Nelly Furtado has always been one of my favorite artists, and her newest album, “Loose” only furthers my faith in her. (I still listen to “Say It Right” at least once a day.) I was actually thinking to myself how on top of the game rap producer Timbaland (who produced Nelly’s album) is. Pretty much every song he makes for an artist that gets released as a single blows up like crazy. The new Justin Timberlake album is proof – the thing’s a pop masterpiece. However, something I ran across the other day made me think about the whole “producer” thing. There are tons of good musicians out there – why do we only listen to a portion of them? And who gets to say that just because someone’s popular that their style is what we should be listening to?
Maybe it’s because of things like this:
“For those of you have that haven't been following the case of Timbaland vs. Finland, here's a summary: In 2000, a Finnish musician named Janne Suni created an instrumental track called "Acidjazzed Evening"; it was later remade by instrumentalist GRG, who kept the melody intact.
Six years later, Nelly Furtado released Loose, which included the Timbaland-produced track "Do It," and now there's a series of YouTube videos and forum threads claiming that Timbo jacked the "Do It" music from Sunni's 2000 original (the Timbo detractors also claim that he first jacked himself, noting that his track for "Do It" originally appeared in a 2005 ringtone).”
Here’s another, about the 2005 ringtone:
Wash Bar last night was so insane. Colin, Kim, Caroline, Hendo and I opened up the dance floor. It was hilarious – everyone was standing around, too afraid to be the only people on it, and I just started yelling, “let’s do this thing” and made a break for it. Shortly afterward, everyone else started dancing. Diana not only dropped her SLVR in the toilet, but she walked out in front of a car on purpose, who decided not to stop until he was about 5 feet from her. Kim and Diana ended up leaving us at the bar after hopping in a car with some dudes, so I proceeded to send Kim threatening text messages such as “Order me a fucking pizza or I will eat your fucking face. For real” and “You guys are dead meat.” When we got home, I was on the warpath, and decided it would be a really good idea to wrestle Kim. You know it’s a good night when you wake up with scratches on your neck and chips in your bra, right? Right?
I was speaking French in my dreams last night… so awesome.
Ok, well I’ve been at work for about 2 and a half hours and have done absolutely no real work.
