​Nick Nittoli is carving out his proverbial slice of the pie in Los Angeles as a rapper/singer. Garnering writing and production credits, he's been fortunate enough collaborate with Snoop Dogg, French Montana, and YG, among others. He's also battled it out with other emerging artists on the former Bravo reality series, "Platinum Hit." JSaysOnline.com had a brief chat with Nittoli about his work and what he has in store for listeners.
 
How would you describe your artistry?
 
NN: Pretty different than most. I switch genres on almost every track. I am primarily a hip-hop artist; however, I have released country and R&B albums. I also do pop, and will be adding other genres to my resume soon! I like to keep people on their toes to the point that they never know what to expect when turning on a Nick Nittoli song or album. So, I would describe my artistry as eclectic! 
 
What recording artists are your influences? How are you similar or different from them?
 
NN: I am heavily influenced by Michael Jackson, Eminem, 2Pac, Blink 182, Bush, Nofx, and various others. I think that my music causes social change, and because of that factor, it resembles Eminem and 2pac. I also think that because of how different my music is, it can resemble a lot of different artists all combined into one. I take a bit from all of my influences and kind of make my own thing with it. I think the thing that separates me from these artists is my willingness to experiment, truly dive into different genres, and make people think...keep them guessing as to what's coming next. 

​Album Review.
Overall: Not a promising sign that depth and variation in subject matter and musical style is on the way.
 
Burgeoning artists wait with bated breath for their 'breakout' year, and that was 2019 for Houston rapper Megan Thee Stallion. People were taken with the tenacious confidence that fueled her fiery, unabashedly sexual, and often amusing rhymes. She especially found favor with some for talking about men in the same dismissive manner women are discussed in hip-hop/rap. Her energy is intriguingly equal parts commanding and congenial, drawing listeners further in. Her likability factor is the kind that easily spurs viral hashtags and challenges on social media (ex. #HotGirlSummer and the current #SavageChallenge).
 
That isn’t to say her metal doesn’t need polishing though. Some followers desired to hear vulnerability; a request Megan repeatedly vowed to fulfill with her upcoming debut album (as of now, there are only mixtapes and EPs). A creative weakness that I’ve observed is topical and musical redundancy. There’s a lot riding on a first LP for any artist, much less one with a preliminary mainstream fan-base that has expectations.
 
To hold eager and inquiring minds over, Megan released Suga, yet another EP. It’s also a presumed retort against 1501 Certified Entertainment, a label she’s in a dispute with. It consists of songs she recorded while working on the album. It’s named after one of her three ‘alter-egos.’ On wax, there’s no discernible difference between the ‘personalities.’ This makes the mention of them useless and annoying, but that’s a rant for another day.
 
If the Suga EP is an appetizer, the main course of a full length project may only be mildly satisfying. Lyrically, Megan mostly sticks to what’s made her popular so far. She tries to respond to pleas for depth and content diversity, but just goes slightly beneath the surface. You get the sense that she’s not totally comfortable with it yet. The unconvincing and awkward “What I Need” is proof of that. It’s no wonder it was shoved to the end of the tracklist, as it contradicts Megan’s detached attitude about romantic relationships on previous songs. Further, it’s conceding and self-deprecating. She begs for the forgiveness of a love interest, and frames herself as erratic and emotionally unstable.

​Album Review.
Likes: The Story of O.J., Smile
Overall: Jay-Z's reflective, vintage-ambiance album may reveal more about him than he intended
 
"Can you still be a rapper at 50-years-old?," my father asked in reference to hip-hop paragon Jay-Z, who'll be 48 in a few months. I said "Given that rap is young in comparison to the other genres, there's not a precedent for what would be odd in regard to age." Jay-Z's laid the groundwork for many things in his career; now, he shows what it looks like to still be thriving in a "young man's game" on the cusp of a golden anniversary with his 13th album, 4:44. Developmental psychology submits that the late 40's to early 60's is a time of reflection that often leads to self-loathing, a "midlife-crisis" and/or a needling desire to contribute to the next generation. 4:44 seems to be the "middle-adulthood" stage on wax. Jay-Z mulls over his egomaniacal ways, marital transgressions and hinky friendships (ex. "Kill Jay-Z," "Bam," and the title track). Cuts like "The Story of O.J." and "Family Feud" discuss the perils of cultural dissension, and urge for communal wealth as an attack on generational poverty. In respect to the music industry, he implores his fellow artists not to depend on the suits. Taking no prisoners, he mentions several handlers and executives by name. The most striking exclaim is at Prince's estate lawyer, Londell McMillan, whom Jay-Z scathingly accuses of exploitation (i.e. "Caught Their Eyes").
 
Also on "O.J." and "Feud," Jay-Z expresses his discomfort with being ridiculed and rejected by those he calls himself guiding. In the past, these kinds of sentiments were packaged with glamorous retorting braggadocio. Here, the reserved delivery insinuates a genuine hurt. Yet, there's still a hint of self-righteousness that makes you ask "Can you take yourself off of the cross? We need the wood." On "Smile," he raps: "God sent me to break the chain...N*ggas will rip your sh*t off TIDAL just to spite you; Ahh what did I do, except try to free you? N*ggas will love you, but hate you 'cause they can't be you."

​The hint becomes a flagrant musk on "Moonlight." Lines encouraging wiser business choices and a collective effort to revitalize and re-authenticate rap, collide with those of condescension. "Moonlight" follows the Damian Marley-featured "Bam," which marks a meaningful turn on the album. Jay-Z declares "F*ck all this pretty Shawn Carter sh*t, n*gga, Hov! Shawn was on that gospel shit...sometimes you need your ego." He feverishly renounces his previous presence and regresses to the persona he vowed to "Kill" on the opening track. Moments later, he merrily reminisces about his street days on "Marcy Me." It's like he got antsy, anxious and uncomfortable in the realm of culpability, so he hardened back to a familiar devil. Considering this and his age at the time of the boneheaded incidents he cites, what seems like "midlife on wax" is actually an accidental illustration of the outcomes of extended adolescence.
 
Musically, Jay-Z's records are usually bombastic, theatrical and saucy. 4:44 is arguably distinctive, as it has an understated and composed quality. Principal producer Ernest "No I.D." Wilson reportedly stated that many of the samples used were from Jay-Z's current playlist. Most of them are from the 1960's and 1970's and are stylistically diverse: progressive and psychedelic rock, jazz, funk, soul, reggae and gospel. The selections are at the forefront and allowed to retain their personality, cementing the album's warm, accessible and vintage feel. This also helps set the mood for revelation.
 
Though 4:44 is only 37 minutes, you feel like you've covered a lot of land. It may not be particularly catchy, but it's antique and content keep you in place.

​Album Review by Omri Hophra, Contributing Writer
Likes: DNA, Element, Loyalty
Overall: Kendrick did it again: he’s carved his own lane and blazing through it. Lyrical proficiency, solid production.
 
Kendrick Lamar's fourth studio LP couldn’t be more appropriately named, as DAMN is all that’s left to say after hearing it. From the opening introduction ("Blood"), it's obvious this album is offering to take its listener for a ride. The preamble presents two ultimatums of choosing wickedness or weakness, and life or death. Lamar tells a startling story of trying to help a blind woman find what she is missing, only to find that what's lost is his life when she shoots him.
 
What follows can best be described as a blend of the themes that made Lamar's previous records so compelling. The socio-political threads of To Pimp a Butterfly (ex. injustice, racism, religion and culture) are met with the personal "a day in the life" keynotes of Good Kid, M.A.A.D City to explain the effect of one on the other, and this time, detail a whole life in a day (or a 14 track album). Lamar pours himself out with vulnerability, expressing insecurity, paranoia and anger. Needless to say, the conceptual and musical tones are melancholy. Even the lighter fare is tortured. The production work of Bēkon, Sounwave and Mike Will Made It (among others) serve to draw attention to Lamar's versatility with vocal delivery and lyricism, as he matches the quick rhythmic changes and moods. The analogies, metaphors and symbolism he utilizes to paint his pictures are enough to send any sapiosexual for a cold shower. Older millennials will feel nostalgic when they hear the call backs to Juveniles "Ha" (i.e. "Element"), Ol' Dirty Bastard's "Shimmy Shimmy Ya" (i.e. "Loyalty") and the OutKast-esque "Lust." Throwback and classic samples (DAMN.'s include James Brown and Earth, Wind & Fire) are standard on rap albums, which is part of why "Element" and "Loyalty" stick out for their contemporary characteristics. "Element's" hook seems intentionally Drake-like, while the hypnotic and dopamine-activating "Loyalty" (featuring Rihanna) takes from Bruno Mars' "24K Magic." These cuts are highlights, along with "DNA," that opens with Lamar addressing his haters on FOXNews with chastisement they're likely too obtuse to understand. Though some moments are particularly bright, there's zero fat on this record. It closes with gunfire, coming back to the shooting in "Blood." This signals that the entire body of work you've just heard was Lamar's life flashing before his eyes before he dies. DAMN!
 
In an era where most rappers are just aiming for a hot single, many believe hip-hop is dead. DAMN. will send people back to the genre to check for a pulse. It's not of bravado and braggadocio. Kendrick Lamar is an artist connecting to his fans without ever having to meet them. It's plain refreshing to see a rapper dumping his mind, heart and soul into his art instead of a false persona.

Rock&Rant-Quick rants about music.
By Eddie J., Contributing Writer

So, anytime a hip-hop/rap or R&B artist who may or may not have some kind of credibility as a lyricist releases a new record, these click-bait "X Amount of Writers are Credited on ____'s New Album" articles always seem to pop up. The purpose is usually to subliminally invalidate the artist's skill-set and fuel debates on whether they're talented or not. It's been done with Kanye West (The Life of Pablo had 103 writers), Beyoncé (Lemonade=72 writers) and now Drake (Views=81 writers). That sounds like a lot of Pablos, views and gallons of lemonade, but hold up! There's a little technicality to be mindful of. Not even half of the individuals listed did any literal writing. To be honest, I wouldn't be surprised if no more than 10 people actually assisted. Let me explain...
 
Often in hip-hop/rap and R&B, there's this cute thing called sampling that happens, where portions of a song by someone else are mixed in. When this is done, the song and its original writers typically have to be cited for legality's sake (e.g., "This song contains replayed elements from 'You Tried It' by Tamar Braxton"). Those few of us who still buy physical copies (and read liner notes) and others who frequent Wikipedia, see these sample lists. The remaining majority who don't are prime takers of the click-bait and pass it along to the other fish that such and such artist doesn't write their own rhymes or can't stand on their own.
 
Take Drake's "U with Me" (featured on Views) for example. It contains samples of "What These B*tches Want" and an interpolation of "How's It Goin' Down," both by DMX. Breaking this down, "What These B*ches Want" was written by Earl Simmons (DMX's real name), Mark Andrews, Tamir Ruffin and Phillip Weatherspoon. "How's It Goin Down" was written by DMX and Anthony Fields. When you remove those names from "U With Me" in the credits, you have only Drake, PARTYNEXTDOOR, Dave Goode and the producers: 40, Kanye West, DJ Dahi, AxlFolie and Vinylz. 13 writers just went down 8.
 
This brings me to my next point: also in hip-hop music, producers are almost always included as songwriters in the notes. This is probably in part to how hands-on producers are in creating the music or melodic ideas the artist uses. Taking into account how limited credits are in showing the true extent of each person's contribution, a "producer" can be a composer, someone who programmed the drums, or made with the chorus melody that the song was developed around. In that case, it makes sense to consider this kind of work "writing." However, this doesn't mean that Drake, Nicki Minaj or Kanye West are sitting in a room full of 10 other people taking different bits and pieces of lyrics to make a song. These times are occasional, and rarely involve more than 2 or 3 people tops, which is the average amount of writers on a song in any genre.
 
Finally, some rappers are simply best at their primary job of rapping and need to bring in help for choruses, hooks and catchy moments in their verses. Just because one can receive points on a song for doing this, it doesn't mean the artist they worked for is lacking talent or capability. It's assumed that hooks are easy to form, but it requires a particular skill. It's fairly uncommon in the realm of hip-hop/rap that artists can come up with great hooks naturally because their focus is choosing a topic, inventively approaching said topic, punch-lines, voice inflections/delivery, rhyme structure/pattern and verse variation. It may take a village for your favorite song or album to be made, but that never has anything to do with how good or bad the artist is at lyricism or overall. So feel free to take this red pill with a tall glass of lemonade, and enjoy the views.

Album Review.
Favorites: All Things Go, The Crying Game, Feeling Myself, Bed of Lies, Truffle Butter
Dislikes: Big Daddy
Overall:  Her best work; incredibly revealing and aggressive, appeals to all her fan types

When I heard that Nicki Minaj would be naming her new LP The Pink Print, after the heavily-worshipped 2001 The Blueprint by the heavily-worshipped Jay-Z, I worried that it was a little premature. She accomplished much in a short time, but still was only on her 3rd album. Plus, after the very novel “Anaconda,” that glamorized sleeping around with drug dealers for their money instead of seeking independent success (which contradicts what she represents and touts), I anxiously crossed my fingers that the album would live up to its namesake. If it did, it would be symbolically monumental for female rap. Not only does The Pink Print meet its tall order, it’s Minaj’s best…and maybe 1 of 2014’s best. The most beloved records are those that force listeners to drop their facades and unmask their inner Boogie Man; after all, the primary reason we listen to music and invest so much into an artist is because they carry our stories. It’s nearly impossible to not, as the kids say, “get in your feelings,” as Minaj grants us access to the most shielded parts of her heart and life. On the opening track alone (“All Things Go”) she raps about avoiding inauthentic vipers, an engagement that never progressed to a marriage, the murder of her cousin, feeling that she’s neglected her family in working and an abortion or miscarriage at age 16. This amount of disclosure is astonishing from a notoriously private woman whose image has been systematically built on being an everlasting enigma. To give just a hint of this, Minaj told Marie Claire in August 2013 “I don't have a man,” but in discussing the relationship that inspired some of her breakup material with New York’s 105.1’s Angie Martinez, she says she hadn’t been in single in 15 years (2 consecutive relationships; the latter a 10 year courtship).

Riddle no more; behind the playful eccentricities is a woman unsettled and interrupted. Her romantic profile here is a toss of dark, longing, wounded and fearful. She expresses desiring and fearing love all at the same time, pretending to be detached for self-preservation (ex. “I Lied,” “Buy a Heart” ), grieving a love untangling (ex. “Put You in Room”) and the lethal combination of hurt and rage after betrayal, usage and abuses (ex. “Mona Lisa,” “Bed of Lies”). To me, “The Crying Game” (starring the smoldering vocals of Jessie Ware) was the most striking and startling of the heartbreak hotel set, citing an environment of intravenous drugs and flying tempers turned physical that left me wondering how literal the metaphors actually were. References to substances are thickly applied throughout the album, from sexual analogies, to depictions of recreational and coping mechanism use. This prompts concern about Minaj’s health, especially when she confessed to “contemplating overdosing” on “Lies.” “Crying” also carried another common thread: guilt. Minaj seems to blame herself and her career pursuits for the failures of and shortcomings in her interpersonal relationships, as heard on “Go,” “Lied,” and “Heart.” Shifts in her bonds are burdening on her spirit, as she frequently harps on loyalty, or the lack thereof (ex. “Pills N Potions,” “Shanghai”).

While on the daytime talk-show “The Real” (December 19), Minaj encouraged listeners not to skip through tracks so they won’t miss the story she was trying to tell. I understand her point, as certain songs have a completely different feel outside of their track listing. For instance, “Get on Your Knees” with Ariana Grande is simply a cunnilingus carol (a little holiday humor) by itself, but within context, she is trying to regain some sort of control and escape reality by entering ecstasy. It’s almost uncomfortable seeing Minaj in such a vulnerable setting, given her usual bold presence. Don’t mistake it though; Wonder Woman may have feels, but she’s still a superhero. Minaj transitions in and out of sentimentality throwing bows. As Jay-Z was on The Blueprint 3, Minaj is a tad pissed that she’s regarded as if she’s achieved nothing and that no one’s presented formidable competition (ex. “Want Some More,” “Win Again.”) She goes on to accuse her opponents of mimicking her and doing the same things they criticize her for, trying to come up. She defends her position that, contrary to constant assertion, she is indeed skilled in flow and at penning rhymes. There’s been respectable and promising growth in this area. It seems words aren’t in place just for the sake of rhyming as much and the punch-lines are less silly, more relevant and connected, versus coming out of nowhere. I chuckle every time I hear “I don’t duck nobody, but tape. That was a setup for a punch-line on duct tape” on “Only” because she appears to be poking fun at randomness (it’s rumored the line is a jab at Iggy Azalea’s alleged sex-tape). Her schemes and patterns aren’t as predictable either and are sometimes heterodox, although she repeats some analogies (namely elements of winter to her jeweled duds). She also has a couple of enjoyable Twista-like, speeding moments (ex. “Feeling Myself” featuring Beyonce`). With her singing, she shocks (in a good way) on “Grand Piano” with lucidity, control and a bit of muscle. Normally, there’s mousiness and too much vibrato. Minaj tweeted that the song is 1 of the record’s most emotional. Knowing it’s so close to her makes me feel like a prick for typing the following, but the “so beautiful you could cry” music is far more afflictive than the words that read straight from the “You Played Me like an Instrument” lyric manual. “Piano” is also 1 of the few songs with any overt non-drum instrumentation. The Pink Print isn’t half as melodic as Minaj’s freshman Pink Friday; there are throbbing and stomping beats everywhere and lots of trap hip-hop. The slickest (and sexiest) furrow is “Favorite” with Jeremih. Musicality is definitely missed, but the production fits Print’s overcast, violent and aggressive personality.

Rock & Rant-When I need to quickly rant about music.

In November 2012, I did a “Rock&Rant” marking my observation that the genre of R&B as we knew it had fallen into a dangerous, uninspired extinction ozone, merely hinting at potential causes. I left the article open because I wanted to hear everyone else’s thoughts, but after reading “Why Has R&B Become So Misogynistic?”  by Vibe’s Michael Arceneaux and listening to the R&B farce that was Trey Songz’s  new album, Trigga (see my review here), I’m ready to name the culprit: hip-hop. Hip-hop music (inadvertently) killed R&B.

In the late 1990’s and early 2000’s, hip-hop was establishing itself as the pop music of America and began to leave its mark with other genres. Even country music had to get a taste (ex. Trace Adkins “Honky Tonk Badonkadonk”). Once hip-hop emerged (originating in the 1980’s), it wasn’t long before R&B was synonymous with it, mainly because of color-coding and racism. In spite of this, R&B long maintained its own distinction, but on the way to Oz, it got lost. Other genres that trendily attached hip-hop sustained their genesis and foundation, but mainstream R&B eventually allowed theirs to nearly collapse. These days, you almost can’t tell the difference between an R&B and hip-hop hit: every other song has a rap verse and, increasingly, the harder-driven rhythms, abrasive language and content, misogyny and incensed detachment often heard in hip-hop are becoming common threads in R&B; a genre once characterized by seductively smooth, bluesy and soulful sensuality. The shift I’m describing is lucidly exemplified on the aforementioned Trey Songz record. By the end of it, I yelled “This is not R&B!!” The definitive “I love you more than life itself,” “haven’t been able to sleep since you left” and “close the door and let’s revel in our passion” statements were replaced with  “These hoes going to do what they want…F*** them all the time, but you know I never wife them…I swear these hoes trifling (that’s not an affronting double standard at all),” “If you ain’t the type of b**** talking about relationships, hit me up on that late night s***,” “All we do is f***, drink and sleep” and violent sexual analogies. I thought R&B was supposed to be enticing. I thought R&B was the home of baby-makers, begging pleas, broken moments and wedding playlist jams.

R&B has died and its fan support is wavering because it has isolated its audience and forfeited its personality, charm and quality and become a watered down sub-genus of hip-hop. It’s unrecognizable. It doesn’t know what it is anymore. How can you speak when you have no voice? Some might argue that like any other genre, R&B has various stylistic periods and this is just another phase. The concerning difference, however, is that this phase has too much likeness to an already existing base. Strip it down and the only thing that makes it R&B is that it’s sung. As a fan, it bothers (and surprises) me that I can’t get through even a Kelly Rowland album without hearing multiple expletives, and it’s not even from a featured rapper! Charting top 5 songs have f*** right in the chorus. The sexual representations are tacky, impulsive and lack craft and wit. Sex is now a means to an individually hedonistic end. Further signifying the identity crisis is that even the modern break-offs are fairly bereft of R&B. The burgeoning “Alternative R&B” (AKA PBR&B and Futuristic R&B; ex. Frank Ocean) has thoughtful and tender lyrics, but no musical traits of “rhythm and blues,” and computerized and electronic effects. It’s arguably only branded as R&B because the artists are predominately black, which goes back to color-coding.

Don’t get me wrong, hip-hop has its value and I’m all for genre-mixing: it brings communities together and exposes people to styles they may not have listened to before. This outcome is most likely to occur though when there’s a balance and each side stays true to its defining basis. These “Hoes Ain’t Loyal.”

Rock & Rant-When I need to quickly rant about music.

Okay, so my friend calls me frantic saying, “You’ve got to hear this Kendrick Lamar verse! He woke up hip-hop! He’s claiming to be the king of New York and he’s from the west coast!” I quickly rolled my eyes and scoffed, “How is that waking up hip-hop? And so what if he claims to be the king of anything? He’s a newbie; we all know he’s not.” My friend wasn’t the only one whose world was apparently paused by Lamar’s feature on Big Sean’s “Control.” Social media exploded. Everyone kept saying to me “Just listen to it. You’ll feel differently, you’ll understand.” Finally putting the track through my ears, I was even more apathetic and annoyed than before. This was big hip-hop news?! Were we so bored with music that a rapper simply bragging and igniting yet another childish and unnecessary beef (namely with his contemporaries like Drake, J.Cole & ASAP Rocky, to call a few) was all the rage? It was gimmicky as hell, but I guess that was the point because it worked. People fell out and gave him credit he really didn’t deserve. The lines surrounding the disses were even less impressive, with use of the oldest street adage (“I don’t smoke crack, mother f*****, I sell it!”) and repeated concepts reworded. I saw a comment online that read “If he’s claiming to be the King of New York, Jay-Z & Nas should feel threatened.” What for? Artists like Jay-Z and Nas won’t care because they’ve already made history. Watch the throne; their initials are etched in the chair. To quote Shawn Carter directly, “I’m a Warhol already.” The newer acts Lamar mentioned shouldn’t feel threatened either because they arrived first; a few with endorsements from older heavyweights. So….

My latest videoblog about the entertainment industry and its impact on our society.