OK, whatever, there's Busta Rhymes, who is not performing, yet still has a sizeable crew in tow. I barely get the phone above my head before Bey's security guard is waving his finger in my face like Dikembe Mutombo. Instead of saying hello like a normal human, I do some weird thirsty shit and whip out my phone faster than a gunslinger in an old west shootout. This is what Moses felt like when he saw the Burning Bush. There is a glowing smile and a low-cut hot pink dress and a pair of legs that beam taller than two redwood trees. Beelining back to the D'Usse lounge, I spot a halo- yes, a fucking halo- coming out of a curtained-off area to the side of it. There's no time, no hope to get a word with anyone. In real life, I'm a big man here, I am surprisingly small, drowning in a sea of music industry elite and branding. It's so crowded that it feels like the entourage's entourage has an entourage. Then add the New York Giants' Victor Cruz, sashaying down the hall, Nike shoebox in tow, with a custom pair of his super-hyped sneakers- the Air Trainer Cruz's- to personally give to Fab. Picture one artist's entourage and multiply by five-that many people are squeezed into one small space. His dressing room is curiously sandwiched between Meek Mill's, Nicki Minaj's, T.I.'s, Fabolous', and Usher's. After two drinks, I locate the boss, Rick Ross. There's only so much to glean in one small room. "This is what Moses felt like when he saw the Burning Bush." Cole protégé Bas ("I go to a lot of EDM festivals and think, why can't rap get it together like this? And then to see it happen-this feels like a hip-hop super fest.") And a longtime Jay Z associate-cum-Roc Nation exec, with bags under his eyes ("Man, I'm just trying to keep my head above water."). These are guys like A$AP Ferg ("I'm big on Tidal, Roc Nation and a lot of movements Jay created… but I still buy my music the old way, off iTunes and stuff like that") There's J. It's incredible.Īs the event revs up, I am the lone writer backstage, sipping a tasty cocktail appropriately called the "Tidal X" (1 ½ parts D'Usse, Jay Z's cognac, 3 parts pineapple juice, a dash of grenadine, topped with sparkling water, lemon, and the air of an A-list green room) and talking to artists who aren't big enough yet to ignore the little people. We're talking Nas, Nicki Minaj, Lil Wayne, T.I., Usher, Damian Marley, Rick Ross, Meek Mill and-the queen herself-Beyonce, all in the house to support this man and this thing that nobody knows if anyone will ever really care about. And when he throws up the signal, his modern music gods descend from hip-hop Mount Olympus. Jay Z isn't in the record business anymore he is the record business.
Better days could be ahead for Tidal.īut real number-crunching isn't factoring in to Tuesday night at the Barclay's.
Dre did little with Beats Music before selling it to Apple. And yet even with Taiwanese tech company HTC "powering" the concert, rumors currently abound about Jay flipping Tidal to Samsung. To have only added another 250,000 subscribers since feels underwhelming, and could be why last week, while testifying in the "Big Pimpin'" sample clearance trial, he forgot he even owned the company at all. A month later, he reported Tidal had over 770,000 paying subscribers. Jay-Z bought the parent company, Aspiro, for $56 million last January and re-launched the service with a splashy, much-maligned press conference in late March. It just eclipsed one million subscribers, so here we are. "What's up with this?" "How you doing with that?" "I heard your new shit." "Send me that record." "We'll link up tomorrow." I am backstage at New York's Barclay's Center, in the throes of pre-show festivities, as Jay Z and his celebrity pals ready to take the stage for Tidal X, a concert celebrating the rap mogul's streaming music service. Photos of musicians and basketball players-would-be icons doing iconic shit in a space that is not quite iconic yet-line the walls. The scent of marijuana wafts up and around a narrow hallway littered with talent wranglers, European models, and persons of interest in the modern day record business.
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