Hip-hop abides by a legacy system as rigid as ever existed in the Ivy League. It is this system, more than his own talent or merit, that ensures the success of The Game, the newest rapper to be introduced on Dr. Dre’s Aftermath Records imprint.

The Game (born Jayceon Taylor) has a gritty story, a menacing voice, and a scowl to match DMX and Rakim, but his real advantage is the company he keeps. Or, more accurately, the company that keeps him. Just as he did for Snoop Dogg so long ago, and more recently for Eminem and 50 Cent, Dr. Dre is delivering The Game to stardom, not nominating him for it.

To that end, all the producers on The Game’s debut album “Documentary” are top-flight (Dre, Kanye West, Timbaland, Just Blaze). So are the guest MCs – Eminem, 50 Cent, Busta Rhymes, Tony Yayo – who appear on almost every track. The idea, of course, is that all this star power will rub off on him. Instead, it only serves to highlight his shortcomings. The Game is consistently upstaged by 50 Cent, himself no lyrical genius, and gets lost in the parade of marquee names. The image you’re left with is less a rookie holding his own in an all-star lineup than a helpless cub surrounded by doting lionesses.

Aftermath is marketing The Game as the second coming of West Coast gangsta rap (maybe third or fourth coming if you count the D.O.C. and Snoop Dogg). He’s a former gang banger from Compton, and has N.W.A. written all over him – literally, as the letters are tattooed on his chest and Eazy-E’s face appears on his right forearm. But he lacks the skill, personality, or humor of his forbears.

Thanks mostly to his collaborators, there are some nice moments on the album. Dre works magic with a couple of piano chords and a flurry of strings on “Higher.” And “No More Fun and Games,” produced by Just Blaze, recaptures the dense, propulsive funk of classic N.W.A. songs – even if it has to sample one to do it (“Gangsta, Gangsta”).

But, then, questions of originality and deserts miss the point. As The Game says: “how could I not sell a million when I’m rappin’ on Dre hits / and spitting that classic L.A. N.W.A. s-t.”

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In his 10-year career recording as Bright Eyes, Conor Oberst’s sound has traveled roughly a straight line: from the ragged and enraged acoustic songs of the 13-year-old boy genius, to the almost baroque rock of his 2002 album “Lifted.” Now 24,his music has splintered, producing two distinctly different albums.

“I’m Wide Awake It’s Morning” is a lovely, contemplative, country-tinged affair, featuring three duets with Emmylou Harris (a collaboration that calls to mind Jack White recent work with Loretta Lynn).The songs are a leap in sophistication, with surprising touch points between the personal and the political. “Old Soul Song (For A New World Order)” ponders the beauty and muddled meaning of a political rally. “Land Locked Blues” evolves from a love letter to a struggle with fame to a “Bowling for Columbine” like commentary on violence that connects the neighborhood boy pointing his stick like a gun in the street to the violence of a televised war half a world away.

The second album, “Digital Ash in a Digital Urn,” couldn’t be more different. The idiom here is electronica, no doubt inspired in part by the indie-tronic success of Postal Service. Oberst’s voice and garrulousness don’t lend themselves as readily as Ben Gibbard’s to the clicking, plinking, swooning, bleating bed of sound. But for those willing to dig around a little, there are lots of postmodern lyrical gems: “but once the satellite’s deceased/it blows like garbage through the streets/of the night sky, to infinity.”

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For some, famous relatives are a leg up; for others, a handicap. It’s unclear yet how they’ll affect the career of Martha Wainwright, daughter of Loudon Wainwright III and Kate McGarrigle, and sister to Rufus. For the time being, she’s still grinding it out in tiny New York clubs, though not for lack of talent. If anything, her talent may just be too varied. On her forthcoming Rounder Records release with the unprintable title, she’s alternately girlish, jazzy, and foul-mouthed. Experience her many incarnations during the Live From Home benefit concert series this Friday starting at 7 p.m.

Bright Eyes at the Town Hall on January 25 & 26 (123 W. 43rd Street, between Broadway and Sixth Avenue, 212-997-1003).

“Live From Home” on January 21 (Housing Works Used Book Cafe, 126 Crosby Street, between Houston and Prince Streets, 212-334-3324).