Wyclef Jean’s newest album, From the Hut, to the Projects, to the Mansion, is Jean’s self-proclaimed return to hip-hop. Over a decade after the breakup of the Fugees, Jean has admittedly become somewhat unknown as an artist, and it is clear that he is anxious to change this.

Beneath the white-capped surface of Ithaca’s music scene, a whale has been swimming around our campus, gathering steam as it prepares to unleash a torrent of hip-hop innovation the likes of which will flip the space between your ears. A musical collective that combines minds from all of Ithaca’s corners, Time Out Club is more of a harmonious think tank than a group of musicians.

This year’s TIME “100” finalist was nominated for eight Grammy’s in the last two years, has had nine different songs chart on Billboard’s Rhythmic Top 10 and two years ago, in November and December, had seven different singles hit the Billboard Hot 100 list. Can you guess who he is?

It’s T-Pain — the man responsible for bringing back the worst type of Auto-Tune.

Are the muses mad at us? Was it something we said (or sung)? It’s as if they saw us getting complacent with our talented Winehouses, alternative Radioheads and soulful LaBelles and thought to themselves, “Hey, you know what would be fun? Let’s turn all the great singers into drug addicts, kill the King of Pop and add Auto-Tune into the mix.”

On Friday night in a small upstairs room at Appel Commons, Immortal Technique walked on stage with slow, pensive confidence and a T-shirt featuring his own name. He took his place behind the podium and began to speak for the next hour and a half, expounding his views on politics, race and life’s general purpose, followed by a brief performance.

It is not often that a heavy dose of R&B and rap rolls around as a Sunday evening pick-me-up. A keen bunch of weekend concertgoers seized upon this rare opportunity, flocking to a stuffy Barton Hall to dance to three fiery MCs: Mario, Trey Songz and Fabolous. In spite of the Sunday night blues, the show provided enough invigoration to start the new week (or end the weekend) with a bang.

Cornell may not always seem like the hottest place for up-and-coming rappers, but it has plenty of hip-hop history to boast of — not the least of which is True2Life, the trio composed of k. Words ’05, Concise ’05 and Slangston Hughes ’05. The Sun sat down with the crew — who make their own beats — and talked about hawking LPs at RPU, plans for the future and The Pussycat Dolls.

The Sun: How did hip-hop and music play a role in your lives as undergraduates here at Cornell?

Regardless of how you respond to Emmanuel Jal’s documentary War Child, the truth of its footage destroys any debate over its political significance. Once a Sudanese child soldier, Jal has become a figurehead and spokesperson for genocide awareness by sharing his own story with the world. The film splits its time between Jal’s concert tours and seminars (he moonlights as a hip-hope with lyrics inspired by his childhood) and United Nations footage shot about 20-years earlier, prominently featuring a nine-year old Jal in the beginnings of his life as a child soldier.

I love attending dance events that support charity — not because they’re necessarily the best performances I’ve been to, but because they put dance into context. A casual audience member isn’t going to consider the history behind each dance discipline or step, but they can recognize that they’re supporting a great cause. Such an opportunity for dance appreciate occured this past Saturday, when Cornell’s Shadows Dance Troupe presented their annual fall benefit concert in Bailey Hall. All proceeds from the show went to On Site Volunteer Services, a student-run group that promotes community service.

Shadow Dancers: Shadows Dance Troupe performs at the Fall Step 2008 concert in Bailey Hall on Saturday.

Next time you search the Cornell Library catalogue, don’t be surprised if you stumble across names like “Funky Four Plus One” or “The Treacherous Three” alongside “functional analysis” and “trials (treason).” The 8021 range is now home to Kroch Library’s newly acquired Born in the Bronx hip-hop archive, which was inaugurated last weekend with a groundbreaking conference on the origins of hip-hop culture.

Johan Kugelberg, a Swedish music journalist who formerly collected punk memorabilia, began putting the archive together in 1998, when he was introduced to hip-hop by a godson.

“He started bringing over records, and they kicked my ass,” he remembers. “I told my wife, ‘this is what I’m going to be doing for the next 10 years.’”

Nelly’s Brass Knuckles hits hard with that swagger and energy fans expect from the leader of the St. Lunatic family. Backing up his own vocals — and backing up his backup with shouts and chants — Nelly never lets the listener’s ears fall asleep.

Enlisting heavy hitters like LL Cool J, Chuck D and Snoop Dogg, Brass Knuckles runs the gamut of hip-hop history and geography. Nelly gives us the Midwest swang, along with songs like “LA” that sweats West Coast g-funk from the heat of Snoop and Nate Dogg, and “Chill” which sounds like it fell out of a G-Unit album.

Brass Knuckles could have packed a little more punch and a lot more originality. Energetic as he is, Nelly has basically had the same flow since he taught us the correct form of country grammar.