We’ve got a great host and a killer record, all set to go. All we need now is you! Here’s how to join the fun.
Good Morning!
Today we’re talking about Connected by The Foreign Exchange, and how you can talk about the record with other like minded people.
Note: As some of you know, I’m one of the editors for an online music publication called The Riff. Each month, we host an album discussion (via Zoom), and this month’s is coming up this Sunday November 2nd, 4PM EST/1PM PT
To be clear, all credit goes to
Terry Barr and
Scott Fountain who facilitate the meetings, as well as
Backspin Hip-Hop’s Jeffrey Harvey, this month’s host. These guys are doing the heavy lifting.
As you’ll see below, these are low-key affairs; all are welcome! If you want to share some thoughts, that’s awesome. Wanna just sit back & listen? That’s cool, too. Everything you need to know about how to join us is below.
Either way, it’d be better with you there.
Today’s guest post below comes from Harvey himself, who makes a fantastic case for why he picked this record, why it’s the right record for right now, and why you should be there Sunday to hear about it and/or share your thoughts.
KA—
My connection to October/November’s Riff Album of the Month was a culmination of sorts. Or maybe a coronation. It actually came by way of the album after this one in a catalog that offered a template for 21st Century collaboration.
But let’s rewind before we fast forward.
In 1999, producer/The Roots’ drummer ?uestLove and writer Angela Nissel founded Okayplayer as an online hub to connect progressive hip-hop artists with like-minded listeners. As was happening all over the web, a community emerged. The features, reviews, and artist interviews gave the platform its gravitas. But its lifeblood was the message boards.
The boards allowed members to connect with one another. They quickly became a place where everybody knows your username for a particular subset of teens and young adults. This was the crowd more likely to stay up until 3 AM deciphering how Dilla chopped that Rick James sample into sonic witness protection on Common’s “Dooinit” rather than arguing over which sucker MCs Com was firing at. On those message boards, they found their tribe.
Chief among the tribesmen was “Taygravy.” Behind that username lived Phonte Coleman, an aspiring MC from North Carolina who shared tracks from his group, Little Brother, on the boards. In 2002, Little Brother landed a record deal, based at least partly on the internet buzz that began on Okayplayer. When their debut album, The Listening, the following year, it was a seminal moment for the site — the message boards in particular. Though The Listening was released through a tiny indie label and struggled to find retail space on box store shelves, it felt like the moment that Okayplayer’s digital oasis became anchored in something tangible.
When Dutch producer Nicolay began corresponding with Phonte via the boards, he was connecting with a made man. Yet, in the context of the Okay-ecosystem, they were peers. Music lovers. OKPs. Young artists hustling to connect their sounds with open ears. What began as an exchange of beats and ideas between community members blossomed into something unprecedented. It ultimately foreshadowed the future of not only music but 21st-century collaboration.
From Holland, Nicolay sent files to Phonte in Durham via AOL Instant Messenger (RIP AOL). Phonte laid vocals and snail-mailed the files back to Nicolay for post-production. Momentum built, and what began as an experiment became a passion project.
Tay and Lay could have held the lightning in a bottle for themselves. Instead, they opened the bottle and invited their friends to sip. Tay’s Little Brother partner, Big Pooh, features prominently. So does their extended Carlonia-based Justus League crew. But the album also provides a platform for peers from around the U.S. (the Eastern Seaboard, anyway) to whom the duo extended the digital share space — fellow OKP Von Pea (Brooklyn), Critically Acclaimed (DC by way of NYC), Kenn Starr (DC), Oddisee (Maryland).
As a result, the album plays as a collective mission statement for a generation ascending into adulthood at a moment of jarring paradigm shifts and getting by with a whole lot of help from their friends. Want a cheat code to understanding the album’s ethos? Pay close attention to the propulsive fourth track, “Hustle, Hustle”. Here, Phonte seems not only content, but enthusiastic to slide into a supporting role. He sings the hook while Critically Acclaimed’s Quartermaine and C.A.L.I.B.E.R. set the album’s thematic table of navigating the quest for personal fulfillment in the face of mounting responsibilities.
No matter when you entered adulthood, the core themes of defining identity, priorities, and place in the world will likely resonate as a right of passage. The universality of the themes and earnestness with which they’re explored are a big part of why, even at a moment when digital technology was making our relationship to music more transient, this album stuck with its listeners.
The other component of its timelessness is Nicolay’s production. Think the meticulous sonic polish of Steely Dan paired with the enveloping warmth of The Ummah. But where Steely Dan had access to state-of-the-art studios and all-star musicians, Nicolay had a desktop computer and a mini-arsenal of keyboards in a bedroom. If Aja represents the pinnacle of analog-era studio craft, this month’s album was an early beacon of fully realized digital-age craftsmanship.
By the time I formally joined the Okayplayer team as a writer in the late 2000s, the platform had already tipped. OkayOGs like Common, Erykah Badu, and Jill Scott were firmly situated in popular culture. Okayplayer was regularly cited in mainstream media outlets, as established journalists increasingly looked to it as a harbinger of cresting sounds. The signature logo shirts were visible on the streets of major cities worldwide. The Roots would soon become Jimmy Fallon’s house band.
Yet, there was the distinct sense that us second (third?) generation writers had arrived after the true golden years — the moments when a movement was coalescing in real time.
So when I was tapped to write the top-of-fold review for The Foreign Exchange’s 2008 sophomore album, Leave It All Behind, it felt like a connection to the glory days. A link to the era when a website became a community, digital dialog sparked creative collaboration, and a proof-of-concept emerged for 21st-century connection. When my review was “blurbed” for the album’s digital banner ad, it was validation. (I would soon be blurbed for Brooklynati by Von Pea’s group, Tanya Morgan — also formed on the message boards — locking in my Okay bonafides.)
This month, we’re going back to the genesis.
October/November’s Riff Album of the Month is Connected by The Foreign Exchange.
We’ll connect and discuss on Sunday, November 2nd at 4 PM EST, details below.
** A BRIEF LISTENING NOTE: **
The original version consists of 14 tracks, ending with “All That You Are.” Tracks 15–17 were later added as bonus cuts. Feel free to listen, but for the purposes of the discussion, the album is tracks 1–14.
With The Riff Album of the Month Club itself having evolved from digital dialog to virtual community to several in-person meet-ups, it feels like the perfect setting to discuss not only Connected, but the nature of connection in the age of digital anomie.
I hope to see all the regulars, semi-regulars, and irregulars.
For newcomers, joining the community is easy. Simply listen to the album and log into the Zoom call detailed below. You can talk as much or as little as you want and are free to say anything.
This article is not paywalled, so share it freely on social media and elsewhere.
Join Zoom Meeting:
Sunday, November 2nd — 4PM, EST, 1PM PT
https://presby-edu.zoom.us/j/86757328230?pwd=8FAa7oaM5WBWSxsQJnqJw4bR95b2rx.1&jst=2
ID: 86757328230
passcode: S*Lu8jAE
Join by phone
(US) +1 305–224–1968
passcode: 90321014
Kevin Sent 
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