#Repost: The Weeknd, Ashanti and More Spotify Editors Pick for New Music Friday

As previously published on Billboard.com.

Every week, Spotify updates their "New Music Friday" playlist, featuring 50 of the freshest new tracks hitting the service that week.

On the heels of Billboard's partnership with the streaming giant, we'll be tapping Spotify's editors to sift through the soon-to-be-hits and highlight the best of the bunch.

Check out the picks and listen to the entire "New Music Friday" playlist below.

The Weeknd - Starboy

With many fans fighting the urge to fall asleep after consuming copious servings of Thanksgiving dinner in order to digest their first listens of The Weeknd's Starboyalbum once the clock struck midnight, it's already being celebrated as one of the best releases of the past year – and then some. The two-time Grammy winning artist has previously shared with us the Daft Punk-assisted title track, "I Feel It Coming," and "Party Monster," with his diehard fan base making a strong case that the alternative R&B singer really outdid himself on his third studio album. Now that the 18-track collection has finally arrived, it is evident it’s a polished release arguably exceeding expectations with ease, offering something for even the most critical of listeners. Considering the Weeknd already set his own bar high with his previous two releases, it is both impressive and inspiring he is able to navigate new territory through his music while also playing up his strengths and revealing some new tricks he had been keeping up his sleeve. With Kendrick Lamar, Future and Lana Del Rey also blessing his project, Starboy is a complex album that demands a front-to-back (and back-again) listen, something that feels increasingly rare in a music landscape that thrives off of loose singles. With Starboy, the Weeknd kills off his former self and reinvents himself all at once, while still leaving room for whatever suspense and drama may be looming in the darkness around the corner, as further showcased through his accompanying action-packed short film, M A N I A. With his first global trek awaiting him as 2017 arrives, the 26-year-old righteously can say the world is his for the taking. This ain't ordinary life.

Ashanti - "Hopeless" feat. Ja Rule

Many fans couldn't help but fixate on how casual Lin-Manuel Miranda's announcement was that the Hamilton mixtape would be released in early December. After all, this is something that has been several years in the making, soundtracking a musical that, with its widespread success, is doubling as a cultural movement. The mixtape features a collection of remixes, covers and samples of the songs that the critically acclaimed musical is built around, and the compilation truly going to add value to everyone's music collection. This week, leading up to the Dec. 2 release date, we are treated to yet another teaser, featuring the likes of one of R&B's most influential duos, Ashanti and Ja Rule. On the track, "Hopeless," the powerhouse pair pick up exactly where they left off the last time they collaborated, further exemplifying why they simply are better together. The track feels like textbook and timeless Ashanti and Ja Rule all at once, while curiously fitting in with the themes of the game-changing historic reimagining. 

Robin Schulz and David Guetta - "Shed A Light" feat. Cheat Codes

While putting two heavyweight producers such as Robin Schulz and David Guettainto the same studio is a surefire way to ensure a high quality dance tune will be created posthaste, "Shed A Light" is proof that the pair don't necessarily play it safe either. While their risks pay off gloriously, such as the choice to weave together an intricate series of strings and the decision to focus more on crafting a beautiful anthem as opposed to a strict club banger, the song commands attention, pulling softly at the heartstrings. Featuring vocals from Cheat Codes, the progressive house ballad fills any room it’s played in, humbly showing off the collaborative genius that the German and French producers hold.

G-Eazy - "Still"

While G-Eazy's schedule has been filled to the brim with steady touring, performing at reputed award shows, such as at the MTV VMAs, and lending his rapping talents to the likes of Britney Spears, the Oakland native definitely had a landmark year he'll always cherish. While 2016 personally treated him very kindly, the 27-year-old isn't fully satisfied, nor is he forgetting what he went through to get to where he is today. In the spirit of the Thanksgiving holiday, G-Eazy has dropped a surprise pair of singles, marking his first official release since his sophomore album, 2015's When It's Dark Out. Throughout his track "Still," G-Eazy displays intriguing lyricism, waxing nostalgic on his journey through music with gratitude, vulnerability and honesty. As the rapper gets personal, rapping over a piano-laden cut produced by Digital Genie, he reflects on how it wasn't too long ago he was day-dreaming of arriving at the level his music career currently is poised going into the new year. Singer Ashley Rose handles the melodic outro, leaving us with the always-appreciated reminder, "It can only get better."

Calum Scott - "Rhythm Inside"

Calum Scott has come a long way from touring the UK as part of a happy-go-lucky Maroon 5-tribute band. After advancing to the finals on Britain's Got Talent last year, the 28-year-old captured the attention of listeners worldwide, even landing the No. 2 spot on the UK Singles Chart for his highly praised, stripped-down cover of Robyn's "Dancing On My Own." While the English singer readies his debut album, fresh off of quitting his day job in HR and inking a deal with Capitol Records earlier this summer, he has today released his first original single, "Rhythm Inside." The song follows in a similar vein as the vocal stylings we've come to know and love Calum for, with the track's soft pop rock vibe finely framing his celebrated range as a versatile singer while accentuating his charm as a hopeful romantic. With this track marking our first official taste of what the Brit has in store next, it is safe to say it's already well worth the wait.

#Repost BET.com: How Kanye West Lost 2016 and 2020 Already

Originally published on BET.com, November 18, 2016.

I have a feeling that if I ever met Kanye West in person I would be disappointed.

They say never meet your idols because, once you do, you welcome the possibility of being unfulfilled. However, in the case of Kanye West, I'm already let down. It’s a looming feeling, one that my intuition stubbornly tells me is on point. If I ever crossed paths with Ye, my inner Kermit meme voice would give a Kanye shrug and say, "I told you so, bih." This year did my fandom no favors.

2016 began on a high note for Kanye, with every single tweet the rapper penned becoming a news headline in its own merit. I know, because I wrote many of them. My Twitter notifications were enthusiastically turned on, desperately hanging onto every 140-character opportunity Ye decided to utilize in continuing this mad scientist-esque narrative. At times it was fun, other times no one cared. It slowly turned into a philosophical mind game, one that had Kim Kardashian biting her acrylics and presumably begging her husband to display some chill on social media. There were rumors no publicist wanted to work with him, and the Kardashian family — specifically Kris Jenner — was worried. Rightfully so, considering every angle of Kanye had an identifiable mess attached to it, including the music. This was a relatively new phenomenon, considering even during Kanye’s most disorganized hysteria, his music (and its rollout) felt trump tight.

Towards the end of his Life of Pablo rollout, we were left scratching our collective heads, since the whole allure of Tidal is its exclusivity, yet Kanye’s work-in-progress was widespread and drawn out. I didn't even listen to the album until months after it hit all of the streams — much to the chagrin of fellow Kanye zealots in my circle. I didn’t want his antics to influence my opinion on the album, but it was seemingly impossible to examine TLOP without looking at how Tidal played a critical role. What was once hailed as a top tier exclusive became a moot point because, while West called out the streaming wars for being problematic, he still wanted to see his name everywhere.

While TLOP became a living example backing up his infamous creative approach aligned with the DaVinci approach of constantly poking at something and waiting for it to suddenly become perfect, the problem lies within the scope of Tidal. Perhaps after realizing he alone doesn't hold the power to save Tidal the way Beyoncé does, he decided helping his “big brother’s” venture was pointless and had to figure out a new way to become a hero, thus calling for Apple to simply buy Tidal from Jay Z and make it all go away. You know, for the sake of the music and for the sake of the kids.

All that aside, even as a die hard Ye fan, I made it a point to take my time listening to Pablo. I wanted the art to stand alone, without being swayed by what my fellow music journalists were scrambling to put together before West changed the production on one song or remixed another again and again. Was he rewriting the rules on how to debut a project or was he simply lazy and succumbing under pressure to get it done? Either way, I wasn't ready to immediately dive in and possibly be disappointed. It was like seeing West casually at the mall and questioning if I should go up to him and say hi, so I approached his work with cautious optimism.

I was later disgusted when I watched, in real time via Tidal, the must-see production he charged hypebeasts a hefty price to experience live, later relegated to a listening party of unmastered tracks played hastily off an aux cord at Madison Square Garden. It was disheartening to learn his production and engineering team were spending upwards of 20 hours a day in the studio to get the album just right — something beyond stressful when you have an unrealistic deadline and a reputed hitmaker of Kanye's stature calling the shots. I imagined his team of writers being woken up from sporadic hour-long naps with scatterbrained text messages and thirty missed calls. When everything is urgent, nothing has urgency.

It was a sobering moment for me once the veil was lifted. Yeezus solidified Kanye West as one of my heroes, a visionary I spent years obsessing over and looking up to. Knowing that my generation of musicians and creatives was inspired by him also inspired me. As exemplified through his impressive and critically acclaimed discography, Kanye had previously laid a creative foundation that set the bar high without making it feel impossible to achieve a high quality of art that is also forward-thinking. Somehow, he could do no wrong. Before Yeezus, he wasn't yet a god and we could still relate on some level knowing there was a chance we'd run into him getting a coffee or a sandwich from the neighborhood bodega. He was someone who lived his art each day and discovering some of his creative team by chance was part of his charm and mystique, i.e. signing Big Sean after he rapped in front of him at a radio station or meeting his former behind-the-scenes consultant Cassius Clay while shopping at Barney’s. Ye, as an artist, was someone who was still approachable while also semi-universally praised for his unconventional methods. This is why we believed him when he said he was a living and breathing rock star. Hell, we even cheered him on when he said he was our generation’s Axl Rose, Jim Morrison and Jimi Hendrix.

But then something shifted, with Yeezus arguably marking the beginning of the “old Kanye.” Considering Kim Kardashian had already become his wife before Yeezus was released, as a fan, I didn’t want to factor in how his transition marrying into the Kardashian family could negatively influence his art in the near future. However, once reports rolled in that the sisters were in the studio with him during TLOP’s eccentric conception, I began to look at Kanye differently. He didn’t prove me wrong, getting off on the spectacle surrounding the album's release as opposed to focusing on perfecting the product itself. 2016 marked the year that the Kanye who wasn’t challenged when he said he was the next Andy Warhol was replaced with a version that is more Azealia Banks than it is his truest self, and sadly, a version that also is without Jay Z. He lost his credibility, and in turn, gained a new level of first-world problems that even Mark Zuckerberg's hypothetically donated money couldn't fix. How did we get here?

Pablo wasn’t the only L the rapper took in 2016, but the spotlight it placed on him didn’t show him in a flattering light. In a way, he embraced trying to look his best under fluorescent lighting by making a fair share of bold statements that could go either way in regards to protecting his reputation as the greatest rapper of all time or altering it. He put Black Twitter into a frenzy by calling for “multiracial women only” for his fourth Yeezy season. He made Chris Brown laugh by portraying him in his naked celebrity-laden “Famous” video while Taylor Swift was quick to be outraged, saying she never asked to be a part of Kanye’s playbook. From there, things only escalated, with Mrs. Kardashian-West epically sharing the receipts that West did in fact consult Swift over the phone before involving her in a controversial line on the track. All of this drama had fans distracted and eagerly flocking to purchase tickets to his Saint Pablo Tour to witness what West would do next.

Fast forward to October, and people began criticizing Kanye for being involved in his wife’s robbery in Paris, speculating that the whole thing was staged in poor taste. Following that ordeal, likely under stress and without his confidant Jay Z to vent to, Kanye instead ranted that their children don’t even play together anymore, inviting people to wonder aloud, for the first time, what happened to hip-hop’s most dynamic duo? Jay Z distancing himself from Kanye made things real while also leaving fans nostalgic not only for the old Kanye but the old Kanye and Jay specifically.

Back in 2005, Kanye was heroically calling out George W. Bush for not caring about Black people. And now, a decade later, with our country's current political climate and Donald Trump as our president-elect, we had Kanye swooping in with a tattered cape declaring he would run for office in 2020. Considering the doomsday result of the 2016 election, many agreed that a Kanye West 2020 ticket wasn’t the most absurd headline to read four years from now.

That was until last night (Nov. 17), when Kanye lost both 2016 and 2020 by vocalizing his support for Trump, admitting he didn't vote and disturbingly saying Black people need to focus less on discussing racism. Supporting Trump and denouncing racism in one night are two things that would have had a 2005 West livid and shaking in his customized Yeezy Boosts. Rap fans with faith in artists collectively sighed as we read the news this morning. First Lil Wayne, now this?

What Kanye West is doing is further exemplifying the words he ironically acknowledged on The Life of Pablo: "I miss the old Kanye." It rings truer and truer with each passing day. Being a misunderstood genius doesn't excuse you from your civic duty to vote nor does it allow you to abuse your platform without being harshly criticized by the people you're attempting to lead. Like Donald Trump, Kanye West's hypocritical actions are setting us back (if we allow them to) after he impressively spent years propelling us forward. In true Kanye fashion, he introduced the nail to the coffin, behaving erratically to throw us all off again and secure some headlines along the way. This might be the coup de grâce.

Day after day, example after example, Kanye is losing us because he lost himself. What goes up, must come down and wondering what happened to Ye this year is like looking for logic in a crazy town. If you need me, I'll be listening to My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy on repeat and Googling throwback photos of the old Kanye and Amber Rose in complimentary outfits. Don't @ me.

#Repost BET.com: Donald Trump Is More Triggering Than the Most Misogynistic of Rap Lyrics

Originally published on BET.com on November 11, 2016.

For so many victims of sexual assault, Donald Trump is a trigger. I'd know, because I'm one of them.

In 2003, I was a 13-year-old attending a junior high school in Upstate New York. One night, the boys’ wrestling team was left unsupervised. Their practice went later than the girls' basketball team’s had, so logistically thinking, it didn't feel abnormal to me that I was alone in a room full of teenage boys wearing spandex uniforms. I was just waiting for a ride home and they were refilling their water bottles. Before I could realize something was off, I was cornered by a beefy jock, the kind with stereotypical low self-esteem. He began mocking me and forcefully grabbing me in places I had never let anyone touch me before, all while his drones cheered him on from a safe distance. I froze and I lost my footing. What happened next began in the same manner as those now-viral words “Grab them by the p***y.” The words our 45th President-elect of the United States got away with saying 13 years later, and the actions that student athlete got away with doing.

The year of my assault was an interesting one for me. As a teenage white girl growing up in the suburbs of Upstate New York, eighth grade marked a year of significant hip-hop discovery. The year 2003 solidified a newfound obsession with music my parents didn't understand. In the same year I first ran through 50 Cent’s Get Rich or Die Tryin' and Jay Z's The Black Album and also began fostering obsessions with Nelly, Usher and Eminem, I also experienced my first sexual assault. And that had no soundtrack.

Years later, as a female hip-hop journalist, being alone in a room full of men equates with riding dolo to a rap show on a Tuesday night after work. We've all been "that girl" at some point, and not once has it ever made me feel the way that Trump's "locker room" talk has.

Much like practically every other conscious female supporter of rap music can attest, I have found myself conflicted with the lyrical content of some of my favorite songs. Why is it, then, that after personally being "grabbed by the p***y" over a decade ago, Donald Trump is the one triggering my past experiences in a devastating and emotionally damaging way — more so than digesting a decade's worth of misogynistic rap content has?

Perhaps we women of hip-hop are immune to rap lyrics not necessarily meant for our ears in the first place, because being hypersexualized has become a conditioned part of the genre's history and culture. A lot of the time, it’s not anything we haven't heard before — from a rapper. However, such publicized objectification in a presidential campaign was not only a first in documented American history, but it was proven to be an acceptable part of a political race, when, on Wednesday (Nov. 9), Trump won the election.

When our favorite rappers make certain comments about women on a track, we can shrug it off, say we don't condone it or simply skip over to the next. However, when the president-elect both believes and broadcasts that he can do “anything” he “wants” to a woman, it should not be avoided, ignored or excused. And because it already has been, that is what makes it so much worse.

While it is cringeworthy hearing Snoop Dogg infamously rhyme "B*****s ain't s**t but h**s and tricks” or Eminem spit "Slut, you think I won't choke no whore," these comments are cringeworthy in a different way. Often, in their music, rappers are detailing consensual actions, often hypothetical, hypersexualized or exaggerated, whereas Trump’s commentary suggests behavior of straight-up rape in real life.

The words "I treated her like a b***h" coming out of Trump's mouth paint a very different picture than Future and Drake singing, "I got some down b*****s I can call" on Lil Wayne's track "B*****s Love Me." In a similar vein, Trump allegedly saying the N-word on the set of Celebrity Apprentice is very different from any rapper of color using the same vernacular. It all comes down to context, implied meaning and the speaker itself, and when the source of such bigotry comes from someone running for high office, the effect such shocking language has when announced to a national, and international, audience is incomprehensibly crippling.

Rape remains the most under-reported crime in the U.S., with 63 percent of sexual assaults never being reported to the police. That being said, art does imitate life, with hip-hop being no exception to that. In instances where rappers have found themselves at the center of a sexual assault claim, such claims are taken seriously and investigated, often resulting in arrests being made and cases being taken to court. Throughout the past couple of decades, rappers have been convicted and served time (Tupac, Mystikal), had charges cleared (DMX) and allegations dropped (Freddie Gibbs, Snoop Dogg), while other current cases remain pending (Kodak Black, The Game). There still lies something that separates these men from the likes of Donald Trump: despite their actions, alleged or otherwise, they have never won the Oval Office — and while competing against a woman no less.

These rappers are fathers, brothers and mentors, and while the same can be said of Donald Trump, there still remain several key differences: integrity, self-awareness and ownership. Rappers are self-aware when they cross a line and are more than likely to own it when they do, whereas Trump has approached the severity of the claims made against him during this past year as if he were being accused of stealing someone's labeled lunch bag out of the office's shared refrigerator. The allegations made against Donald Trump did not cost him his career and were reduced to a one-sentence apology statement carefully crafted with cameras in mind. Whereas acknowledging an offensive lyric or serious possible career-altering allegation, although uncomfortable, holds the power to become a teachable moment, one that hopes to inspire the next generation of rappers to make different lyrical or behavior choices, even though there is still much more work to be done.

Even posterboys for romance and #woke levels like Drake and Kendrick Lamar aren't without invisible gold medals for pushing the sexist lyrical envelope. As Lamar and ScHoolboy Q harmoniously chant "You can f**k my b***h, you can have my h*e," Drake poetically weaves bars that routinely and subtly belittle women into tracks that sit comfortably atop the Billboard charts. Neither of the three men will be questioned or looked at differently. Similar to Rick Ross's apology after being bashed for lyrics widely interpreted as pro-rape, we subconsciously believe such words do not reflect a rapper's true heart and we accept their apologies to be authentic in turn.

Trump, on the other hand, brushes it off when he goes too far, throwing blame on his now-political peers, such as Bill Clinton, for "saying much worse" all before moving on to the next controversial, headline-dominating statement. There is no teachable moment for someone like Trump because there is no accountability. Much like that teenage boy who wrongly and inappropriately welcomed himself to my body without my consent, men like Trump think they did nothing wrong. They are reassured they did nothing wrong by a lack of punishment or consequence, and therefore are more likely to become repeat offenders. For a recent example, look no further than Brock Turner, a white student athlete recently convicted of three counts of felony sexual assault. Despite his crimes carrying a potential prison sentence of 14 years, he was only sentenced to six months. His own mother begged the judge to be lenient, saying her son, (again, a white male accustomed to privilege) “wouldn’t survive” prison. Turner got off easy, and so does Trump, and their lack of accountability is a hard pill to swallow.

There is no question that being both a woman and a fan of hip-hop is conflicting by nature. However, as history has proven itself, hip-hop culture remains more progressive and forward-thinking than the very country that birthed it, and one can only hope that themes of objectifying women, in time, will fade into the background. The same cannot be said for a president whose behavior consistently encourages such a horrific perspective towards women to become the accepted norm. That is one of the many reasons why I'm terrified of what a Donald Trump presidency could mean for the Brock Turners of the country, all while triggering a part of my past that not even the filthiest of rap lyrics can stir up.