the tender Miguel, who was joined by Mariah Carey, and the limber and soulless Chris Brown.
But the tenor of the night was set by the back-to-back sets of ASAP Rocky and Kendrick Lamar, two rising stars who are chipping away at hip-hop maximalism.
ASAP Rocky is an aesthete but not a worldbeater; his charms are restrained. He was energetic, though, and he brought out Bone Thugs-N-Harmony, the great and still-underappreciated Cleveland rappers of the 1990s that he, a New Yorker with open ears, cites as a major influence.
Mr. Lamar is a different kind of star modest-size, with minor-key music who often crawls and rarely overwhelms. He was dominant during his performance, full of confidence that overshadowed his musics fundamental humility. At the end of his set, his crew and ASAP Rockys crew stood at center stage together, staking a claim to victory that was not really challenged.
The nights headliner was the human blend-tape French Montana, the hometown rapper who has made his career slurring over hits from a couple of generations ago. He was joined by Rick Ross and Lil Wayne, but this late blast of star power, just before his set abruptly ended, wasnt enough to save him, or the night.
Summer Jams traditionally blatant hometown affirmative action also meant sets from Joe Budden, lately better known for his reality TV breakdowns than for his music, and the reliable if unexciting Fabolous. It also meant an overlong set by the Wu-Tang Clan, who performed at the first Summer Jam, in 1994, before many in the audience were born.
Summer Jam is ostensibly a party, but it remains allergic to out-of-town artists with beloved breakout hits Ace Hood did perform Bugatti during French Montanas set, but there was no Juicy J for Bandz A Make Her Dance, no Young Scooter for Colombia, no Rocko for U.O.E.N.O. (though Mr. Lamar did perform his devastating remix verse from it). Of the medium-size stars, there was no Young Jeezy, no Future. Of local heroes, there was no Nas, no Camron. Jay-Z and Beyoncé were spotted backstage but did not perform.
Maybe Hot 97 is retrenching as a true hometown station, looking to promote its own local stars. That was the implicit argument of the festival stage preshow concert, which featured oodles of local comers. The festival stage is where Mr. Rosenberg got into trouble last year he was little heard-from this time and this years lineup, full of wordy New York classicists whose fan bases may be more virtual than actual at the moment, was built in his image.
Mostly, there were temperate performances from the likes of Action Bronson, Joey Badass, Troy Ave and Vinny Chase, but the clear star was the rowdy, growling ASAP Ferg, the ASAP Rocky affiliate whose monstrous, clanging Work is one of the years breakout anthems. With enough energy for a bigger stage, he was as ambitious as anyone who performed in the main show.
Well, maybe not as ambitious as one person. Just before French Montana, the Brooklyn footnote Papoose performed a song, much to everyones confusion. According to Mr. Dardens Twitter feed, Papoose somehow sneaked onstage and took control of the microphone, literally stealing the show. It was apt given the state of Summer Jam: adrift, and anyones for the taking.
The lineup for the 20th edition of Hot 97s Summer Jam seemed like a certain undersell, a curiously superstar-free collection of largely B- and C-listers, rookies and sophomores. No Jay-Z, no Drake, no Lil Wayne, no Nicki Minaj, no Kanye West. It practically screamed, Were hiding our big-name surprise guests!
At least, that would have fit in with Summer Jams legacy. This concert is the annual reckoning of hip-hop hierarchies in the genres birthplace. Its where beefs are often started, and less often settled; where big names bring out even bigger names onstage; where out-of-towners come to earn stripes; and where Hot 97 (WQHT 97.1 FM), which was long the only hip-hop station in town, has flaunted its dominance and clout, which rose with hip-hops commercial fortunes throughout the 1990s and 2000s.
But hip-hop isnt the oligarchy it once was, New York isnt the hub it once was, and Hot 97 isnt the only game in this diminished town. And the station has sometimes set off controversy by becoming part of the drama, not merely an observer.
Thats what happened at last years Summer Jam, when the Hot 97 D.J. Peter Rosenberg maligned one of the pop hits of Ms. Minaj, who was to be a headliner. She refused to perform that night, leading to what became perhaps the highest-profile squabble between a musician and a radio station.
About a week ago, Ms. Minaj sat for an interview with Mr. Rosenberg; the stations program director, Ebro Darden; and others in what was portrayed as a healing of wounds. She apologized for disappointing her fans. Mr. Rosenberg apologized for being bullheaded, or being perceived as bullheaded. Ms. Minaj casually demeaned Mr. Rosenberg. Everyone laughed.
The stage was set, then, for possible closure. At this years Summer Jam on Sunday night at MetLife Stadium in East Rutherford, N.J., streamed live on hot97.com, the thinking went, Ms. Minaj could perhaps perform a surprise set, bring out her label boss, Lil Wayne, and her label mate Drake, and set hip-hop back on its axis, and give this haphazard lineup some direction. (Because of travel constraints, I watched this years show via the live stream, which was mostly reliable if volume-challenged.)
She made no promises, though. That was probably because there was no way Ms. Minaj would cotton to an easy redemption narrative, or allow Hot 97 to profit from her name not yet, at least. She did come onstage midway through the show on Sunday night, during 2 Chainzs set, to perform a pair of songs. Her appearance was radiant and quick, and the reconciliation was terse and unsatisfying; she gave Mr. Rosenberg a brief, affectionless hug as she walked off the stage.
With Ms. Minaj out of the way, and on decidedly unflashy terms, it quickly became clear that Hot 97 had played its ace early: no real help was on the way. What was left wasnt a referendum on hip-hops boundaries, like last years conflict, but maybe an inadvertent one on the scale of its current ambitions.
With no big-budget names to lean on, the show made do with a different caliber of star. 2 Chainz, just two years ago effectively a castoff, was a geyser of anthems and confidence and undoubtedly the most relevant rapper in this lineup. Meek Mill, not on the bill, stole sets from both the uncharacteristically amiable Wale and Fabolous. R&B was represented by the tender Miguel, who was joined by Mariah Carey, and the limber and soulless Chris Brown.
But the tenor of the night was set by the back-to-back sets of ASAP Rocky and Kendrick Lamar, two rising stars who are chipping away at hip-hop maximalism.
ASAP Rocky is an aesthete but not a worldbeater; his charms are restrained. He was energetic, though, and he brought out Bone Thugs-N-Harmony, the great and still-underappreciated Cleveland rappers of the 1990s that he, a New Yorker with open ears, cites as a major influence.
Mr. Lamar is a different kind of star modest-size, with minor-key music who often crawls and rarely overwhelms. He was dominant during his performance, full of confidence that overshadowed his musics fundamental humility. At the end of his set, his crew and ASAP Rockys crew stood at center stage together, staking a claim to victory that was not really challenged.
The nights headliner was the human blend-tape French Montana, the hometown rapper who has made his career slurring over hits from a couple of generations ago. He was joined by Rick Ross and Lil Wayne, but this late blast of star power, just before his set abruptly ended, wasnt enough to save him, or the night.
Summer Jams traditionally blatant hometown affirmative action also meant sets from Joe Budden, lately better known for his reality TV breakdowns than for his music, and the reliable if unexciting Fabolous. It also meant an overlong set by the Wu-Tang Clan, who performed at the first Summer Jam, in 1994, before many in the audience were born.
Summer Jam is ostensibly a party, but it remains allergic to out-of-town artists with beloved breakout hits Ace Hood did perform Bugatti during French Montanas set, but there was no Juicy J for Bandz A Make Her Dance, no Young Scooter for Colombia, no Rocko for U.O.E.N.O. (though Mr. Lamar did perform his devastating remix verse from it). Of the medium-size stars, there was no Young Jeezy, no Future. Of local heroes, there was no Nas, no Camron. Jay-Z and Beyoncé were spotted backstage but did not perform.
Maybe Hot 97 is retrenching as a true hometown station, looking to promote its own local stars. That was the implicit argument of the festival stage preshow concert, which featured oodles of local comers. The festival stage is where Mr. Rosenberg got into trouble last year he was little heard-from this time and this years lineup, full of wordy New York classicists whose fan bases may be more virtual than actual at the moment, was built in his image.
Mostly, there were temperate performances from the likes of Action Bronson, Joey Badass, Troy Ave and Vinny Chase, but the clear star was the rowdy, growling ASAP Ferg, the ASAP Rocky affiliate whose monstrous, clanging Work is one of the years breakout anthems. With enough energy for a bigger stage, he was as ambitious as anyone who performed in the main show.
Well, maybe not as ambitious as one person. Just before French Montana, the Brooklyn footnote Papoose performed a song, much to everyones confusion. According to Mr. Dardens Twitter feed, Papoose somehow sneaked onstage and took control of the microphone, literally stealing the show. It was apt given the state of Summer Jam: adrift, and anyones for the taking.