Until early this year, North Carolina emcee Phonte (Little Brother) and Dutch beatmaking sensation Nicolay had never met, or even spoke on the phone. Making their acquaintance on the webboards at Okayplayer, the two took The Postal Service's album-by-correspondence technique to heart: Nicolay instant messaged beats to Phonte, who dropped verses, and then the Holland native mastered the product. The result, Connected, is a sweltering, improbable 14-track symphony teeming with potent lyricism and subtle, lustrous rhythmatics.
In today's hip-hop landscape, the organic and emotive qualities of classic soul are often bastardized (cf. Jagged Edge) but rarely duplicated. To wit: In its Hit Factory days, Motown churned out classics faster than Beanie Sigel garners arrest warrants. So either Nicolay is a musical genius who simply understands the language of classic R&B; better than most stateside producers, or a Stax Records jetliner crashed in the Netherlands, spilling thousands of LPs on his thatched abode when he was a toe-tapping toddler.
"The Foreign Exchange Title Theme" kicks Connected off with a syncopated harmony, while the welcoming voice of D.C.'s YahZarah wafts, "Thank you for the music, thank you for right now." That "right now" bit is telling, too, as the record revels in the glory of the moment: Urgent, immediate, instant gratification is one of Connected's calling cards. "Nic's Groove", for example, is equipped with sleepy brass, delicious harmonies and a booming bassline. It's like standing in the street during 5 minutes of the dopest house party you weren't invited to-- and when you dare to peek in the window, Nicolay hits his apex on "The Answer", bowling the crowd over with an ephemeral thunder while Oddisee, Ken Starr, and Phonte rock the crowd, the latter claiming, "I applied for the job of rap nigga, but I was overqualified."
But Connected is more than fluid construction and a unique backstory. Embedded in the layered vocal arrangements and popping rhythms are the seeds of a quiet rebellion. While crews like Mash Out Posse or Cocoa Brovaz may alienate newcomers with the furious intensity of their experiences, The Foreign Exchange delivers their triumphs and tragedies with silky surreptitiousness. Connected reads like the diary of the young, black hip-hop hopeful, as Phonte reminds us of the thousands of struggling MCs who sit in the shadow of The Source. He walks us through his money woes on "Happiness" ("Writing mad checks that might as well have 'Spalding' on them"), his girlfriend's pregnancy on "Be Alright" ("My girl was throwing up this morning/ I pray it was something she ate"), and his parents' disapproval of his life on "All That You Are" ("They can't understand how I feel when I'm on the track board turning the knob switch/ My moms keep talking like get a real job shit").
Despite The Foreign Exchange's transatlantic relationship, the record's stripped-down approach is reminiscent of the days when kids hijacked streetlamps to power their block party turntables. Amazingly, this album seamlessly flows without not only that street-level intimacy but without even the assistance of a shared studio. The result is enough to make the most heartbroken cynics fall in love with independent hip-hop all over again.
