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Many of the major releases slated for May (including UGK and Three Six Mafia) have been shelved. But when all the gorillas in the room can't agree who gets to go next, there's a chance for a talented rookie to slip through.

In this respect, the release of Brooklyn MC Joell Ortiz's The Brick couldn't be better timed. The Brick is a clever, honest, and moving debut from a rapper who's years deep in the game, but only just releasing his first album at the crest of a wave of mixtape and blog buzz. The album is unapologetically focused on showcasing Joell's talents as an MC and a writer, and a couple of the beats end up being little more than utilitarian—bare breaks and piano hooks stretched over 32 bars, making a spare canvas for Ortiz to deliver his stunning couplets.

You can't really fault Ortiz for frontloading the lyrical side, however, as he's got stories to tell, a well-toned flow, and a gift for wordplay that demands repeat listens. Even the portions of the album that seem simple are often just conscious nods to the honest, thoughtful, and gritty tradition of New York MCs that stretches from Rakim to Nas and Jay in their prime. The absolute knockout here is the "125" series, a collection of four tracks sprinkled throughout the album. On these Joell showcases his 718 and Latino pride, doles out nuggets of humor that never compromise his earnest realism, and glances backward to spit dense and reflective bars about the hard distance he's traveled. Taken together, these songs form a mini-opus that's as passionate and compelling as anything heard in NY rap in a while.

While the release date for UGK's album may have been pushed back, Jive can't keep them entirely cooped up. Bun B and Pimp C can be heard on a number of recent singles, including Foxx's "Wipe Me Down" and David Banner's "Suicide Doors". However, the group's tastiest new track is a breadcrumb right off the forthcoming album itself. "International Players Anthem" is pretty much what is says on the box. Andre 3000 leads off this soaring number with a stream-of-consciousness verse, while Bun B and Pimp C follow through in prime form. Crucially, the tune shuffles its anthemic elements for maximum buildup: strings, choir, and horns shift in and out of the mix, while stuttering production tics nod to chopping and screwing.

Dizzee Rascal is also whetting appetites for an upcoming album. The single "Sirens" has him evading cops while dropping punchy, agile verses over a hefty break beat. Dizzee's taught bars pivot over a steady sub-bass throb, heavy guitar licks gradually steal the show. While the track has been courting and earning comparisons to "99 Problems," it's more reminiscent of his rap-rock flirtations with Paul "Phones" Epworth.

The remix of David Banner's "K.O." is surprisingly closer to the warped minimalism of early Dizzee. Banner growls about throwing punches while a crew of sleek synths bob and weave over thudding kick-drum beat. It's a menacing, claustrophobic tribute to violence that somehow manages to be beguiling as well.

In eye-candy news, there's finally a video for "Lip Gloss." Though only 17 years old, Lil Mama has turned so many heads with this insanely addictive sleeper single that's probably liable for mass whiplash. Produced by James Groove, it's been steadily building steam since its release in January. The video amplifies the delightful finger-snapping, hand-clapping, lip-popping sassiness of the single. Mama must conquer her high school cool clique with the help of her favorite cosmetic. But this high school is a retro, candy-colored, and zany wonderland with pop-locking nerds, dance-offs in the gym, and even a tray-juggling routine in the cafeteria. It's a pure bubblegum goodness—a perfect match for the song—and recalls some of Missy Elliot's finest videos.

An altogether more sober video comes from Brother Ali. On "Uncle Sam Goddamn," the Minnesota rapper is backed by a potent funk track, spitting bars of outrage that connect dots between American slavery, war, and poverty to call consciences to account. The video is seemingly shot in super 8, interspersing iconic footage with Ali's sermon-like raps. The grainy quality of the video somehow tempers the song's strident intensity, lending it the unpolished sincerity of a documentary, as well as a whiff of conspiracy.

- Toby Warner
05.11.07