I have it on good authority one of my favorite rappers is about to sign to a major label. For now, let’s call him Indie-ana Jones.

As his name implies, Indie-ana has always been on an independent label, armed with a diabolical whip of words to snap and style on foes, faster than the speed of sound. Now he stands at the end of an industry chasm, having been chased down by a crushing boulder of buzz, and must weigh the art he holds in his hand with a relic of corporate gold on the table. Skeptical beads of sweat form on his brow and are wiped easily away with a hundred dollar bill.

Who among us can blame our hero for wanting the prize? We sit on the edge of our seats to see if he makes it out of the Temple of Industry Doom. Can he overcome the odds? It’s a multi-faceted debate best answered by example…

The Cool Kids and the Raiders of the Lost Art

In this tale we have a tightpants-ed duo who grab your attention with their image and knock you over the head with an original, cakey take layered thick over dumbed out beats. Chuck and Mikey’s mugs are on every magazine, their tour bus rolls into every city and they have actual music out that you can buy in The Bake Sale. All of this while remaining independent on Chocolate Industries. As a result of their foresight, they’ve stepped into the light as forefathers of industry success in the digital age while maintaining artistic control.

Then there are The Knux.

Here we have a tightpants-ed duo signed to Universal. Hailing from New Orleans, residing in Los Angeles, Krispy and Al have created a weird mash-up of both locales, far from symbiosis. Though the MCs blackout in the booth, they push unconsciousness into career comatose with a clear disinterest for the human ear. Their recent major label release, Remind Me In 3 Days, is as unpalatable as Vegemite. But what’s most offensive isn’t The Knux nauseating ad nauseam, it’s that Universal thought they could get one past us so deftly — like if they put two dudes in lumberjacks and Day-Glo, we’d forget they weren’t The Cool Kids (a group I’m sure they now wish they’d signed long ago.) Truth be told, The Knux would have done much better to go independent where they’d be able to form and figure their art to an audience; something they may have a hard time ever finding with a major.

Nelly and the Kingdom of the Crystal Numb-Skull

Here we have the story of a young, attractive, commercially viable rapper whose most recent album you do not own. Brass Knuckles has been out for damn near two months… let me know when you find time to run out and get it. I’ll wait.

In the meantime, I’ll just flip through this magazine in a waiting room flooded with elevator musak covers of ringtone flash-in-the-pan hits like “This Is Why I’m Hot.” What’s that you ask? What am I reading? Oh, just some old Rolling Stone chock full of rappers with Big Industry boom, found a few years later in their virtual talentlessness with swagger rendered flaccid after an album or two. I’m lookin at you, 50. Game. Bow Wow. Ja Rule.

Little Brother and the Last Crusade

Major labels lost sight of the reason they were in business during a slow, painful death of the most important figure in the game — Artist Development. But now I tell you a story of redemption…

Phonte and Pooh have something few artists have behind them: a loyal fan base. And they didn’t appear over night. Little Brother has had to prove their talent, performance and consistency over three LPs, a handful of mixtapes, endless tour dates and an innate understanding for what the industry can do to an artist if they don’t maintain focus on what’s important. It’s hard to find a more entertaining set for your money than a Little Brother show, or a more solid discography on ANY scale. They’ve traveled the embittered path of Big Industry and returned to independence. Every year, you hear more from them and probably like their old music as much as their new work. They aren’t cliche, they aren’t buying into fads, and they’ve developed themselves as artists because the majors didn’t know how.

So now we return to Indie-ana, who weighs a unique brand of art with the possibility of it being shelved in the vaults of Hollywood, shoved in an aisle deep in the back marked “Unmarketable.” To get to that part of the vault you have to pass a lot of industry fuck-ups: in the “Leaked” aisle we see Bilal and Dilla; here’s the “Yeah Right” section where we have Only Built 4 Cuban Linx II and Detox; now we pass “Purgatory” where Busta clutches a classic we may never hear in its entirety.

Of course, there are the Kanyes. The Commons. The Badus. The Jay-Zs. The Outkasts. The success stories of giants who may not always be treated right by the industry, but have seen their careers flourish above and beyond all expectations.

And it’s on this path I hope to one day find our hero, Indie-ana Jones.