Y'know how Prince occasionally veers toward self-parody, and nobody is sure if it's intentional, so the default response is, "It's still motherfucking Prince, so shut up," and then everybody goes back to enjoying Prince? That's kind of what this is like, except Wes Anderson is not Prince.

Singer/bassist Meshell Ndegeocello hasn't had a hit since her 1994 cover of Van Morrison’s “Wild Night," a duet with John Mellencamp, but she's kept busy and maintained a devoted fanbase with various challenging, genre-spanning projects. With her “Gett Off: Meshell Ndegeocello covers Prince” tour, which arrives at the State Theatre in Falls Church tonight, she gets to be adventurous and populist at the same time.

Ndegeocello, the daughter of still-active local jazz and blues musician Jacques Johnson, grew up in the D.C. area and played with go-go bands Prophecy, Little Bennie and the Masters, and Rare Essence. While those bands are known for doing covers and she’s a longtime Prince fan, she says via e-mail that she never played his songs with those groups. “I guess it was too new to cover? Or maybe I should have,” she writes.

But she did catch him in concert. “I saw him perform in the '80s many times," she writes. "Seeing him come out on stage in a fringe half-shirt and his drawers and be funkier than anyone I had ever seen was maybe the most inspiring thing I've seen.” Ndegeocello, who said in a 2000 interview that her goal was to tour as Prince’s bass player, answered a bit cryptically when I asked if she had ever performed with him. “He's an amazing musician, an amazing player, an unparalleled creator. He wasn't the nicest dude to me.”

But despite that experience—whatever it was—Ndegecello covered Prince’s “Dirty Mind” on her 2009 tour for the album Devil’s Halo, and that inspired her to put together a Prince covers show.  Ndegeocello is touring with the same band she's played with in recent years.  It features guitarist Chris Bruce, who has played with Aaron Neville, Seal, Sheryl Crow and others; drummer Deantoni Parks who has played with the Mars Volta and John Cale; and keyboardist Keith Ciancia, who has worked with Macy Gray, T-Bone Burnett, and Cassandra Wilson. “We did rehearse when we decided to put this together but it wasn't days and days. Just a couple,” she writes.  While the show will likely include “Purple Rain,”  “Little Red Corvette,” and “Pop Life,” Ndegeocello says “I probably have more hidden gems than radio favorites.” At earlier gigs , that meant cuts like "Annie Christian," "Something in the Water (Does Not Compute)," and "Lady Cabdriver."  She also does them her way—sometimes she adds more slap bass and a jam-band feel; while other times she takes a mellow and atmospheric approach.

With New York City and Paris dates set for this tour, Ndegeocello is clearly focused on his royal purple highness, but in May she took her bass to New York where she joined jazz pianist Jason Moran and his band for two nights on a specially commissioned Fats Waller program that mixed 1930s stride-piano stylings with Motown sounds, house accents, and more. But Ndegeocello still has more of her own songs in the works.  “These are just fun projects, interesting collaborations, and opportunities to do different things. I am always working on original material.”

Meshell Ndegocello performs tonight at 8:30 pm at the State Theatre, 220 North Washington Street, Falls Church. (703) 237-0300. $31.

On the Prince-influenced "Love Faces," Raheem's up to his usual tricks, detailing the intricacies of a booty call over a slow, piano-laced melody. Then on the funky "Candy Girl," the vocalist picks up the pace, lending his high-pitched falsetto to a midtempo, guitar-heavy groove.

Jackin for Beats Vol. 2 is DeVaughn's 12th mixtape release. On the first Jackin 4 Beats mixtape—released in November—DeVaughn remixed Kanye West's "Runaway," "Power," and Wacka Flocka Flame's "No Hands," among several other tracks. Go here to download DeVaughn's new mixtape and look out for his fourth studio album, A Place Called Loveland, dropping later this year.

Maimouna Youssef has an artistic vision seasoned well beyond her 26 years—due mainly to her upbringing in a musical household and the time she's spent collaborating with artists like The Roots and Dead Prez.

I interviewed Youssef for last week's One Track Mind column, but I couldn't fit nearly everything in. Here's the rest of our interview—in which Youssef discusses her childhood, attending the Duke Ellington School of the Arts, and how she made it onto the stage at Dave Chappelle's Block Party—in time for her performance tonight at the Kennedy Center.

Washington City Paper: Are you from this area originally?

Maimouna Youssef: I was born in Baltimore and went to Duke Ellington School of the Arts. But I've also lived a lot of places. We moved to Virginia when I was 10 or 11. I was homeschooled, too. When you're homeschooled, you're in your own world [laughs], so you're not always aware of things that happen in your city. That's a good thing, because you are aware of the world. I moved to D.C. when I was 14 to go to Duke Ellington. When I graduated, I moved to New York, then I moved to Philly, then I moved back here.

WCP: Why'd you do so much moving around?

MY: I went to college, starting at the New York Film Academy, then I left. It was just too stressful living in New York. My mom was living in Virginia at the time, but I came back to Baltimore to live with my aunt.

WCP: You went to the Film Academy. Did you know you always wanted to be a singer, or did you want to be a director?

MY: I knew I was gonna be a singer; I've been singing since I was five and my parents had a theater company. At that same time, we had a group called the Circle of Liberation and we would do poetry at different events. My mom trained me as a professional—how to hold the mic and work both sides of the stage, making eye contact, things like that. When I went to Duke Ellington, I was originally in the vocal department, but I didn't like the vocal department. At that time, they wouldn't let us sing or study jazz. And if you wanted to study gospel, you could, but you had to stay after school. We got out of school at like 5 o'clock. Who really wants to stay in school later than that? And where I lived, I was not trying to be on the bus at night.

I didn't get along with the guy who was running the program at that time because he would tell me, "Fix your mouth a different way, you're singing too black." You really have to change your vocal pallete to be able to sing classical music. And if you're trained in that way, it's hard to switch to a gospel-style, R&B-style pallete. So I would sing it a certain way, then we'd go into the spirituals and he was still singing in European style. If we're gonna respect the style of that music, why don't we respect the same style that the spirituals are written in. They were written out of pain, so I felt we should not change our pallete and sing it with the conviction of church. We can't sing it pretty because this is not a pretty situation.

So I was hanging out in the literary department, I talked to the director because I was gonna end up having to leave school because I wouldn't go to class. I talked to the literary department director, who asked "Do you write?" I wrote out some of my rhymes for him and he let me transfer to his department. Once I got there, I really enjoyed it. I did storyboarding and screenplay writing. It kinda goes hand in hand, because even when I listen to my music, I always see the visuals for it. It's a passion that I want to get back to at some point in my life.

WCP: At what point do you think you'll go back to it?

MY: I guess when I have the money for it [laughs]. Kanye did it independently because he didn't want the message to be tampered with. Tyler Perry probably got that a lot, so he had to do it himself—the hard way—because they were trying to alter what he wanted to do.

WCP: Your mom is an accomplished singer. And you've referenced how you didn't get an opportunity to go outside and play, things like that. Do you think that helped or hurt your progression?

MY: I feel like it helped it. It was kinda hard because I always had a social life because I have a lot of brothers and sisters, but I was really focused. There was one point in life when my mother got sick, and I had to finish my senior year living with a friend of the family. I had a 4.0 that year. I think being trained to be focused allowed me to be focused on my own. Even before she left for Virginia, my mother didn't have to be really hard on me because I was already trained to be serious about what I wanted to do.

WCP: What was your experience living in Philly?

MY: That time period characterized a lot of who I am. My son was born in Philly. I met The Roots in a studio that [producer] James Poyser recorded out of. He asked us to come to Electric Lady Studios in New York, where he and Erykah [Badu] were recording Worldwide Underground.

WCP: How did you manage to get on stage at Dave Chappelle's Block Party?

MY: James was performing, he was playing keys there. I remember when Chappelle's Show first came out, everyone would stop recording and would all come to the main lobby area in the studio to watch the show. So everyone was excited when they heard Chappelle was gonna do this. I thought, "I've gotta be there," mainly because Prince was supposed to be there, but he ended up not doing it. When I heard Lauryn Hill was gonna be there, I was like, "Yeah, I'm gonna be there."

Honestly, that was my sole purpose, was to make sure I met her. So I talked to James about it and he was like, "Eh, I'm not really sure. Some heavy-hitters are gonna be there. You're still kinda new in this game." I was good friends at that time with Martin Luther. I had already toured with him and Cody ChesnuTT. So I was talking with Martin about it, and he said, "You should just come through and feel the energy, and I know somebody's gonna ask you to do something." They had a rehearsal the day before, and I came to the rehearsal with him.

At one point, they ordered everyone out that wasn't performing and I waited in the lobby. During a show with Cody and Martin at BB King's, I performed a song that my mother wrote called "Oklahoma Track," and it was totally impromptu. I had the whole audience singing all the background parts. I see stic.man from Dead Prez at the rehearsal and he started singing the track I performed at the show. He asked if I could sing one of their songs. There was such a special energy during that time. Everybody was happy to be in that moment. I thank God that I was a part of that.

WCP: So how did The Roots' relationship come about? Did they approach you because of what you did at the block party?

MY: I knew them already and I had recorded several tracks for them. It was such a passionate thing in the studio. I would just knock on the door and they'd be like, "Listen to this track, do you hear anything?" I'd say, "Yeah, I hear something," and we'd record it. We just lived in the studio. We were there all day and night. I recorded several hooks and "Don't Feel Right" happened to be the one that they chose.

WCP: You were on the block party and you were on The Roots' song. Why are you just now coming out with solo material?

MY: I had a baby then my life had changed so much, so I was waiting for my life to settle back down for me to be able to dedicate my time the way I am now. I've been writing songs the whole time. The songs I wrote then, I don't wanna use now because they don't reflect what my views and my life are like right now. I was also talking to some labels about signing certain deals, but the contracts were not what I needed for me to do my project the way I needed to do it.

It would be a waste for me to not do it the way that my heart says do it. I'm not saying that I know it all, but I know I hear things a certain way and feel things a certain way. I feel like the labels I dealt with, I would've been miscarrying my artistic baby, if I put it inside of this formulaic box before it even got a chance to tell me what it wanted to be.

Youssef performs at 6 p.m. at the Kennedy Center's Millenium Stage, 2700 F St. NW. Free

Prince's music is made of sex. Your first instinct might be to go with his classic '80s repertoire, and that wouldn't be wrong, but 2006's "Black Sweat" is nothing to balk at either. The song is pure lust: The ultra-minimal beat and understated delivery underscore desire without going overboard.

Maybe lesbian robots just aren't what you're into. Then again, maybe they are what you're into. In that case, Bjork's video for "All Is Full of Love" totally has you covered. The surreal song is slow, sensual, some of Bjork's best work, and ought to get the night moving in the right direction.

If there's any rock band in D.C. that is all about setting the mood just right, it's Poor But Sexy. With "Cut That Hair," singer David Brown reminds you to look sharp and get classy. If you want a lover to treat you right, you gotta look good. If you can find a ticket, be sure and catch them opening for The Dismemberment Plan at the 9:30 Club this Saturday. Otherwise, you can catch them tonight at The Galaxy Hut.

Whatever you choose, the weekend will look and probably feel a lot like this:

The Best of Friday:

Cee-Lo Green. American University's Bender Arena. Call for more information. (202) 885-3267

Das Racist. Rock and Roll Hotel. SOLD OUT.

I may be woefully undereducated about rap music, but I'm not entirely sure whether I should trust a few Wesleyan-educated, Coogi-sweater-clad rappers to school me in what rap music looks like today. The post-colonial dream team Das Racist seems to know its stuff, and with hyper-referential, irreverent lyrics, it wants to make sure you do as well. From the group's 2010 Sit Down, Man mixtape, the song "hahahaha jk?"  taunts, "we're not joking, just joking, we are joking, just joking, we're not joking." It's an apt summation of Das Racist's mission to confuse, sanctify, maintain, and deliver.  Questioning if these guys are the real deal is likely, but they're having an awful fun time playing at the fact that they might be. With Ardamus and the Metaphysical, Fat Tony.

The directions are simple: First bring canned goods and whole grain cereals to benefit the punk-rock collective Positive Force and the senior services nonprofit We Are Family. Then you benefit from punk, pop, and rock stylings of Pulling Teeth, Magrudergrind, Give, and Hot Mess. $8/$10.  St. Stephen's Church. 6 p.m.

The Best of Saturday:

Socket Records Showcase: Hume. Skeletons. Buildings. Laughing Man. $12. 9 p.m. doors. Black Cat.

Last time around, faithful retro-soul crooner Eli "Paperboy" Reed squashed his competition, Mayer Hawthorne. He and his band brass-heavy boys, the True Loves, are back. With Spirit Kid and The Shifters. 8:30 doors. $14. Rock and Roll Hotel.

Urban Arias. $15. 7 p.m. & 9 p.m. Artisphere

The Best of Sunday:
Prince vs. Prince: The 10 Year Anniversary. $10/$12. 9 p.m. Black Cat.
Party like it's actually 1985, before Prince disbanded the Revolution and the world was awash in the harmonies of Purple Rain, when Dynasty wouldn't let Billy Dee Williams be great, and Quincy Jones produced super sessions that could change the world.

Funk 4 The Dream: Afrika Bambaataa. Asheru. Fort Knox Five. Jahsonic. Rex Riddem. Mustafa Akbar. $10. 9 p.m. show.U Street Music Hall.

The Rest of Friday:

Vocalist Akua Allrich. 9 p.m. and 11 p.m.  Friday and Saturday. Twins Jazz.
Justin Jones and The Driving Rain. With Jason Isbell and The 400 Unit. $15. 8 p.m. doors. 9:30 Club.
All Good Funk Alliance. Price set at door. 10 p.m. show. 18+. U Street Music Hall.
Musicband. Thee Lexington Arrows. Yell Country. The Bam Bams. $8. Comet Ping Pong.
Truth & Salvage Co. A Thousand Horses. Black Dog Prowl. $10. 9 p.m. show. Red Palace. 18+
The State Department. Vita Ruins. Loose Lips. $10. 9 p.m. show. Black Cat.Practically Einstein. With Zelos and Kindlewood. $10. 9 p.m. Iota Club. Quaman Fowler Quartet. $15/$20. 8:30 p.m. show. Friday and Saturday. Bohemian Caverns.
V0calist Julie Nixon. 8:30 p.m. $34. Friday and Saturday. Artisphere.

The Rest of Saturday:

Virginia Coalition. With Danni Rosner, School of Rock DC. $15. 6 p.m. show. 9:30 Club.
Chopteeth Big Afro Funk Band. 9: p.m. $15. Iota Club. Sleeper Agent Presents: Lo Fi Muay Thai Release Party. Ozker. Reemstar & Navi. $10. Comet Ping Pong.
BSO: Icarus at the Edge of Time. $14 – $88. 8 p.m. Strathmore.

The Rest of Sunday:

Reaction 2011: Susan Morabito. Guy Smith. $35. 10 p.m. show. 9:30 Club.
Eternal Summers. Maybe, Baby. Flourescent Scents. $8. 8:30 p.m. show. All ages. Red Palace.Jean-Paul Bourelly. $15. 7 p.m. show. Bohemian Caverns.

Sy Smith cut her teeth on the local go-go scene before setting out on her own. She traces her social and musical influences to a baptist church on Minnesota Avenue, and her live performances have drawn the likes of Prince and Raphael Saadiq, among others.

But now, the D.C. native has literally gone Hollywood, as she and her new husband now live in the Golden State. When she's not singing or recording music, she teaches an R&B and pop improvisation class at the Los Angeles Music Academy.

Before her concert at the Liv Nightclub tonight, Smith spoke with Arts Desk about the region's music scene, artistic freedom, and Patti LaBelle's influence.

Washington City Paper: What kinds of things do you have in store for the nation’s capital?

Sy Smith: [laughs] I have a live band there in D.C., they’re like my favorite band to play with actually, and they’ll be doing songs from the three CDs that I’ve released. You just never know what will happen, sometimes they’ll just launch into something. If I hear it, and it feels like it’s supposed to happen, I’ll just do it, ya know. You never know what you’re gonna get.

WCP: Because you’re in D.C., will you go more towards go-go/hip-hop? What’s your set list looking like right now?

SS: All the material has a lot of influences. If you’re a little familiar with my music, you’ll hear that stuff anyway, so it’s not like I’ll lean towards it, that’s just what the music is anyway. Some of the songs are very much based in a jazz aesthetic, some of them are based in a more percussion element, it just depends from song to song. Things just kinda take on their own little life.

WCP: I saw that you are a D.C. native. How exactly did this region influence your art?

SS: I always remember this one instance when I was at the Children’s Museum and I saw Junkyard [Band] play. I was a kid, and they were kids. And I was like, “Oh my God, these are kids like me, banging on buckets.” There might have been two actual instruments, and everything else looked like something they got out of their momma’s kitchen, or from an alley somewhere. Seeing something like that when you’re a kid, it actually becomes tangible like, “I can do that.” That was probably one of my earlier times when I said, “Yeah, I think I wanna try that.” I started taking piano lessons early, I studied piano for about 12 years, and then I went off to do the choir circuit in PG County. That was mostly classical stuff. I didn’t start singing contemporary music until college. I remember seeing Patti LaBelle in “Your Arms Are Too Short To Box With God,” and all of those prize performances, concerts at Fort Dupont Park, all of that made it very tangible to me like, “This is something I want to do.” I never thought of it as wanting to be a big superstar, I just wanted to play music.

WCP: When I think of D.C., I definitely think of go-go and hip-hop. I don’t see a lot of soul singers, maybe a handful who I know. How does a soul singer make it out of a town that’s known for go-go and hip-hop?

SS: I don’t really know that I’m a soul singer. I’m just a singer, and whatever happens to come out of that is what people make of it. I’m from that generation where Chuck Brown schooled all of us on jazz. I wouldn’t have had the jazz background, vocabulary and repertoire that I have had it not been for Chuck Brown always playing jazz songs. A lot of us came from that generation, even Essence and those bands were playing and covering Maze and Anita Baker and stuff like that. Even though a lot of the performers were a bit rough around the edges and tried to seem like a more go-go, hip-hop aesthetic from the outside, it was still always coming from a soul or jazz perspective. That’s why Maze can come to DC and sell out, and Patti LaBelle. That was really the aesthetic that people appreciated. It just came in the form of go-go, or the backdrop of go-go, ya know?

WCP: How did your upbringing influence your artistic direction? Was there an ah-ha moment for you?

SS: One of those Patti LaBelle moments was an ah-ha moment. I was at the Warner Theatre for “Your Arms Are Too Short To Box With God.” I was in the front row with my mom. It was the end of the show, a rousing number and [Patti] was running all over the stage, kicking her shoes off and flying and flapping her wings, and she came to me, took my hand and stood me up out my seat, and was singing to me. And that right there? When I saw what somebody can do, just with the power of their voice and their performance, I think that’s when I decided I wanted to be at the very least, some sort of performer. I didn’t really know that I was gonna be a singer, but I definitely knew I wanted to be on stage somewhere and do that —making somebody react the way she made me react. I think I immediately started channeling the performer in myself. I became the kid in class who told stories, and told jokes, not the class clown. I went to this little private school in Southeast, and we didn’t have a gym or anything, so if it rained outside, for recess, we had to just stay in our classroom. On rainy days, it would be, “Get Sy up to tell some jokes. Make us laugh.” Early on, I didn’t consider myself a singer. I knew I was a musician, but I didn’t know I was a singer until way later.

WCP: Do you feel like you influence others the way Patti influenced you?

SS: Ya know what? I’ve had a couple people come to me and say, “Oh my God, I saw you at such and such” and will name a specific show. There have been a couple of singers who have covered my songs at their own shows. I’m like, “Wow, that’s a trip!” or they’ll send me the YouTube, or they’ll send me the DVD or something like that. That’s always amazing. [laughs] It’s cool, because you get to hear different interpretations of something that was created by you. To hear somebody’s interpretation of your lyrics and your melody and all that is really interesting.

WCP: Describe your personal and professional growth from your last recording to now.

SS: Professionally, I think I’ve hit a point where I’m like, “Alright, I’ve done what I’m gonna do as Sy Smith, the soul singer” and I’ve wanted to reach and do some other kinds of music. It’s really hard to do house and dance, when everybody thinks you’re a neo soul singer, ya know? So me putting out this record, this greatest hits sort of thing is me saying, “I’m kind of closing the book on that part of me for a second, so I can embrace other things that I really want to do. I’m working on a jazz record that’s more straight-ahead kind of jazz. I’m working to finish this synthy '80s throwback dance record, with a lot of U.K. influences. That’s where I am musically.

I’m just kinda like the girl that everybody knows that nobody knows. [laughs] It’s cool. The way my career is, I kinda have room to make fluid movements and go from here to there without feeling like I’m being jerked or pulled, and that’s nice – to have that sort of anonymity and be known. Known enough that I stay busy, but obscure enough that I don’t get attacked at the shopping mall. In my personal life, I got married three months ago to my long-time boyfriend, and incidentally he’s directed my last four music videos. We’re out here in L.A., doing the thing, and I think that’s gonna move me into another chapter of my life. I think marriage is a big step. [laughs]

Smith performs tonight with Sol Elder at Liv Nightclub, located at 11th & U St., NW. Doors open at 7:30 p.m., show begins at 8:30 p.m. Tickets are $12 in advance, $15 at the door.

But soon you analyze the relationship and aren't thrilled with what's there, and you're forced to sever the bond. Or, maybe she's the one who leaves, pulling out the rug from under your feet. Then you stomp around with your favorite liquor and swear off love forever.

It appears that Phonte Coleman's been there before, if The Foreign Exchange's new album, Authenticity, is any indication. On 10 of the album's 11 songs, the North Carolina native and his friends mangle, twist, and dropkick Cupid all over Nicolay's dark and simplistic soundtrack, while also looking within themselves to assess what went wrong. Simply put: If the group's last project—the remarkably glossy Leave It All Behind—showed reverence for one of life's great mysteries, Authenticity is a disgruntled and dejected middle finger to said mystery.

The group doesn't waste time setting the mood, as evidenced by the restless and ominous bass line on "The Last Fall," the album's frenetic and addictive opener. It stands out not only for its clean sound, but its unforgiving honesty. "Loved you good, and you wrote heartbreak in the sky/Never could walk away, she's too easy on the eyes," Phonte sings sarcastically at the song's outset. "Wanna scream, wanna curse, wanna cry, but I'm much too numb to care."

The Foreign Exchange front man doesn't let up on the album's barren, Prince-influenced title track, which plays like the innermost thoughts of an exasperated man struggling to find his place in a relationship. On "All Roads," however, Nicolay provides an impressively off-kilter, piano-laced beat over which Phonte seems to question his thoughts of fleeing the relationship. "Fight For Love," which features frequent collaborator and Silver Spring resident Zo! on the piano, isn't so much a battle as it is a blatant surrender. The album's calm conclusion, "The City Ain't the Same Without You," finds D.C. native YahZarah providing the female perspective on an otherwise testosterone driven album, making what appears to be a last gasp effort to save the faltering connection.

Ultimately, Authenticity showcases the individual and collective growth of The Foreign Exchange. Dutch producer Nicolay is known for his dense and sleek recordings, but here he strips his sound, leaving room for Phonte's burgeoning abilities as a songwriter and composer. The duo's new album won't help you find love, but it could help you stay in it.

Despite her continual success on the charts and ever-growing fan base with songs like "In For The Kill" and "Bulletproof," Jackson is known for speaking out of turn and straying from politically correct statements. The Quietus reported that she "blast[ed] what she sees as America's ignorance of electronic music." In the same article, while attempting to defend her feminist beliefs, she suggested that women who prefer to dress in a more sexual manner — in contrast to her own androgynous style — probably deserve whatever bad things men do to them. "That's what a real woman is, when you've got the sex eyes. I think you attract a certain kind of man by dressing [provocatively]. Women wonder why they get beaten up, or having relationships with arsehole men. Because you attracted one, you twat."

Jackson, though, is just one of many stars who rail against, you know, the people who pay for their music. Prince, however beloved by his rabid and faithful fans, has taken legal action against his online followers in the past. Back in 2007, lawyers for the Purple Rain star sent warnings to three of his fan-built Web sites, demanding these sites remove all lyrics or likenesses of his image — even those photographed by fans personally at concerts or images of tattoos that devotees had inked of the Purple One. In an unusual turn, fans of the three sites united together in order to protest in defense of the man they loved — despite the fact that he was the one taking legal action against them.

Perhaps the most temperamental of music stars is the ever-evolving man himself, Axl Rose of Guns N' Roses. To be fair, fans aren't Axl's only choice targets for physical or verbal attack — security guards, other musicians, photographers, and technical engineers are also in his repertoire. Perhaps his most famous incident was at a concert in St. Louis when, after noticing a fan taking pictures, Axl leaped into the crowd and took matters into his own hands. Shortly afterward, he left the stage in a huff before his set was up, blaming security for the infraction.

Despite these musicians' sometimes-heated interactions with their critics and fans, their popularity abides. Perhaps the La Roux frontwoman put it best herself: "You're not buying their personality, you're buying their music. Of course it's never nice when you're into an artist and you discover they're horrible, and, yes, it would be disappointing if I suddenly found out that Annie Lennox was racist. But you'd still love the music. It wouldn't matter what I heard about Michael Jackson or Prince — you can't just stop liking a song."

This past weekend, we learned that former Washington City Paper music critic Rickey Wright had died. I put together a tribute of sorts made from Wright's blog posts and WCP pieces, tributes from friends and colleagues and family.

On Saturday afternoon, I had the fortune of talking with Nicole Arthur. Arthur served as Washington City Paper's Arts Editor in 1994 and 1995. It was around that time that Wright began reviewing records for us. This was a time when people wanted to be rock critics, when there was space for such writing, when there was competition to review the big records. And Wright reviewed his share of the big records.

But Arthur was more than just an editor to Wright. She was a friend. The two had struck up a friendship in the '80s. Of course, it started over music.

On Sunday, Arthur e-mailed me some of her many memories of Wright:

"I met Rickey in Richmond, Va., in 1987. I had written a record review for VCU's student newspaper, which I'm pretty sure was the first thing I ever wrote for publication, and he wrote me a fan letter. He had already graduated at that point, and he was working at Peaches Records & Tapes. We met soon thereafter and were fast friends; I think it was our shared reverence for Love's "Forever Changes" that sealed the deal. But back to that fan letter — turns out it was completely in character. Rickey had an amazing generosity of spirit; he constantly encouraged other writers and he was a tireless cheerleader for his friends. If you happened to fall into both categories, you were very lucky indeed.

Unlike most critics, Rickey was not a music snob. He would gladly discuss Nick Drake for hours (and it would be hours — he *loved* to talk), but he would just as gladly discuss Def Leppard. He never wrote anything off because it was "uncool." I once complained about my daughter listening to the Wiggles, and he leapt to their defense: "They're a classic four-piece pop combo!" This is not to say that he was not discriminating, he was. He once wrote a John Mayer review so brutal, the story goes, that Mayer cited it in interviews as an example of his being eviscerated by the press.

Rickey was a master of the soon-to-be-lost art of making mix tapes; he had a great instinct for implausible-seeming combinations that somehow complemented one another. I'm looking at the list of artists on one of the tapes he made me — the Raspberries, Professor Longhair, Love and Rockets, Roger Miller, Prince, Roseanne Cash. And it's amazing; I've been listening to it for 20 years."