Recipe for Success
This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.

For today’s name-brand rappers, putting together an album is more like producing a feature film than starring in one. Among the myriad decisions they have to make are what producers and individual beats to use, what cast of guest artists to involve, and who should direct the videos. Writing rhymes is the least of their concerns.
Missy Elliott’s skill lies in these “vision” questions, rather than her lyrical voice. You come away from her albums admiring her taste as much as her talent. For her past work, a significant part of the credit must be shared with producer Timbaland; his futuristic beats did a lot to establish her as mainstream hip hop’s leading avant-gardist. But on “The Cookbook,” her fifth album, she shows that her vision is uniquely her own.
Timbaland makes an appearance, but only contributes two tracks, including the excellent opening song, “Joy.” It’s actually three songs in one: It begins with a breathy, morsecode-minimalism for Missy’s verses, goes through a molasses-slow, screwed transition, then becomes a trunk-rattling bass anthem behind Houston rapper Mike Jones.
From there, the album evolves in all sorts of unexpected directions as Missy takes full advantage of the freedom afforded her by the open producer slot. And while the overall quality isn’t as high as with Timbaland at the controls, the best songs justify the change.
The Neptunes-produced “On and On” features one of the most radical beats in pop music to date. It’s defined by two opposing sounds: a series of anti-gravity water drips on the high end, and a menacing, lurking, synth-y bass line on the low end.
In addition to showcasing the evolving talents of such familiar names, the album provides a breakout opportunity for lesser-known beat makers.
Warryn Campbell – best-known for his work with gospel artists – supplies a bouncy, trombone-sampling R &B tune for the mostly-sung “Teary Eyed.” “Bad Man,” produced by Craig X. Brockman, is a black fraternity stepping contest overlaid on the “Jaws” theme song. And on-the-verge Dirty South producer Sondrae “Mr. Bangladesh” Crawford provides a typically synth-heavy dystopic crunk beat for the song “Click Clack.” Missy adapts easily to the changing soundscape, altering her mood – sometimes even her accent – to suit the needs of the songs.
The standout track, however, comes from Missy herself. “Lose Control,” the first single from the album, suggests she’s learned a thing or two from watching Timbaland and Pharrell at work. The song is propelled by beam-me-up tinkling notes, handclaps, and booming bass. “Hypnotic, robotic, this thing will rock your bodies / … systematic, ecstatic, this hit be automatic,” says Missy, describing her own construction. With appearances by Crunk & B princess Ciara and hype man Fat Man Scoop, it’s too compellingly strange to be anything but a hit.
Missy takes the same catholic approach to vocal collaborators. Her choices show she’s got one eye on the past and the other on the future; she holds no truck with the present. On two old-school jams, “Irresistible Delicious” and “My Struggles,” Missy resurrects familiar voices from the early 1990s: Slick Rick and Grand Puba.
By the album’s end, however, she casts her lot with hip-hop’s multicultural future. “Bad Man” features verses by up-and-coming dancehall MC Vybez Cartel and London-byway-of-Sri-Lanka sass-rapper M.I.A. Neither has enough room to really stretch out, but their presence alone is a powerful endorsement. Then again, the halo effect works both ways: they reinforce Missy’s cutting-edge status even as she elevates theirs.
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Seattle’s Luke Temple is a bright voiced, bright-eyed singer-songwriter with more talent and ideas than he quite knows what to do with. He has a lovely, confidently controlled falsetto with little quivers that call to mind a less-dynamic Jeff Buckley, and an easy way with lyrics – when he doesn’t try too hard.
Friday’s show at the Mercury Lounge – played with a three-piece backing band to a half-full but enthusiastic room – kicked off a month-long tour in support of his debut album “Hold a Match for a Gasoline World” (Mill Pond Records). There were as many styles as there were songs. “Make Right With You” was a Nick Drake-worthy fingerpicker tune that finds him making amends – or talking about it anyway – with a spurned lover, mankind, and God. The melancholy tones and breathy natural voice on “Old New York” sounded like Elliott Smith (particularly so on the self harmonizing album version). Elsewhere, the liquid keyboards and minor tones were reminiscent of “The Bends”-era Radiohead.
But Temple’s talent may be too versatile: It sometimes leads him astray. Lines like “somewhere, someone said / The trees have eyes and rocks have legs / And we have monsters in our heads” drew the whimsical, carnivalesque “Somewhere, Somewhere” into Devendra Banhart psych-folk territory – not Temple’s strong suit. But this is a quibble. Temple is clearly a capable young songwriter who’s already found his voice. Now he just needs to decide which one to use.