It's not necessarily a natural choice for Simmons, given how involved he has become in New York State politics. He previously endorsed Andrew Cuomo for office and made numerous trips to Albany during George Pataki's governorship to reform the Rockefeller drug sentencing laws.

In his endorsement, Simmons writes, "I have great respect for the accomplishments of Senator Clinton and I have personally worked with Senator Clinton successfully on issues concerning education, prison reform and poverty."

But in the end, Simmons, who brought rap music from the predominantly black audience into middle class consciousness with groups like Run D.M.C., the Beastie Boys and solo artists like L.L. Cool J, says he’s supporting Obama because the Illinois senator “has and will continue to transcend race in America.”

Although Obama has a wide lead in the world of hip-hop endorsements, Hillary Clinton does have her supporters, including Darryl McDaniels, a.k.a. D.M.C. of Run D.M.C., and Timbaland.

Here is Russell Simmons' statement about Obama:

best line: "I’m proud that she gives herself the authority to be in her own skin. To be who she is."

It seems like the Clinton campaign is lining up the poetvote.

That was Gene Russianoff's anticipatory take on the line of questions I posed to him and other congestion pricing advocates for a story in this week's Observer.

I've also got an interview with Queens-born rap legend D.M.C. (of Run-D.M.C.), who likes Hillary Clinton “because it’s gangsta.” Here's his take on Barack Obama: “On a political, on a Hollywood, political platform, he’s a new player in town. He’s like Run-D.M.C. to the music industry to break into MTV, if I can put it like that.”

For Mr. McDaniels, known to millions as D.M.C.—as in Run-D.M.C., the immortal, pioneering rap group that he co-founded—that’s saying something. The group smashed Billboard records with songs like “Walk This Way,” “Raising Hell” and “My Adidas.”

Now in his early 40’s, Mr. McDaniels had just experienced his first political fund-raiser, he said. And guiding him through this new terrain is the same hip-hop ethos that guided his career.

He said that although he thought Mrs. Clinton’s main rival for the Democratic nomination, Barack Obama, “could fix everything,” he was thinking about backing Mrs. Clinton “because it’s gangsta. I ain’t doing what everybody else is doing.”

Asked to expand on his point, Mr. McDaniels said, “You know what I’m saying. I didn’t say ‘Barack would do a better job’ because I have faith in Hillary. I just [think] Barack would have nobody to worry about. You know what I’m saying? He’s like—he’s like Run-D.M.C. wearing Adidas into a Reebok party. Or a Nike party. People got to respect that. Because for me, it’s not about—for me, everything that I do, it’s not about black, white, Democrat, Republican. Everything I do is about all of us. Because we all hip-hop.”

So what about Barack Obama?

“You know what I like about Barack Obama? He is probably the best man for the job because he don’t really got to worry about people, taking people’s sides. You know what I’m saying? Like Hillary has people she dealt with for years and sometimes she might have to make a decision and tell these people, ‘F you, I got to do this,’ and they’re going to get mad at her. But see, with Barack right now, he can look at the whole landscape.

“See, a real leader, if you think of a problem to fix, and don’t do nothing about it, that’s a sin. But Barack seems like he’s going to come in and say, ‘Oh, hold up. Let me take care of that; let me take care of that; let me take care of that.’ The problem with politicians, they make all these promises up at the podium when you vote for ’em, but when they get there, they’ll have an excuse for why.”

Would Mr. Obama do a better job?

“I didn’t say that. I said he would come and fix everything. You understand what I’m saying. That’s what I say. Hillary, she can fix everything too. But it’s a little easier for Barack because he hasn’t been around as much. He’s been in the Senate and doing those things.”

“On a political, on a Hollywood, political platform, he’s a new player in town. He’s like Run-D.M.C. to the music industry to break into MTV, if I can put it like that.”

Mr. McDaniels said he had stuck around for the beginning of Mr. Clinton’s introduction for his wife, long enough to hear the former President say “something about all the candidates has to be the best man, but, in the room, this time around, the best man in the room happens to be a lady.

“Everybody said ‘Aahh.’ So, I was like, ‘You go girl!’ Next time, I’m going to vote for you.”

And did Mr. McDaniels have anything to say about Mrs. Clinton’s ongoing, highly public search for a campaign theme song?

“For Hillary Clinton,” he said, thinking aloud. “What’s a good campaign song?”

Raising Hell?

“No.”

Walk This Way?

“Uh-uh.”

Dude (Looks Like a Lady)?

“No. I got something. No. ‘King of Rock.’”

That’s the suggestion?

“Yes, sir. The reason why is because She cracks through walls, come through floors, cuts through ceilings and knocks down doors. It’s time for change.”

My high school, in Cambridge, Mass., had its own radio station, WRLS, and I worked there during my sophomore year, 1985-86.

Back then, my fellow D.J.'s musical tastes were pretty clear: The black kids liked hip-hop and the white kids liked heavy metal. Personally, I preferred the Beatles, but when forced to choose between those two genres, I always threw my lot in with the hip-hop lovers. The best rappers of the mid-80's-Run-D.M.C. being tops among them, closely followed by L.L. Cool J-had an audaciousness and a vitality that couldn't be matched by the likes of Mötley Crüe or even Metallica. In fact, I felt a little embarrassed that most of the other representatives of my race worshipped music that sounded so stodgy to me.

Later on, groups like Public Enemy, De La Soul, N.W.A and A Tribe Called Quest further deepened my appreciation of hip-hop. But in the mid-90's, something happened. To my ear, hip-hop became as stodgy as the metal that bored me back in the 80's.

Of course, there have been exceptions: the Roots, OutKast, Eminem, Missy Elliott. Yet, overall, the more successful the music has become, the more it's lost the life force that made it exciting.

Which makes Original Pirate Material (Vice/Atlantic), the debut album by the Streets, all the more noteworthy. Mike Skinner, the Streets' sole full-time member, is a white 22-year-old from Birmingham, England. He's a product of one of the U.K.'s many mystifying dance subgenres, two-step garage. (Garage is an offshoot of house music; beyond that I dare not go.)

Despite Mr. Skinner's pedigree, however, Original Pirate Material isn't a dance record. It's a hip-hop record, and one that's refreshingly unlike any I've heard.

For starters, when Mr. Skinner raps, he makes no attempt to Americanize the telltale diphthongs and glottal stops of his Midlands accent. He also steers clear of most traditional hip-hop lingo; he doesn't represent and he isn't keepin' it real . Instead, he describes "the day in the life of a geezer" and tosses off such lines as "My underground train runs from Mile End to Ealing / From Brixton to Boundsgreen."

In Mr. Skinner's world, Birmingham doubletalk is just as valid a rap vehicle as the slang of Compton or the South Bronx-and for the people he lives with, it's far more relevant. "Around 'ere we say 'birds,' not 'bitches,'" he proclaims in the bouncy, reggae-tinged "Let's Push Things Forward."

You could argue that Mr. Skinner is just trading one kind of linguistic obscurity for another, and you'd be right. Case in point: I only recently discovered that "chasing brown," a pastime mentioned in "Has It Come to This?", is a reference to taking heroin.

The fact is that the unusual verbiage would be little more than a novelty without compelling stories. Fortunately, Mr. Skinner's got plenty of those. Among the highlights: a hilarious confrontation between a lager lout and a know-it-all pothead in "The Irony of It All," a wistful remembrance of the British rave scene in "Weak Become Heroes," and the gloomy tale of a love affair capsized by the narrator's selfishness in "It's Too Late."

Mr. Skinner's delivery is elastic in the extreme; he floats over the music, managing to sound laid-back even when his rhythms are pushing against it. The beats are spare and intriguingly off-kilter, and the tracks are loaded with clever musical touches like the plinky oud sample found on "Too Much Brandy." It all adds up to the most thrilling development hip-hop's seen in quite some time.

Another Brit whose foray into the dance world has produced excellent results is the singer and songwriter David Gray. By injecting a touch of drum-and-bass into his Van Morrison–esque folk-rock songs, Mr. Gray became a multiplatinum star with his fourth album, 1999's White Ladder . The just-released follow-up, A New Day at Midnight (RCA/ATO), continues in the same vein, layering the chatter of drum machines and samples underneath Mr. Gray's rich, impassioned voice.

With its swirling guitars and bold minor-to-major chord progression, the opening track, "Dead in the Water," boasts a drama worthy of Radiohead. But most of what follows is subdued by comparison. In the early stages of his career, Mr. Gray was often guilty of overemoting. These days, he's making a concerted effort to cut down on his big moments. Songs like "Last Boat to America" and "The Other Side" don't tug on your sleeve for attention, but subtly wriggle their way into your memory.

Subtlety's a fine thing in music, and Mr. Gray applies it well. Still, A New Day at Midnight 's best track is its most outlandish. An exuberant love song, "Caroline" begins with the blips and honks of an analog synthesizer merrily tripping over a cheesy yet urgent programmed beat. The forceful strumming of an acoustic guitar enters the mix, followed by a jerky, staggering bassline.

Mr. Gray sings that the effort to win the title subject's affections is "the final war / A steel-eyed dinosaur," then lets out a wild whoop, clearing the way for an eye-popping pedal-steel solo by B.J. Cole. Nothing works out as expected, yet it sounds completely right. More like this next time, please.

Our final subject this week is Red Letter Days (Interscope), the new CD by the Wallflowers. As most readers will probably be aware, the Wallflowers are led by Jakob Dylan, whose father has something of a reputation in the industry.

The pressures of being the performing progeny of a musical icon must be crippling, but Mr. Dylan has responded to them admirably. His band's last two albums, Bringing Down the Horse and Breach , were intelligent and tuneful, and they had heart. It seemed that Mr. Dylan was readying himself to carry the banner of American rock in the great tradition of Springsteen, Petty and, of course, his dad.

Red Letter Days won't hurt his chances of attaining such hallowed status. But it won't help them, either. The album's nicely performed and produced, but it's low on personality.

A few tracks do stand out; the tender, piano-led "Closer to You" and the vaguely Latin "Too Late to Quit" are particularly striking. But the rest is undone by a creepy air of anonymity. I like the Wallflowers and I'd like to like this disc, but the lack of any song as strong as Mr. Dylan's previous hits "One Headlight" and "6th Avenue Heartache" is glaring, and I find my mind wandering way too much every time I put it on.

When the sharpest adjectives you can find to describe a piece of music are "solid" and "respectable," you know something's gone, as Mike Skinner might say, all pear-shaped.