Here is a list of artists who have endorsed or collaborated with the gloriously monikered Theophilus London: M.I.A.; TV On The Radio's Dave Sitek; Sleigh Bells; Sara Quin from Tegan and Sara; John Hill of Santigold production repute; and one-time Jealous Girlfriends member Holly Miranda. Not, then, the usual cast list of supporters drafted in to help propel a young rapper up from out of the mixtape circuit and into the major rap leagues. But a spin of Timez Are Weird These Days, the Brooklyn-based rap fop's debut studio album, reveals that to be the idea: He's a rapper, but he doesn't seem particularly bothered about cultivating rap fans.

Timez Are Weird These Days might be grounded in the basic idea that it's a collection of songs that employ rapped lyrics as the main vocal delivery, but its production, grooves, and ultimate ambitions aim elsewhere. At times it's music for a hip party, like the fuzzy, smutty funk of "Girls Girls $." At others, London is swanking around like he's draped in Diddy money, talking about becoming smitten with a "disco queen" that he runs into while hitting up a city's "bistro scene" ("Love Is Real"). London's songs usually push in a pop direction, too: Skipping over the actual rapping part, "I Stand Alone," with its defiantly motivational chorus, does a decent impression of an Eagle Eye Cherry ditty; lead single "Why Even Try" and "Lighthouse" sound like he missed his calling as an '80s pop-rapper. (If only London had Diddy's budget—he could rap over Duran Duran!)

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We are not immediately predisposed to the Vino in Vino concert series -- which "matches artists with winemakers for a night of music and vino" -- but we are fortunately extremely predisposed to sharp-edged dream-pop belter Holly Miranda, whose show at Bowery Ballroom a few months back was one of the year's biggest and best surprises, and who apparently pulled the same trick at NYC wine bar In Vino Sunday night.

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Pic by Sterling Taylor

The mighty NYC Taper was present at Brooklyn dream-pop ingenue (and expert record-sneaker) Holly Miranda's pretty fantastic Wednesday-night Bowery Ballroom show, and was kind enough to pass along an MP3 of the set's highlight, a blistering, stupendous cover of the Etta James standard "I'd Rather Go Blind."

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Unhinged, raucous, gigantic. Pics by Sterling Taylor.

"I enjoy a good sleep," Holly Miranda told us yesterday, discussing the distinct snooze motif running through the Jealous Girlfriends singer's new woozy, eerily ethereal solo record, The Magician's Private Library, leading one to expect a demure, delicate, dreamlike set tonight. But no, there she is wailing away with raucous abandon, a stupendously muscular band (the manic drummer especially) bashing away behind her, taking on tunes by both Yoko Ono and Etta James and totally burning down both of them.

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Sebastian Mylanarski

Holly Miranda

Known for being the face of Brooklyn rock act the Jealous Girlfriends, Holly Miranda quietly released her debut solo album The Magician's Private Library this past February. It's a washed-out, hazy record that has Miranda's airy voice sounding something like '80s 4AD meets old bluesy gospel. (This is a sound that TV on the Radio's Dave Sitek, who produced Magician, is well established at capturing.)

Miranda's spent most of spring as the opening act for Tegan & Sara and is winding down a short headlining tour tonight (still tickets left!) at the Bowery Ballroom. Later this summer, she'll join Metric and Joan as Policewoman at a Celebrate Brooklyn! event on August 5. We spoke with Miranda as she was stuck in traffic on the FDR.

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At Santos, not Cake Shop, but same idea.

Let's make a vast generalization here: there is a certain male prerogative that responds to CMJ's fever pitch of hype and borderline hostile audiences by becoming--for lack of a better word--Pavement. He will climb up on a stage, only to signal that he has no desire whatsoever to be there. He will eye the audience mistrustfully. He is, it often seems, not particularly concerned with doing a good job. This too--it will be made known--is our problem, not his. Unfair, maybe. But who at this point in the week is not sick of the bathetic tableau of a 23-year-old dude doubled over his guitar, grimacing?

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