Jake paid him a flat rate up front, and Drake's record label is on the hook for more - totaling an undisclosed four figure amount. He had the Jake/Drake track finished the next morning. You send him a song, he can record a version of it in his studio you won't be able to differentiate from the original. So Drake sent the track back to Jake, the producer, like you would a suit to a tailor.Īgain, Jake outsourced, calling up G Koop, in Oakland, his old piano teacher, who specializes in replays of songs for just this purpose. The music would need to be replayed by studio musicians. Which meant an interpolation of the sample needed to be produced. Based on cost or whatever criteria, Drake's team decided mastering rights weren't necessary to purchase, but publishing rights were. Publishing rights control the song in idea form - if you want to record and sell a cover version, you need a publishing license. Receiving permission from the owner of a song's master rights would allow a musician to use a piece of the original recording essentially, to take a sample of it and put it to work in a different way. There are two kinds of rights tied to each piece of recorded music: master and publishing. Not the musicians, but the owners of the rights. The owners of the rights to the song didn't want to let Drake use it without paying "ridiculous fees," according to Jake. The only problem was clearing the sample. He sent it to Drake, and after years of Drake liking and being ready to use various Jake beats at various times - this time Drake texted him back definitively: wav file for an undisclosed three figure amount, chopped it up, programmed drums and added other sounds, and arranged it into a beat. Jake told me he was liking that sound, and I told him, 'No problem, I got some stuff that you'd be into.'" I know aggressive-sounding vocal harmonies suit hip-hop. They just know I'm going to have the upper echelon they're looking for. "But if a person knows me, or seeks me out, they're already a digger. "There are certain people who feel a way about it," he says. The Record Grind And Shine: Jake One And Thig Natural His service might seem like a cheap shortcut, if you're the purist who thinks producers should do their own record-finding, or maybe play all the instruments on their productions. Some of the bigger producers Brown has sold to include Just Blaze, Q-Tip, Pete Rock, Don Cannon, Questlove, DJ Spinna, Rich Medina and 9th Wonder. But finding gold in some ancient record store basement has become outsourceable. Records still matter in hip-hop despite that recent article in the Atlantic about the death of sampling, it's very much alive. Some people do want the physical record, for collection purposes. But record collecting and selling, that's my thing. I was a hip-hop artist and DJ, and I can still do that. But there aren't that many people who do what I do. "It's not a secret," Brown says on the phone. The sample came from Gene Brown in North Carolina, an independent record collector who combs stores for choice material. But the beat he sent to Drake (whom he met through Twitter, then email, then text, then in person) didn't germinate in his collection. When I ask for a flat surface to take notes on, he hands me a gospel record with a $1 price tag on it - maybe another song in waiting. Jake keeps the secret partly that's because he's old school enough to care about concealing his sample sources, to prevent other producers from copying him partly because he isn't happy with the owners of the rights to the music and doesn't want to give them publicity. He won't name the record and claims it's "not on the Internet, and I don't think you can Shazam it." "There was just something about the dynamic of that band, in that church," says Jake, at home in Seattle front of his ASR-10 sampler and laptop, Crocs on his feet, daughter upstairs watching Dora. And originally it was, ripped from a live gospel album from 1990. What you hear on "Furthest Thing" sounds like a sample from an old record. Then the second half breaks through like sudden sunshine, with loud drums, piano and a choir, and Drake picturing his death: "This the s- I want to go out to / Play this s- at my funeral if they catch me slippin'." The music has a flickering coolness to it. The first half feels like nighttime, with Drake listing things he does "on the low," like mobbin', drinkin', f-in', smokin', schemin' and plottin'. That's the case with the second half of the song "Furthest Thing," one highlight from rap/R&B megastar Drake's new album Nothing Was the Same. In the context of a longplay, its own story is not meant to be lingered on.īut sometimes, there's a tale there - and always a lot more than meets the ear. The journey of a song from farm to table, so to speak, is not something listeners are likely to consider in the course of absorbing an album.
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