Corante

About this Author
Derek Lowe
Derek Lowe, an Arkansan by birth, got his BA from Hendrix College and his PhD in organic chemistry from Duke before spending time in Germany on a Humboldt Fellowship on his post-doc. He's worked for several major pharmaceutical companies since 1989 on drug discovery projects against schizophrenia, Alzheimer's, diabetes, osteoporosis and other diseases. To contact Derek email him directly: derekb.lowe@gmail.com Twitter: Dereklowe

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October 8, 2009

Hoist, Petard, Etc.

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Posted by Derek

Hmmm. As a colleague just pointed out to me, I've spent some time here defending "me-too" drugs. And just this morning (see the previous post) I take off after what can only be described as "me-too reactions", saying that I don't see the use for so many of them.

Well! The only defense I can offer (until I think of a better one) is that there is no drug category so populated as the aldoxime-to-nitrile conversion is in synthetic chemistry (or acetal formation/deprotection, desilylation, or the other categories I spoke of in that other post). I suppose I might have a tougher time standing up for me-too drugs if there were (say) twenty-nine statins on the market. But still. . ."I'd better put up a post on that", I said. "Better you than someone with a funny pseudonym in your comments section", came the reply.

Comments (7) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Chemical News | Life in the Drug Labs

Retire These Reactions!

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Posted by Derek

Here's a question you don't hear discussed very often: are there some synthetic organic chemistry reactions that don't need any more work? I'm moved to ask this because I just came across yet another way that someone has reported to dehydrate an oxime to a nitrile. (No, I won't link to it. You don't need it. No one needs it).

If asked to count the number of times I have seen new reagents that dehydrate oximes to nitriles, I would be at a total loss to even try to guess. But I've seen it over and over and over. Is it possible that we now have enough ways to do this? And that anyone who is contemplating adding another one to the list should instead go do something else?

I'll vote for that. And there are several other transformations that could go on the same list. That doesn't mean that I think that our existing methods for these are all perfect, or that they couldn't be improved. I mean, even for forming amides, I would like an inexpensive reagent that never fails, even with crappy unreactive hindered coupling partners, works at room temperature in about five minutes, and has a ridiculously simple workup. We don't quite have that, do we? But no one's publishing on coupling reagents like that, because they're rather hard to realize. What we get are a bunch of things that are about as useful as what we have already.

And I agree that it's worth having multiple methods to accomplish the same reaction. I've been saved several times by being able to move down the list and find something that works. But how long should the list be? Eight reagents? Ten? Twenty? At what point should something like this cease to become an acceptable field for human effort?

My first nomination, then, for the Retirement Home for Organic Transformations is aldoxime to nitrile. I am willing to face the rest of my chemistry career with only the monstrously long list of reagent systems we have today for that reaction. Further nominations can be made in the comments - I'll assemble a list for another post.

Comments (36) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Chemical News | Life in the Drug Labs

September 30, 2009

Microwaves Aren't Magic

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Posted by Derek

Many synthetic chemists these days use microwave reactors to speed up their reactions, especially metal-catalyzed couplings. But there's been a debate ever since the technique became popular about why it works so well. Some people think that microwave irradiation is just a very efficient and fast way to heat up a reaction, while others have hypothesized some sort of microwave-specific effect, outside of the heating behavior. Metal catalysts have been particular favorites for this possibility.

The former view has been gaining ground, though, and I think we can now say that it's won. A new paper from the lab of microwave chemistry pioneer Oliver Kappe has an ingenious way to settle the argument. They've fabricated a microwave reactor vial out of silicon carbide. It's chemically inert and has very high thermal conductivity, but SiC is completely opaque to microwave frequencies. Reactions run in this vessel heat up just as quickly as those run in the same-sized glass tube, and reach the same internal pressures and working temperatures. But the contents experience no microwave irradiation at all.

Kappe and his co-workers ran a wide variety of reactions head-to-head in the two kinds of vial, including a range of metal catalysts. No differences were observed in the yields, purities, or side products for any of eighteen different types of reaction. That's good enough for me: unless someone can come up with a weirdo outlier catalyst, there is no nonthermal microwave effect on organic chemistry.

Comments (17) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Chemical News

September 29, 2009

Nobel Season 2009

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Posted by Derek

Fall is in the air, which (for a very small group of people) brings thoughts of a call from Stockholm. The Nobel Prizes will be announced next week, starting the Physiology and Medicine on Monday. And as in years past, people are lining up with predictions.

Predicting the Chemistry prize is tricky, since it's so often used as a surrogate for the nonexistent Biology prize (and, once in a while, as an overflow Physics one as well). But let's take a look at the field and see if the Scandinavians surprise us or not.

The two best roundups I've seen so far are from the Wall Street Journal and Thomson/Reuters. For Chemistry, the Journal has a pair of biology prize possibilities going to (1) Hartl and Horwich for chaperone proteins, or (2) Winter and Lerner for antibodies (humanized, monoclonal, catalytic). They also have a material-science one for Matyjaszewski (atom-transfer radical polymerization). Note that that last Wikipedia entry seems to show (at least as of this morning) the hand of an interested editor.

Meanwhile, the Thomson people, using a citation-based algorithm, have no overlaps with this list at all. They suggest (1) Michael Grätzel (dye-based solar cells), (2) Jackie Barton, Bernd Giese, and Gary Schuster (electron transfer in DNA), or (3) Benjamin List (asymmetric catalysis).

And over at the Chem Blog, the current favorites are Grätzel and also Richard Zare, Allan Bard, and William Moerner for single-molecule spectroscopy. Those last two have already picked up the Wolf Prize in Chemistry for that work in 2008, and Zare won one in 2005. It's worth noting that Richard Lerner, from the Thomson list, won back in 1994-1995, along with Peter Schultz, who also is often mentioned when Nobel time comes around.

I think that Grätzel is a good bet, considering that the work seems solid and that solar power is such a hot topic these days. I would like to see Bernd Giese get in on a prize, since I did my post-doc with him, but I consider the electron-transfer work to be more of a long shot, at least for now. List is probably the best shot at a "pure organic chemistry" prize; although I also doubt that this is the way it'll go this year. As always, it wouldn't surprise me a bit if things bleed over from biology - the committee might go as far as to consider telomeres to be chemicals and give it to Blackburn, Greider, and Szostak. And that's certainly worth an award, just not in Chemistry.

We'll know soon. Feel free to put your favorites into the comments, and I'll update this post with the list of suggestions. One of has to get it right, you'd think.

Comments (68) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Chemical News

September 28, 2009

Chew On This, Enzyme

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Posted by Derek

File this one under "Department of Odd Ideas". There's a paper coming out in JACS that has a neat variation on an idea that's been kicking around for some years now: molecularly-imprinted polymers (MIPs). A MIP is a sort of molded form around some molecular template - you make your polymer in the presence of the desired target molecule, with the idea that you'll then form target-shaped cavities in the resulting gel.

These things have been worked on for years in the analytical chemistry field, since they have the potential to form very robust sensors for a wide variety of substances. The thought has also been that they might serve as pseudo-enzymatic catalysts for some reactions as well, although I get the impressions that that's been harder to realize. From the outside, the whole area seems to be one of those that goes on for years as something that's still developing and hasn't quite taken off.
MIP%20abstract%20scheme.jpg
This latest idea may or may not change that, but it's ingenious. What this group (from two French labs) has done is anchor the initiation point of the polymer to an enzyme inhibitor molecule - in this case, to an amidine inhibitor of trypsin. The resulting polymer turns out to have strong inhibitory activity for the enzyme, about a thousandfold higher than the starting amidine - as well it might, if it's muffling the active site like a huge beach towel. They tried a number of potential polymeric systems, settling on some neutral methacrylates, since charged species didn't seem to give binding (or specificity) at all.

The control experiments support their interpretation of what's going on. The resulting polymers don't seem to recognize (or inhibit) a variety of otherwise similar proteins. If control polymers are formed without the anchoring group, they have no inhibitory effect. Similarly, if the experiment is done with an excess of non-polymerizable inhibitor, the effect goes away as well (since the active site is already occupied).

I'm not sure that these things will find much use as enzyme inhibitors in living systems, unless you're looking to shut down some sort of enzyme in the gut. (In that case, you might be able to give someone a glass full of soluble polymeric stuff, with the expectation that it wouldn't be absorbed and would emerge more or less unchanged. But perhaps there are applications under blood filtration or dialysis conditions, or topical ones. At any rate, it's a neat idea which is now looking for a home. . .

Comments (3) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Chemical News

September 21, 2009

More on T2, and Degrees

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Posted by Derek

Friday's article on the T2 explosion has had a lot of readers, thanks to links from various outside sources. One line from it has attracted a disproportionate amount of comment - the one where I mentioned that the two owners of the company had only undergraduate degrees. This needs some clearing up; I should have explained myself more clearly in the original post.

First off, there are two things I most definitely didn't mean. I do not, of course, mean to imply that anyone without a graduate degree is incapable of running a complex or hazardous chemical process. Nor am I assuming that there's some sort of magic in a graduate degree program that turns a person into someone who actually can run such things. I've seen enough smart people who didn't go to grad school (and enough fools with PhDs) not to believe either of those.

The key thing here (besides intelligence, which is necessary, but not sufficient) is experience. And what experience gives you, among other things, is a sense of knowing what needs to be worried about. That's what the T2 people seem to have lacked. It's no exaggeration that every time I've described this accident to an experienced scale-up or process chemist, their response has been outrage and incredulity. De mortuis nil nisi bonum, and my apologies in advance to any relatives or colleagues of the deceased, but these people were conducting a very hazardous chemical process, and the lack of care they showed while doing so is stunning. No calorimetry to look for exothermic reactions, a totally inadequate rupture disk for venting that large a reactor, no attempt to set up the process as a flow or feed (which also would have given you built-in temperature control), and no backup for the absolutely crucial cooling system.

Now, it's quite possible that if the people who set up the T2 reactor had been through a graduate program that they would have gone on to do the exact same thing. But it might have helped a bit, which might have been enough to keep four people from being killed. Graduate work is supposed to involve research, experiments that haven't been run before. If you get a degree that's worth anything, you've had the experience of having to figure experimental setups out on your own, and that means that you should have had some chances to think about what might go wrong with them. And the larger the scale of your chemistry, the more you should think about that last point.

Having a couple of reactions take off and spray the inside of your fume hood brings home the problems of heat transfer and pressure relief in a way that no textbook can quite match, and that's not something that you'll experience as an undergraduate in most colleges. Now, it's true that you can experience that at work, too, where the lessons will be even more vivid. That's why in an industrial setting an experienced chemist without a doctorate is almost always much more worth listening to than a freshly arrived PhD - if they're any good, they've seen a lot and they've learned from it.

The people running T2 not only did not take proper precautions, they had been told that they needed to bring in a consultant to look over their process. In other words, "get someone in here who can see things that you're overlooking". But they didn't do that. It's also possible that they might have brought someone in and ignored their recommendations, too, and there's no degree program that can keep you from acting like that, either. They'd run this thing over and over just the way it was, and they probably thought that everything was under control. But it wasn't. And they had no idea.

Comments (30) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Chemical News | Safety Warnings

September 18, 2009

175 Times. And Then the Catastrophe.

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Posted by Derek

I noted this item over at C&E News today, a report on a terrible chemical accident at T2 Laboratories in Florida back in 2007. I missed even hearing about this incident at the time, but it appears to have been one of the more violent explosions investigated by the federal Chemical Safety and Hazard Board (CSB). Debris ended up over a mile from the site, and killed four employees, including one of the co-owners, who was fifty feet away from the reactor at the time. (The other co-owner made it through the blast behind a shipping container and suffered a heart attack immediately afterwards, but survived). Here's the full report as a PDF.
T2%20aerial%20shot.jpg
The company was preparing a gasoline additive, methylcyclopentadienyl manganese tricarbonyl (MCMT). To readers outside the field, that sounds like an awful mouthful of a name, but organic chemists will look it over and say "OK, halfway like ferrocene, manganese instead of iron, methyl group on the ring, three CO groups on the other side of the metal. Hmmm. What went wrong with that one?"

Well, the same sort of thing that can go wrong with a lot of reactions, large and small: a thermal runaway. That's always a possibility when a reaction gives off waste heat while it's running (that's called an exothermic reaction, and some are, some aren't - it depends on the energy balance of the bonds being broken versus the bonds being made, among other things). Heating chemical reactions almost invariably speeds them up, naturally, so the heat given off by such a reaction can make it go faster, which makes it give off even more heat, which makes it. . .well,, now you know why it's called a runaway reaction.

On the small scales where I've spent my career, the usual consequence of this is that whatever's fitted on the top of the flask blows off, and the contents geyser out all over the fume hood. One generally doesn't tightly seal the top of a reaction flask, not unless one knows exactly what one is doing, so there's usually a stopper or rubber seal that gives way. I've walked back into my lab, looked at the floor in front of my hood, and wondered "Who on earth left a glass condenser on my floor?", until I walked over to have a look and realized where it came from (and, um, who left it there).

But on a large scale, well, things are always different. For one thing, it's just plain larger. There's more energy involved. And heat transfer is a major concern on scale, because while it's easy to cool off a 25-milliliter flask, where none of the contents are more than a centimeter from the outside wall, cooling off a 2500-gallon reactor is something else again. Needless to say, you're not going to be able to pick it up quickly and stick it into 25,000 gallons of ice water, and even that wouldn't do nearly as much good as you might think. The center of that reactor is a long way from the walls, and cooling those walls down can only do so much - stirring is a major concern on these scales, too.
T2%20agitator.jpg
What's worth emphasizing is that this explosion occurred on the one hundred seventy-fifth time that T2 had run this reaction. No doubt they thought they had everything well under control - have any of you ever run the same reaction a hundred and seventy-five times in a row? But what they didn't know was crucial: the operators had only undergraduate degrees (Update: here's another post on that issue), and the CSB report concludes that the didn't realize that they were walking on the edge of disaster the whole time. As it turns out, the MCMT chemistry was mildly exothermic. But if the reaction got above the normal production temperature (177C), a very exothermic side reaction kicked in. Have I mentioned that the chemistry involved was a stirred molten-sodium reaction? Yep, methylcyclopentadiene dimer, cracking to monomer, metallating with the sodium and releasing hydrogen gas. This was run in diglyme, and if the temperature went up above 199C, the sodium would start reacting energetically with the solvent. Update: corrected these temperature values

Experienced chemists and engineers will recognize that setup for what it is: a black-bordered invitation to disaster. Apparently the T2 chemists had experienced a few close calls in the past, without fully realizing the extent of the problem. On the morning of the explosion, the water cooling line experienced some sort of blockage, and there was (fatally) no backup cooling system in place. Ten minutes later, everything went up. In retrospect, the only thing to do when the cooling went out would have been to run for it and cover as much ground as possible in the ten minutes left, but that's not a decision that anyone usually makes.
T2%20reactor.jpg
Here you see part of the company's reactor vessel, which ended up on some train tracks 400 feet away. The 4-inch-wide shaft of the agitator traveled nearly as far, imbedding itself into the sidewalk like a javelin. My condolences go out to the families of those killed and injured in this terribly preventable accident. The laws of thermodynamics, unfortunately, have no regard for human life at all. They cannot be brushed off or bargained with, and if you do not pay attention to them they can cut you down.

Comments (57) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Chemical News | Safety Warnings

September 9, 2009

"Scratch and Sniff" Turns Into "Zap and React"

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Posted by Derek

Here's an odd idea that might turn into something useful. A group at Berkeley (spanning both the chemistry and physics departments of Cal-Berkeley and the Lawrence labs) have reported a method for encapsulating organic molecules and releasing them inside a reaction when needed.

What they do is form microcapsules, small polymer spheres, from branched acid chlorides and amines. That technology is already known, but in this case they're also incorporating carbon nanotubes inside the capsules, as shown in the photo. If you do this from a solution of some reagent of interest, you now have it, the solvent, and the carbon nanotubes wrapped up in small polymer beads.
nanocapsules.jpg
And if you irradiate these things, the carbon nanotubes heat up rapidly, causing the microcapsules to break open. There's the control mechanism. They've demonstrated this for reactions such as the "click" triazole formation and for olefin metathesis. You can follow the reaction progress, and it goes stepwise, further every time you hit the solution with a near-IR laser, and stopping until you do it again and release more coupling partner.

The limits of this system, so far, are (1) that the microcapsules aren't compatible with the full range of organic solvents, (2) that heat-sensitive reagents probably won't do very well in a system that require local heating to burst the capsules, and (3) that you eventually have to clean out (presumably by some sort of filtration) the capsule and nanotube residue after things have burst. But some of these can be addressed in further rounds of improvements.

For example, there must be different sorts of polymers that can form these beads, for one thing. And if it's possible to encapsulate things on the surface of a larger sheet of solid material, you could just dip that in and pull it back out when you're through, which should cut down on the capsule residue. (That would also allow you to quantitate how much reagent you've released, by following the surface area of the sheet that you've irradiated with the laser). What would really make this something to see would be if a way could be found to release different sorts of capsules at different wavelengths, selectively. . .

Comments (3) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Chemical News

September 1, 2009

Another Iron Reaction Hits The Mat

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Posted by Derek

Beware of iron! That's the lesson that's being hammered home these days in synthetic chemistry. I wrote recently about the discovery that a series of iron-catalyzed couplings were actually being caused by trace amounts of copper compounds. Now there's another re-examination of some similar iron couplings that were reported last year.

If you click on that last link, you'll see that there was already trouble with the original work. The authors themselves appear to have had a hard time repeating it, and earlier this year they retracted the paper. This latest publication (from other workers) details their own attempts to reproduce the original iron-catalyzed work. In most cases, they got nothing at all, but once (and only once) they had a wonderful spot-to-spot reaction take place with para-bromoacetophenone, which must have been just the sort of thing that excited the original researchers.

But it could never be reproduced. The best guess is that this one reaction may have been catalyzed by trace amounts of palladium. That's plausible, because, as it turns out, the coupling can be run at high conversion with one ten-thousandth of a per cent of palladium acetate. Yes, a substrate-to-catalyst ratio of one million to one is sufficient, and that's the kind of activity that makes it very, very hard to assume that trace amounts of palladium salts aren't doing the work.

It also makes you wonder why anyone would use anything else, at least for activated systems like para-Br acetophenone. In the future, anyone trying to come up with a non-palladium coupling protocol had better stick with the tough reactions that don't work well anyway. That will keep this sort of thing from happening again - and those are the kinds of reactions we need help with, anyway. A new catalyst for coupling red-hot electron-poor aryl bromides, on the other hand, will be greeted with yawns, and with suspicion as well.

Comments (24) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Chemical News

August 27, 2009

Rings of the Future!

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Posted by Derek

Here's an interesting paper that some of you may have seen in J. Med. Chem.: "Heteroaromatic Rings of the Future". That's an odd title, but an appropriate one.

For the non-chemists in the crowd who made it to this paragraph, heteroaromatic rings are a very wide class of organic compounds. They're flat cyclic structures with one or more nitrogen, oxygen, or sulfur atoms in the ring - I'll leave out explaining the concept of "aromaticity" for now, but suffice it to say that it makes them flat and gives them some other distinct properties. These structures are especially important in medicinal chemistry. If you stripped out all the drugs that contain something from this class, you'd lose a bit under half of the current pharmacopoeia, and that share has lately been increasing.

The authors have sat down and attempted to work out computationally all the possible heteroaromatic systems. If you include a carbonyl group as a component of the ring, you get 23,895 different scaffolds (and only 2986 if you leave the carbonyl out of it). Their methods to define and predict that adjective "possible" are extensive and worth reading if you're curious; they did put a lot of effort into that question, and their assumptions seem realistic to me. (For example, right off, they only considered mono- and bicyclic systems, 5- and 6-membered only, C, H, N, O and S).

At any rate, only 1701 of those 23,985 have ever been reported in the literature. And it looks as if reports of new ring systems reached a peak in the late 1970s, and have either dropped off or (at the very least) never exceeded those heights since then. The authors estimate that perhaps 3,000 of their list are synthetically feasible, with a few hundred of them being notably more likely than the rest. Their paper, in fact, seems to be a brief to alter that publication trend by explicitly pointing out unexplored synthetic territory. It wouldn't surprise me if they go back in a few years to see if they were able to cause an inflection point.

I hope they do. I'm a great believer in the idea that we medicinal chemists need all the help we can get, and if there are reasonable ring systems out there that we're not exploiting, then we should get to them. Adventurous chemists should have a look.

Comments (18) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Chemical News | Drug Industry History | The Scientific Literature

July 20, 2009

Everything In Its Place

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Posted by Derek

Things are pretty quiet around the industry these days, so my blogging thoughts have been turning to Big General Problems. And here's one that I know that people are working on, but which I think we as chemists are going to have to understand much better: localization.

"Say what?" is the usual response to that, but hear me out. What I mean is the trick that living cells use for their feats of multistep synthesis. Enzymes aren't generally just floating around hoping to bump into things - well, some of them are, but a lot of them are tied to specific regions. They're either membrane-bound, or they're expressed in structures where they don't get a lot of chances to diffuse out into the mix. The interior of a cell, on the whole, is a pretty intensely structured place (as it would have to be).

And that allows specific reactions to take place away from other things that might interfere, which is something that we have a hard time doing in the lab. If you have a five-step synthesis, it's a pretty safe bet that you don't dump the reagents for all five steps into the pot at the same time and hope for the best. No, we generally have to fish out the product and take it on separately. It's often a real achievement (especially on larger scale) to be able to "telescope" two steps into one flask and skip any sort of product isolation between them. Doing it with more than one step is even more rare (and more useful when you can bring it off).

There's been a lot of work on one-pot cascade or domino reaction systems, and that's a step toward what we need. But most of these cases are reaction-driven: people find chemistries that can be run in this fashion, and then try to exploit them to make whatever can be made. Nothing wrong with that, but it would be nice to have product-driven approaches, where you'd look at a particular structure and figure out which multicomponent reaction scheme would work best for it. Generally speaking, we just don't have enough worked-out systems to be able to do that.

And that's where I think that some new technologies could help, specifically flow chemistry and/or microfluidics. Instead of figuring out reactions that can exist while all stirring around together in one pot, this approach takes it as a given that many transformations probably just can't be done that way. And if you can't have one big reactor with multiple things in it, then why not make multiple reactors, each with a different thing in it? Flow systems can, in theory, send compounds through a series of isolated reactions, moving the material physically through various zones and reagents. Not every reaction is perfect of course, but you can often use scavenger reagents along the way to strip out potential interfering impurities before the next step.

I like the idea, but there are a lot of things to be done to make it work. Probably the most advanced organic synthesis that's being done is this style is in Steve Ley's lab at Cambridge. I always enjoy reading their flow papers, which make clear that there's some significant optimization that needs to be done before you can throw the switch and stand back. Some other multistep flow work can be found here and here, and the same comment applies: there's a lot of preparation involved.

My hope is that these kinds of things will eventually move toward more of a plug-and-play system, where you put in the various cartridges and choose a protocol from the list of best-general-fits for your planned reactions. We're quite a ways from that, but I don't see why it wouldn't be possible.

Comments (21) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Chemical News | Life in the Drug Labs

July 16, 2009

The Further In You Go, The Bigger It Gets

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Posted by Derek

I had a printout of the structure of maitotoxin on my desk the other day, mostly as a joke to alarm anyone who came into my office. "Yep, here's the best hit from the latest screen. . .I hear that you're on the list to run the chemistry end. . .what's that you say?"
Maitotoxin.jpg
This is, needless to say, one of the largest and scariest marine natural product structures ever determined (and that determination has been no stroll past the dessert table, either).

But that' hasn't stopped people from messing around with it. And there's much speculation that other people are strongly considering messing around with it, too - you synthetic chemists can guess the sorts of people that this might be, and their names, and what it might be like to sit through the seminars that result, and so on.

I fear that a total synthesis of maitotoxin would be largely a waste of time, but I'm willing to hear arguments against that position. Just looking at it, though, inspires thought. This eldrich beastie has 98 chiral centers. So let's do some math. If you're interested in the SAR of such molecules, you have your choice of (two to the 98th) possible isomers, which comes out to a bit over (3 times ten to the 29th) compounds. This is. . .a pretty large number. If you're looking for 10mg of each isomer to add to your screening collection (no sense in going back and making them again), then you're looking at a good bit over half the mass of the entire Earth. And that's just in sheer compounds; we're not counting the weight of vials, which will, I'd say, safely move you up toward the planetary weight of a low-end gas giant. We will ignore shelving considerations in the interest of time.

Recall that yesterday's post gave a number of about 27 million compounds below 11 heavy atoms. You could toss 27 million compounds into a collection of ten to the 29th and never see them again, of course. But that brings up two points: one, that the small-compound estimate ignores stereochemistry, and we've been getting those insane maitotoxin numbers by considering nothing but. The thing is, with only 11 non-hydrogen atoms, there aren't quite as many chances for things to get out of control. The GDB compound set goes up only to 110 million or so if you consider stereoisomers, which actually isn't nearly as much as I'd thought.

But the second point is that this shows you why the Berne group stopped at 11 heavy atoms, because the problem becomes intractable really fast as you go higher. It's worth remembering that the GDB people actually threw out over 98% of their scaffolds because they represented potential ring structures that are too strained to be very stable. And they only considered C, N, O and F as heavy atoms (even adding sulfur was considered too much to deal with, computationally). Then they tossed out another 98 or 99% of the structures that emerged from that enumeration as reactive and/or unstable. Relax your standards a bit, allow another atom or two, bump up the molecular weight, do any of those and you're going to exceed anyone's computational capacity. Update: the Berne group has just taken a crack at it, and managed a reasonable set up to 13 heavy atoms, with various simplifying assumptions to ease the burden. If you want to mess around with it, it's here, free of charge).

No, there are a lot of compounds out there. And if you look at the really big ones - and maitotoxin is nothing if not a really big one - there are whole universes contained just in each of them. (Bonus points for guessing the source of the name of the post, by the way).

Comments (24) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Chemical News | In Silico

June 30, 2009

Devils, Metals, and Details

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Posted by Derek

Organic synthesis as we know it can't go on without metal-catalyzed bond-forming reactions. There are too many of them, and they're just too useful. Palladium's the workhorse, followed by copper, then you've got rhodium, nickel, and a host of others (gold's been popular the last few years). We have a. . .fairly good idea of what's going on in these reactions, but not quite good enough. If we really understood all the factors involved, there wouldn't be six garbonzillion different sets of conditions for these things, would there?

A short paper's just come out in Angewandte Chemie that illustrates some of the trickiness involved. Carsten Bolm's group at Aachen has published several interesting iron-catalyzed coupling reactions using good old ferric chloride. These are aryl-amine, aryl-ether, aryl-amide and aryl-sulfide-forming procedures, which cover a lot of ground. (Interestingly, it was one of those sulfide papers that was recently plagiarized by another set of authors). But there were always a few kinks, such as variable yield depending on which bottle of ferric chloride was used.

Well, organometallic chemists are used to that sort of thing. But Bolm has gone back to look at things closely, in collaboration with Stephen Buchwald of MIT (whose group has published many similar couplings with other metal systems), and found a surprise. The iron chloride isn't doing a thing. In fact, as you go to more and more pure sources of the reagent, the yield drops off. But it never goes away, even with the 99.9% pure stuff. That's because it seems to be copper (I) contaminants doing the coupling, even at the parts-per-million level.

There are some startling tables in the paper. For coupling pyrazole onto an aryl iodide, for example, Bolm's group had found in 2007 that they could get 87% yield using >98% ferric chloride from E. Merck, along with dimethylethylene diamine as a cosolvent. If you use the >98% from Aldrich under the same conditions, though, you get 26% yield. And the Aldrich >99.99 stuff gives you only 9%. But if you add five ppm copper (I) oxide to that last reaction, the yield goes up to 78%. And if you leave the ferric chloride out completely, and just go with a trace of copper, the yield is exactly the same (it goes down if you run the same trace-of-copper without the diamine, which seems to be complexing it up into solution).

The other couplings that were reported seem to follow the same pattern. This must really be a disappointment to Bolm and his group, because their work was, among other things, an attempt to get away from copper and palladium. Still, this appears to be a much cleaner and more efficient copper reaction than a lot of the procedures out there.

This sort of thing has happened before in organometallic chemistry. There's a well-known example of nickel contamination in a chromium-mediated reaction from the mid-1980s, and more recently, a report of supposed "metal-free" couplings which appear to have been catalyzed by parts-per-billion levels of palladium found in the sodium carbonate being used as a base, of all things. Tricky things, these metals.

Comments (16) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Chemical News

May 14, 2009

TMS Diazomethane: Update On a Fatality

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Posted by Derek

I've been contacted by several people over the last few weeks about the TMS diazomethane-linked fatality in Nova Scotia (first written about here). Many more details are emerging about the case, chief among them that the fume hoods in the lab were apparently down for maintenance during this time.

Here's a newspaper article that's just appeared. I'm quoted in it as saying that I would have refused to work under such conditions, and I stand by that. But that's not surprising: in every industrial lab I've ever worked in, when the fume hoods go down, people roll their eyes and walk out the door. I most especially cannot recommend working with something like TMS diazomethane in such a situation.

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May 4, 2009

Writing With Triazoles

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Posted by Derek

I’ve written before about the copper-catalyzed triazole formation (often referred to as “click chemistry”). It’s turned into a very useful way to stick all sorts of molecules and structures together, and is showing up in materials science, biochemistry, organic synthesis and other fields.

Now Fraser Stoddart’s lab has a new variation on the technique, using atomic force microscopy (AFM) equipment. If you’re not familiar with that machinery (invented in the 1980s), it’s rather startling. An AFM rig uses a very fine metal tip (fine, as in “down to one atom or so at the end” fine), which is brought down very close to a solid surface. And that’s close as in “within the size of a molecule or so” close. Once you’re ranged in, you can run these tips around in any direction you choose, and a lot ingenious measurements can be obtained. Both modern surface and solid-state chemistry live off this family instruments, with good reason.

One thing you can imagine doing is lowering some sort of active catalyst down near the surface and doing chemical reactions. If you want to tear up the surface below in some controlled fashion, that’s a bit easier, through straight oxidation or reduction. Forming bonds is a bit trickier, but that’s been achieved with some palladium reactions. Now Stoddart’s group has gotten it to work with the triazole chemistry, and in very straightforward fashion.

If you take an azide-functionalized silicon wafer (and these are well known), you can then dissolve some acetylene compound up in ethanol and put a drop of it on the surface. And lowering an AFM tip which has simply been coated with copper metal down to the surface is enough to initiate the reaction. As the tip moves, it “writes” a path of triazoles. The conditions are very mild, the resolution of the lines is very high (down to about 50 nanometers wide), and it turns out that the reaction is so fast that the tip can be moved at relatively high speed.

This opens up a potential way to stick all sorts of molecules to solid surfaces. There are a lot of ways known to do that, of course, but this one could have some real advantages. The selectivity and high resolution seen here could allow for very dense and complicated arrays of complex molecules to be laid down. Since the triazole reaction is compatible with all sort of biomolecules, this could provide a way to produce functionalized chips that would currently be rather hard (or nearly impossible) to make. And now that we can make them, we can start thinking up unusual things to do with them.

Comments (7) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Chemical News

March 26, 2009

The Motions of a Protein

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Posted by Derek

So, people like me spend their time trying to make small molecules that will bind to some target protein. So what happens, anyway, when a small molecule binds to a target protein? Right, right, it interacts with some site on the thing, hydrogen bonds, hydrophobic interactions, all that – but what really happens?

That’s surprisingly hard to work out. The tools we have to look at such things are powerful, but they have limitations. X-ray crystal structures are great, but can lead you astray if you’re not careful. The biggest problem with them, though (in my opinion) is that you see this beautiful frozen picture of your drug candidate in the protein, and you start to think of the binding as. . .well, as this beautiful frozen picture. Which is the last thing it really is.

Proteins are dynamic, to a degree that many medicinal chemists have trouble keeping in mind. Looking at binding events in solution is more realistic than looking at them in the crystal, but it’s harder to do. There are various NMR methods (here's a recent review), some of which require specially labeled protein to work well, but they have to be interpreted in the context of NMR’s time scale limitations. “Normal” NMR experiments give you time-averaged spectra – if you want to see things happening quickly, or if you want to catch snapshots of the intermediate states along the way, you have a lot more work to do.

Here’s a recent paper that’s done some of that work. They’re looking at a well-known enzyme, dihydrofolate reductase (DHFR). It’s the target of methotrexate, a classic chemotherapy drug, and of the antibiotic trimethoprim. (As a side note, that points out the connections that sometimes exist between oncology and anti-infectives. DHFR produces tetrahydrofolate, which is necessary for a host of key biosynthetic pathways. Inhibiting it is espccially hard on cells that are spending a lot of their metabolic energy on dividing – such as tumor cells and invasive bacteria).

What they found was that both inhibitors do something similar, and it affects the whole conformational ensemble of the protein:

". . .residues lining the drugs retain their μs-ms switching, whereas distal loops stop switching altogether. Thus, as a whole, the inhibited protein is dynamically dysfunctional. Drug-bound DHFR appears to be on the brink of a global transition, but its restricted loops prevent the transition from occurring, leaving a “half-switching” enzyme. Changes in pico- to nanosecond (ps-ns) backbone amide and side-chain methyl dynamics indicate drug binding is “felt” throughout the protein.

There are implications, though, for apparently similar compounds having rather different effects out in the other loops:

. . .motion across a wide range of timescales can be regulated by the specific nature of ligands bound. Occupation of the active site by small ligands of different shapes and physical characteristics places differential stresses on the enzyme, resulting in differential thermal fluctuations that propagate through the structure. In this view, enzymes, through evolution, develop sensitivities to ligand properties from which mechanisms for organizing and building such fluctuations into useful work can arise. . .Because the affected loop structures are primarily not in contact with drug, it is reasonable to envision inhibitory small-molecule drugs that act by allosterically modulating dynamic motions."

There are plenty of references in the paper to other investigations of this kind, so if this is your sort of thing, you'll find plenty of material there. One thing to take home, though, is to remember that not only are proteins mobile beasts (with and without ligand bound to them), but that this mobility is quite different in each state. And keep in mind that the ligand-bound state can be quite odd compared to anything else the protein experiences otherwise. . .

Comments (3) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Biological News | Cancer | Chemical News | In Silico

March 24, 2009

Grabbing Onto A Protein's Surface

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Posted by Derek

I’ve written here before about the "click" triazole chemistry that Barry Sharpless’s group has pioneered out at Scripps. This reaction has been finding a lot of uses over the last few years (try this category for a few, and look for the word "click"). One of the facets I find most interesting is the way that they’ve been able to use this Huisgen acetylene/azide cycloaddition reaction to form inhibitors of several enzymes in situ, just by combining suitable coupling partners in the presence of the protein. Normally you have to heat that reaction up quite a bit to get it to go, but when the two reactants are forced into proximity inside the protein, the rate speeds up enough to detect a product.

Note that I said “inside the protein”. My mental picture of these things has involved binding-site cavities where the compounds are pretty well tied down. But a new paper from Jim Heath’s group at Cal Tech, collaborating with Sharpless and his team, demonstrates something new. They’re now getting this reaction to work out on protein surfaces, and in the process making what are basically artificial antibody-type binding agents.

To start with, they prepared a large library of hexapeptides out of the unnatural D-amino acids, in a one-bead-one-compound format. (Heath’s group has been working in this area for a while, and has experience dealing with these - see this PDF presentation for an overview of their research). Each peptide had an acetylene-containing amino acid at one end, for later use. They exposed these to a protein target: carbonic anhydrase II, the friend of every chemist who’s trying to make proteins do unusual things. The oligopeptide that showed the best binding to the protein’s surface was then incubated with the target CA II protein and another library of diverse hexapeptides. These had azide-containing amino acids at both ends, and the hope was that some of these would come close enough, in the presence of the protein, to react with the anchor acetylene peptide.

Startlingly, this actually worked. A few of the azide oligopeptides did do the click triazole-forming reaction. And the ones that worked all had related sequences, strongly suggesting that this was no fluke. What impresses me here is that (1) these things were lying on top of the protein, picking up what interactions they could, not buried inside a more restrictive binding site, and (2) the click reaction worked even though the binding constants of the two partners must not have been all the impressive. The original acetylene hexapeptide, in fact, bound at only 500 micromolar, and the other azide-containing hexapeptides that reacted with them were surely in the same ballpark.

The combined beast, though, (hexapeptide-triazole-hexapeptide) was a 3 micromolar compound. And then they took the thing through another round of the same process, decorating the end with a reactive acetylene and exposing it to the same azide oligopeptide library in the presence of the carbonic anhydrase target. The process worked again, generating a new three-oligopeptide structure which now showed 50 nanomolar binding. This increase in affinity over the whole process is impressive, but it’s just what you’d expect as you start combining pieces that have some affinity on their own. Importantly, when they made a library on beads by coupling the whole list of azide-containing hexapeptides with the biligand (through the now-standard copper-catalyzed reaction), the target CA II protein picked out the same sequences that were generated by the in situ experiment.

So what you have, in the end, is a short protein-like thing (actually three small peptides held together by triazole linkers) that has been specifically raised to bind a protein target – thus the comparison to antibodies above. What we don't know yet, of course, is just how this beast is binding to the carbonic anhydrase protein. It would appear to be stretched across some non-functional surface, though, because the triligand didn't seem to interfere with the enzyme's activity once it was bound. I'd be very interested in seeing if an X-ray structure could be generated for the triligand complex or any of the others. Heath's group is now apparently trying to generate such agents for other proteins and to develop assays based on them. I look forward to seeing how general the technique is.

This result makes a person wonder if the whole in situ triazole reaction could be used to generate inhibitors of protein-protein interactions. Doing that with small molecules is quite a bit different than doing it with hexapeptide chains, of course, but there may well be some hope. And there's another paper I need to talk about that bears on the topic; I'll bring that one up shortly. . .

Comments (7) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Biological News | Chemical News

February 27, 2009

Your Paper Is A Sack Of Raving Nonsense. Thank You.

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Posted by Derek

You don’t often get to see the sort of fistfight that’s detailed in the latest issue of Organic Process Research and Development. Patents whose procedures are hard to reproduce are familiar to every industrial chemist, unfortunately, but coming across one that seems completely mistaken in its most important details is rare. And this is the first time I’ve seen one of these dragged out into the open literature for a give-and-take with the original authors about whether they’re delusional or not. (The editors of the journal seem to be in new territory themselves on this one).

I should add here that the great majority of patent preps I’ve followed have worked pretty much as described, and I don’t think that my success rate in reproducing them is any worse than procedures from the chemical journals. Some journals more than others, of course, (another topic!) but OPRD is known to be very, very reproducible indeed. As it should be: it’s a journal for process chemists, whose livelihood is refining chemical routes until they’re scalable, economical, and (very importantly) until they work exactly the same way every time they’re run.

So here’s the situation. In 2007, the journal published a paper by a group from Dr. Reddy’s Laboratories, a large Indian company that does both generic drugs and has their own drug discovery operation. (There are, I should note, some academic co-authors who seem to have completely disappeared during this current food fight). The paper covered a synthesis of S-citalopram, and it caught the attention of the process chemists at Lundbeck, in Denmark. And well it might – citalopram (Celexa and other brand names), an antidepressant, was discovered there in the late 1980s, and has been generic since 2003.

The original paper (Eliati et al.) described a new alkylation reaction route to produce a key intermediate and a resolution of it (and of citalopram) into pure enantiomers by forming chiral salts. So far, so good – these sorts of things are the heart of process chemistry, and entirely appropriate for a paper in OPRD. But only if they work.

The Lundbeck group (Dancer and de Diego), had tried that exact resolution of citalopram many times themselves, though, without success, so they were rather taken aback to see it published as working just fine. They detail their attempts to reproduce the Eliati procedure, and demonstrate in great detail that it indeed does not work as written. I won’t go into their experimental work, which is very extensive and painstaking, but nothing the Lundbeck team could do resulted in anything better than a 55:45 mixture, which is a rather poor substitute for a pure compound. Midway through their paper, they start putting the word “resolution” in quotation marks when discussing the Eliati procedure, and the arm’s-length-and-holding-the-nose attitude is very successfully conveyed. The phrases “enormous disparity”, “effectively impossible”, “extremely unlikely”, and “not feasible in any meaningful, practical sense” all make appearances.

They also were surprised at the alkylation reaction reported in the Eliati paper, which is the only one of its kind reported in the literature – well, other than a patent by the same team from Dr. Reddy’s, that is. The weird thing about it is that it uses 3-chloropropylamine, apparently as the isolated free base. My chemistry audience will now be raising their eyebrows, because this is not a compound that you’d expect to be very happy as anything but a salt. It should, in fact, start reacting with itself quite vigorously, with plenty of HCl being given off in the process. But the Eliati procedure doesn’t have enough base to allow for anything else, and they use (supposedly) 12 grams of the stuff in 2.5 mL of DMSO. Since no paper or patent has ever reported isolation of this free base, it’s a rather odd compound to drop into your manuscript without explanation.

Another example of the same reaction in the Eliati paper is even weirder. Not only do they use this never-before-seen chloropropylamine, but this time they do the reaction in acetone, at 60 to 65 degrees C, by first adding 7.5 grams of potassium t-butoxide to 40 mL of the acetone. Now that prep should get the attention of the organic chemists in the audience, because that sounds like an excellent way to make a bunch of hot polymerized gunk. For one thing, acetone boils at 56, so how you get it to 65 is a real stumper. And adding a strong base to it is a surefire way to deprotonate it and start the famous aldol condensation (and every other base-catalyzed ketone reaction you can think of, for that matter). The Lundbeck group tried it, out of sheer curiosity, and got:

”. . . a vigorous/violent reaction. . .with the formation of a quantity of a white solid. (It had) an odor of higher ketones/alkenes, and analysis by NMR indicated that it was a complex mixture of products, with peaks consistent with condensation products of acetone.

A solid majority of the chemists reading that sentence, you can bet, finished reading that and added a “No shit” to the end. This is the sort of thing a sophomore undergraduate should be able to spot, and my guess is that whoever reviewed the Eliati paper for OPRD has had some interesting correspondence with the journal. The resolution is one thing – that’s impossible to spot if you haven’t worked with that exact reaction. But this alkylation step is ridiculous.

The journal gave Eliati and co-workers a chance to respond to all this, and followed that with a last word from Dancer and de Diego at Lundbeck. These things are all published back to back; it's like watching a boxing match. The Dr. Reddy’s group runs up the white flag immediately on the chiral salt resolution, actually, agreeing that their published procedure doesn’t work. But they claim that a modified version of the procedure does work, and that they “inadvertently missed incorporating a few words in the text” of the article which would have made this clear. The Lundbeck group isn’t buying this for a minute. They point out that the manuscript would have been had to have been substantially reworked to make it into this different procedure, for one thing. And even worse, the details of it as reported by Eliati are internally inconsistent, with the masses and ratios not even adding up. And finally, they report their own attempts to reproduce the new procedure, and find that it, too, is basically impossible.

And as for the alkylation, Eliati et al. claim that if you work quickly, you can use the chloropropylamine free base as they described. They also present a table showing how long it lasts under different conditions and in different solvents, and claim to have done the best variation of the reaction on a six-kilo scale. The acetone reaction, they admit, wasn’t as clean, but they didn’t spend much time talking about that because their “aim was to isolate the desired product instead of the aldol product.” Dancer and de Diego aren’t very happy with that either, continuing to insist that the acetone procedure is “completely unworkable”. As for the chloropropylamine, they welcome the clarifications in the second Eliati paper, but point out that said details contradict themselves at one point, and at any rate, none of them are to be found in the corresponding Dr. Reddy’s patent application, which continues to talk about using only the free base, and (on top of everything else) in a way that makes no sense.

The final Lundbeck reply has a telling line in the acknowledgements, which is, in its way, even more pointed than anything else in their paper: “One of us (R.J.D.) thanks Sir John Cornforth for inspiration derived from a series of his articles in a similar case some years ago.” That’s the famous “Some Comments on a Paper by Samir Chatterjee” affair, Tetrahedron Letters 1980 709 and 1982, 2213. Cornforth completely demolished some heterocyclic chemistry work by the unfortunate Chatterjee, pointing out by several lines of evidence that the whole thing had to have been faked. Name-dropping this example is about as direct a statement of your opinion as the scientific literature will allow. . .

Comments (43) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Chemical News | Drug Development | The Dark Side | The Scientific Literature

February 20, 2009

Hexacyclinol - Another Request

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Posted by Derek

I'm taking the day off from cranking out the medicines of tomorrow (OK, the day after tomorrow), so there will be no post today.

I did want to add something about yesterday's post on the La Clair/hexacyclinol controversy. I'd like to ask that people not fill up the comments with ad hominem remarks or potentially libelous statements about La Clair himself. I don't mind saying that the evidence so far makes it very hard for me to believe his original paper, and I also have to say that I haven't seen any convincing explanations for all the discrepancies that have turned up. And I think that those opinions are shared by many people who've followed the story.

But let's keep it on a scientific plane, if possible. Opinions on NMR spectra and the like are one thing, but personal insults are another, and those we don't need. I try not to have to go in and hose out the comments sections around here.

Comments (15) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Blog Housekeeping | Chemical News | The Scientific Literature

February 19, 2009

Hexacyclinol: A Forensic Case

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Posted by Derek

Remember hexacyclinol? Some readers are probably groaning and thinking “Oh, yes, indeed”, which may make up for the ones who are saying “Remember what?”

Hexacyclinol is a complex natural product, but after that statement the arguing begins. James La Clair published a synthesis of it in 2006 in Angewandte Chemie, one of the most prestigious chemistry journals, but the reception of the paper did nothing to help the prestige of either La Clair or the journal. Readers immediately seized on odd spectral data and experimental details to ask whether the molecule had been made at all and just how well the manuscript had been refereed.

The story got even messier later in the year when synthetic organic chemist Scott Rychnovsky weighed in with a paper suggesting that the structure of the natural product had been misassigned to start with. This was followed by a synthesis by John Porco and his group of his proposed structure, which turned out to match the NMR spectra of the original natural product. Since they also had an X-ray crystal structure, you would think that this would have ended the argument, at least at the level of what hexacyclinol looks like. The argument about what La Clair actually made, though, continued. And La Clair himself suggested that he and Rychnovsky had made two different molecules that just happened to have very similar NMR spectra.

Now a paper in Organic Letters is trying to clear that part of the story up, saying that ” indeed, the possibility that two molecules as complex as 1 and 2 may have indistinguishable NMR spectra carries an uneasy feel.” The authors, Giacomo Saielli and Allesandro Bagno from the University of Padova, return to the two proposed structures and calculate both their carbon and proton NMR spectra using what appear to be the best methods available for estimating their shifts and coupling constants.

The second structure fits much, much better, and the authors conclude that there is “hardly any doubt” that it’s the correct structure for hexacyclinol. In fact, they go further:

”The structure of hexacyclinol is confirmed to be 2. Furthermore, if 1 had been synthesized or was formed from an unforeseen reaction, its NMR spectra are sufficiently different from those of 2 as to guarantee their distinction.”

Note the “if it had been synthesized”. As far as I can tell, the remaining questions in this case aren't chemical. They're psychological. The original Ang. Chem. synthesis is certainly incapable of generating the real structure of hexacyclinol, but it also appears incapable of making the structure it claims to have made. Taken together with its original odd features, you have to wonder just what it was: a hoax? An odd and pointless work of fiction? Self-deception? We’ll probably never know. All we know is what it isn't.

For more reactions oto this latest news, see The Curious Wavefunction and The Chemistry Blog.

Comments (42) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Chemical News | The Scientific Literature

February 3, 2009

The Original Nanotechnology

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Posted by Derek

Organic chemists, my tribe, have accomplished a lot. But we’ve managed to convince people that we’ve accomplished even more than we have. The general assumption seems to be that we can pretty much make anything, given enough effort. Considering some of the awful molecules that have been made, I can see where that opinion comes from – mind you, as has been discussed around here, many of the toughest molecules have been made by terrible human-wave tactics and unscalable grad school conditions. But they have been made.

So, given unlimited time and money (and cruelty), I suppose it’s true that we can make most anything. But, as many spoilsports keep pointing out, these hideous natural product molecules that take us so long are also being made under much more impressive conditions. But not by us. That hit me when I was in graduate school myself, working on a macrolide antibiotic structure. Reading up on the stuff, I found that it had been isolated by culturing a bacterium from a soil sample taken from a Texas golf course. I got to thinking about that. Here I was, slaving away nights, days, weekends and holidays to get within hailing distance of the structure, and this prokaryote was sitting around in the dirt of the fourteenth green, listening to golfers curse while making my molecule at ambient temperature, in water, and at the same time doing everything else it needed to do to stay alive. Worth thinking about, it was.

I realized then what others had already been saying: that our best synthetic methods really didn’t stand up to what enzyme systems were capable of. Years of medicinal chemistry have done nothing to alter that opinion. Everyone in this line of work has seen what the liver enzymes can do to our carefully constructed molecules, reaching in and oxidizing them to make them sluice out in the urine more quickly. And those transformations are things that, for the most part, we just can’t do. Can you pick up a complex molecule and selectively put a para-hydroxyl on just one of its aryl rings? Nope, me neither. Can you make an epoxide out of benzene (without tearing everything else to shreds?) I doubt it; I sure can’t.

No, the more you know about chemistry, the more humble you feel when you look at enzymes. There’s no substitute for holding down the molecule and working on one part of it with hammer and tongs – it’s a totally different world than the bulk solution-phase stuff that we do in our reaction vessels. Enzymes are the original nanotechnology. They give us something to aspire to.

Comments (37) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Chemical News

January 27, 2009

A Long Tail Indeed

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Posted by Derek

A reader reminded me of this paper, which I meant to blog on when it came out last year. The authors looked over the entire Chemical Abstracts Service registry file – in theory, every compound that’s ever been reported in the chemical literature – and asked how many different chemical scaffolds make up the organic chemistry part of the collection. (That ran to a bit over 24 million compounds at the time the paper was written).

You’d expect a power-law (“long tail”) distribution in a data set like this, and that’s just what they found. Among heteroatom-containing scaffolds, the most common 5% were found in about 75% of the compounds. In fact, it was even steeper than that – the most common 0.25% of the heteroatom frameworks made up half the compounds! The flip side of this is that about half of the known scaffolds occur only once, which is about as long a tail as you can get.

That’s almost completely accounted for by (1) the availability of certain starting materials, largely from petroleum and from natural products and (2) the interest in preparing a given framework. Put more crassly, it depends on how much it’ll cost (in time and money), and how much you expect to get back. As the authors put it:

” We believe the presence of this power law is quantitative evidence that the minimization of synthetic cost has been a key factor in shaping the known universe of organic chemistry.”

Tiny variations can send a given scaffold diving off the charts. Think, for example, about the usual steroid framework – there have been a huge number of variations worked on that, since they’re of medical interest and the starting materials are available (thanks, in the early days, to some Mexican yams and their biggest fan). But imagine going in and replacing one or two of those carbon atoms with nitrogens: whoosh, down you go. Many of those frameworks have hardly been touched at all, partly because they’re quite difficult to make. You’d have to have a very good reason to go after them, and that hasn’t presented itself. Meanwhile, the vast numbers of indoles, piperazines, and piperidines in drug molecules help to perpetuate themselves.

The same goes, and even more so, for general compound shapes (heteroatoms or all-carbon). The authors found 836708 different framework shapes, but that breaks down rather sharply: half the compounds are accounted for by 143 frameworks, and the other 836565 make up the other half. I’ll let the authors have the last word:

”It seems plausible to expect that the more often a framework has been used as the basis for a compound, the more likely it is to be used in another compound. If many compounds derived from a framework have already been synthesized, these derivatives can serve as a pool of potential starting materials for further syntheses. The availability of published schemes for making these derivatives, or the existence of these derivatives as commercial chemicals, would then facilitate the construction of more compounds based on the same framework. Of course, not all frameworks are equally likely to become the focus of a high degree of synthetic activity. Some frameworks are intrinsically more interesting than others due to their functional importance (e.g., as a building block in drug design), and this interest will stimulate the synthesis of derivatives. Once this synthetic activity is initiated, it may be amplified over time by a rich-get-richer process. . .”

Comments (5) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Chemical News | Drug Industry History | The Scientific Literature

January 23, 2009

The Real Hazards of the Lab

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Posted by Derek

A run of bad accident news today, and all of the same kind. The Chemistry Blog has the story of a fatality in the labs at UCLA. The short and painful details are: inexperienced student, t-butyllithium, flammable clothing, and panic (as in not running toward the safety shower).

This is very sad to hear about, and as with so many lab accidents, one of the saddest parts is how easily it could have been prevented. t-BuLi is, of course, a well-known fire starter, and the student did know about that problem. But one of the keys to working with dangerous substances is to think through what you’ll do if something goes wrong. For a pyrophoric compound, that means knowing where the nearest fire extinguisher and safety shower are. It’s very easy to panic when something goes wrong, but if you’ve rehearsed what to do beforehand, you have a much better chance of doing the right thing in tough circumstances.

I pass this along to the students who read this site, and I’m sure the other experienced lab workers here will agree: always think “OK, what’s the worst thing that can go wrong with this reaction?”, and think about what you’ll do if that happens. Fire? Explosion? Sudden leak of nasty toxic stuff? Think it over. Anyone working in a laboratory should always know where the nearest fire extinguisher is. That is, the nearest appropriate one – if you’ve got a separate Class D model for metal fires, or even just a sand bucket, then when you need it you’re really going to need it. And everyone should know where the nearest safety shower is, because no one ever just sort of needs to use one of those. I’ve had to run and pull one once in my career, and let me tell you, it was a damned good thing that I knew where to go when the chips were down.

The other news I have was communicated to me privately, so I won’t go into details other than to say that it appears to be another fatality, this time involving inhalation exposure to trimethylsilyl diazomethane. The problem with these sorts of reagents is that you might think that they’d cause breathing trouble immediately, but you’d be wrong. Diazomethane, phosgene, methyl bromide and others can actually take hours to kill a person, and for a good part of that time, the only symptoms might be a slight cough. But serious lung damage can be coming on slowly during that period, and by the time it’s clear that there’s a problem it’s usually too late to do very much about it. Unfortunately, in some cases, it’s too late right from the start, but that takes quite a bit of exposure, and indicates a serious mistake somewhere along the line.

Anyone who works with such volatile and damaging reagents needs to be completely aware of what they’re doing, and to only handle them under good ventilation. I’ve used such things many, many times in my career, without incident, and so have most working organic chemists. But we should never lose respect for what we’re holding in our hands.

I’m not trying to scare beginning chemists out of doing lab work. It has it hazards, but so does driving to work in the morning or cutting up food for dinner. (When I was in graduate school, my mother once expressed her worries about my lab work, but I told her that the most dangerous thing I did was to drive 650 miles back home on holidays). But every well-appointed chemistry lab is full of death in screw-capped bottles, and that bears thinking about. Random, unforeseeable accidents are, fortunately, very rare. But that means that the others didn’t have to happen, and that’s painful to contemplate.

Comments (61) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Chemical News | Graduate School | Life in the Drug Labs

January 22, 2009

The Great Acetonitrile Shortage

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Posted by Derek

Now here’s a news item that I’m pretty sure you haven’t heard about unless you work in or near a laboratory. We’re in the middle of an extreme shortage of acetonitrile, a common solvent. This has been going on since back in the fall, but instead of gradually getting better, it’s been gradually getting worse: major suppliers are sending out letters like this one (PDF).

What’s the stuff good for? Well, it’s used on a manufacturing scale in some processes, so they’re in trouble for sure. Acetonitrile is a good solvent, since it’s fairly powerful at dissolving things but still reasonable low-boiling. (That’s the nitrile functional group for you; there’s nothing else quite like it). It’s no DMSO, but then again, DMSO’s boiling point is three times a lot higher, and compared to acetonitrile it pours like pancake syrup. Nobody does industrial-scale chemistry in DMSO if they can possibly help it.

Those properties mean that acetonitrile/water mixtures are ubiquitous in analytical and prep-sized chromatography systems. This is surely its most widespread use, and is causing the most widespread consternation as the shortage becomes more acute. Many people are switching to methanol/water, which usually works, but can be a bit jumpier. But that’s not always an option. Labs working under regulatory-agency controls (GLP / GMP) have a very hard time changing analytical methods without triggering a blizzard of paperwork and major delays. In many companies, it’s those people who are first in line for what acetonitrile may turn up.

So why are we going dry on the stuff? There seem to be several reasons, one of which, interestingly, is the summer Olympics. The industrial production that the Chinese government shut down to improve Beijing’s air quality seems to have included a disproportionate amount of the country’s acetonitrile production (for example). A US facility on the Gulf Coast was shut down during Hurricane Ike as well. But on top of these acute reasons, there's a secular one: yep, the global economic slowdown. A lot of acetonitrile comes as a byproduct of acrylonitrile production, which is used in a lot of industrial resins and plastics. Those go into making car parts, electronic housings, all sorts of things that are piling up in inventory and thus not being turned out at the rates of a year ago.

So taken together, there’s not much acetonitrile to be had out there. We’ve seen some glitches like this in the past, naturally, since chemical production can depend on a limited number of plants and on raw material prices. When I was an undergraduate, I remember professors complaining aboiut the price of silver reagents during the attempted Hunt brothers corner of that market, for example. But this one will definitely be near the top of the list, and it could be months before the Great Acetonitrile Drought lifts. If you've been saving some in your basement, it’s time to break it out.

Comments (108) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Analytical Chemistry | Chemical News

January 20, 2009

Diversity-Oriented Synthesis: Oriented The Right Way?

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Posted by Derek

Ever hear of Diversity-Oriented Synthesis? It’s an odd bird. DOS tries to maximize the number of structures and scaffolds produced from a given synthetic scheme – to find the most efficient ways to populate the largest amount of chemical space. In a way, it’s the contrapositive of natural product synthesis, which focuses all its effort into producing one specific molecule at a time. I should add that DOS isn’t about producing mixtures; its goal is discrete compounds, but plenty of them, and all over the map. (Here's more background from David Spring at Cambridge).

The point of this is to increase the diversity of compounds libraries for biological screening. And that’s traditionally been the concern of the drug companies, but (as far as I can tell) there’s very little DOS going on inside the industry. All the publications in the field, at any rate, seem to come from academia. Companies certainly do care about the diversity of their screening libraries, but they don’t seem to be addressing the issue through the “maximum diversity in the fewest steps” philosophy.

There’s a recent paper in Ang. Chem. that will give you a good flavor of what’s going on in this area. A group led by Adam Nelson at Leeds has published an interesting approach that relies on olefin metathesis. An ingenious use of protecting groups and sequential metathesis reactions builds up a wide variety of structural backbones pretty quickly. (Another key feature is the use of fluorous tagging for purification, which will be the topic of another future post around here). Metathesis was certainly a good choice, since that gives you a chance to form a lot of carbon-carbon bonds in a lot of ways, all using basically the same reaction conditions. In just a few steps (around five or six) they ended up with about 80 quite different scaffolds.

Stuart Schreiber, an early advocate of DOS, wrote up a “News and Views” piece for Nature about this paper, and he makes the case this way:

” The resulting products differ from the compounds found in most small-molecule screening collections. Typically purchased from commercial vendors, the compounds in such collections frequently lack chirality and are structurally simple. This means that they can bind to only a small number of biological targets. The compounds in commercial libraries also tend to be structurally similar — their 'diversity' is limited to variations in appendages attached to a small number of common skeletons. This undesirable combination of properties means that, although enormous numbers of compounds (often more than a million) are frequently tested in screenings, at great expense, in the case of undruggable targets relatively few biologically active 'hits' are found. In principle, a smaller library of compounds that contains a more diverse range of molecular shapes, such as those made by Morton et al., would provide both more hits for less money, and hits for the more challenging biological targets.”

I see where Schreiber is coming from, but there are some details being overlooked here. One big point is that smaller compounds actually tend to hit more targets, just not with as much absolute potency: that's the whole idea behind fragment-based drug design. Larger, more complex molecules tend to be more selective, but when they happen to fit, they can fit very well indeed. You need a huge pile of them to have a chance of finding one of those, though. (I think that a happy medium would be a DOS approach to not-very-large compounds, but that doesn't give you that much room to maneuver).

Another point is that the key thing about the collections you can buy is that they often depend on just a few bond-forming reactions. You get an awful lot of amides, ureas, and sulfonamides, since by gosh, those sure can be cranked out. To me, that’s the first thing that makes the Leeds compounds stand out: none of these classic library-making transformations was exploited. Unfortunately, the other things that make the Leeds compounds stand out aren’t necessarily good. For one thing, there are no basic nitrogens in any of the structures. The paper lists a big class of azacycles, but in every case, the nitrogens are capped with nosyl groups, which completely wipe out their character. And while it’s true that you can get biological activity without nitrogen, you’ll get a lot more with it. A useful extension of the chemistry would be to use some sort of (update: more easily) removable group on the nitrogens, so that each scaffold could be unmasked at the end – that would give you the basic nitrogens back, and you could then make a few amides and the like off of them for good measure.

The compound set is also heavy on alkenes, which isn't surprising, given the metathesis chemistry. There's nothing wrong with those per se, but it would be worth taking all the scaffolds through a hydrogenation reaction to saturate the bonds, giving you another compound set. Alternatively, if you want to be a real buckaroo, take them through a Simmon-Smith reaction and turn them into cyclopropanes - that could be messy, but cyclopropanes are very much under-represented in compound libraries, compared to how many of them could potentially exist. A bigger problem is that one of the linking groups the Leeds team uses is a silyl ketal. That’s not the most chemically attractive group in the world, nor the most stable, and as a medicinal chemist I would have avoided it.

That brings up another point about well, the point of these libraries. Schreiber makes the pitch that if we're going to do chemical biology on the tougher interaction targets (protein-protein, protein-nucleic acid, and so on), then we're going to need all the chemical diversity we can get. That's hard to dispute! But a lot depends on whether these compounds are meant to be in vitro tools, or real leads for drug discovery. You can put up with silyl ketals (or worse) if the former, but not for the latter. (Many medicinal chemists would say that if you have some functional group that you're just going to have to remove, then don't put it in there in the first place).

And that's the gap between academia and industry on this approach, right there. The in vitro tools, used to discover pathways and interactions, are more the province of the university labs, and the drug leads are more the concern of industry. As it stands now, the drug company folks look at many of the DOS libraries and say "Hmm. . .sort of, but not quite". That's probably going to change, and if I had to guess, I'd say that one way into industrial practice might be through chemical vendors. There are a number of companies who make their livings by offering unique building block compounds to the drug industry - as DOS matures, these people may sense a commercial opportunity and move in.

Comments (48) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Chemical News | Drug Assays

January 16, 2009

Short Items: Viral NMR, Alarming Rings, Cheap Reading, Etc.

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Posted by Derek

From PNAS, here’s an ingenious method that’s allowed NMR-based imaging of particles as small as viruses. I didn’t even think that this was possible – so now that it is, look for all kinds of variations on it over the next few years, as is the way of NMR techniques. Single-cell MRI? As the authors (from IBM) point out, this is a sudden 100-million-fold improvement in volume resolution compared to conventional NMR. It always makes me smile to see that things like this can happen.

This one should go into my “Things I Won’t Work With” folder immediately. Courtesy of Pat Dussault, whose lab has been turning out alarming stuff like this for some years now, we have six-membered rings made up of two carbons and four oxygens. There is no way to do that without putting on protective gear, needless to say – the only question is which stylish ensemble to wear.

James Tour unveils the off-road version of the nanocar.

And finally, I wanted to pass along this scientific reading suggestion to everyone. If you’re into magnetic resonance properties of silicon isotopes, you can read the book. After all, the list price is only $8539.00 (and don't forget, it's eligible for Free Super Saver Shipping!) But the rest of us can enjoy the Amazon reviews, which range from very satisfied customers (“My only question was whether one copy would be enough”) to very unsatisfied indeed. . .

Comments (22) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Chemical News | General Scientific News

June 9, 2008

An Impressive Nanolist of Nanocitations

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Posted by Derek

Time for just a brief piece this morning, about a topic I've mentioned before which is getting more noticeable all the time. If you follow the papers coming out in the Journal of the American Chemical Society (known as "Jay-ay-cee-ess" or just plain "Jacks" to the working chemist), you've been seeing an awful lot of nano-scale work. Nanorods, nanoprisms, nanoarrays of nanocrystals. The percentage of these things has, to my eye, just been rising steadily. Try the ASAP section and see what you think.

And what's interesting about these papers, completely apart from their subject matter, is that they're surely headed for obscurity in almost every case. That's not because nanoscience is going nowhere (quite the contrary, I think). It's because things are in such an early stage still. There are so many small steps to be made, many of which will turn out to have been in the wrong direction. Even the work that leads to something will be cited for its historical interest (". . .the first report of nanoscale battleaxes, now a crucial part of the world economy, came as early as 2008. . .").

This is the era when this work can be published. Much earlier and we wouldn't have been able to characterize these structures, and much later it'll seem trivial. (I know, some of it seems trivial on arrival - there are still a lot of chemists who roll their eyes and groan when they see this stuff). And boy, are people taking advantage of this window of opportunity. It has to be a good thing, in general, that there's so much work going on in so many different directions. I'm just glad that I don't have to figure out which of these seeds are going to bloom. . .

Comments (9) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Chemical News

May 15, 2008

Copper: A Gentleman's Disagreement

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Posted by Derek

I was running a copper-catalyzed coupling reaction the other day when my summer intern asked me how it worked. I showed her the mechanism that the authors of the paper had proposed, but pointed out that it was mostly hand-waving. The general features are probably more or less right: the copper iodide presumably does form some kind of soluble complex with the amino acid that’s needed in the reaction mix, and that may well form some sort of complex with the aryl halide, which opens up the ring to nucleophilic substitution, etc. If this were an exam, I’d give full points for that one.

But a lot of these couplings are, as I pointed out to her, very hazily worked out. The Ullman reaction, in various forms, has been with us for many decades, and there are more variations on it than you can count. If it always worked reasonably well, or if people had any strong ideas about how it did so, the literature on it wouldn’t be in the shaggy shape it is. Copper chemistry in particular has been (simultaneously) a very useful area for people to discover new reactions, and a horrible trackless swamp for people trying to explain how they work.

All you have to do is look at the vicious exchanges between Bruce Lipschutz and Steve Bertz during the 1990s about whether such as thing as a “higher-order cuprate” exists. I have absolutely no intention of reconstructing this argument; I would have to be paid at a spectacular hourly rate to even attempt it. It's enough to say that the arguments raged, in an increasingly personal manner, about what state the copper metal was in, what ligands coordinated to it, and what the active form of these reagents might be (as opposed to what the bulk of the mixture was at any given time). It culminated in what must be one of the most direct titles for a scientific paper I've ever seen: It's on lithium! An answer to the recent communication which asked the question: 'if the cyano ligand is not on copper, then where is it?'. That's in Chemical Communications 7, 815 (1996), if you're interested (here's the PDF for subscribers). Bertz continued to shell Lipshutz's position past the time when any fire was being returned, as far as I can tell, and continues to work in the area. Lipshutz, for his part, hasn't published on the higher-order cuprates in some time (being no doubt heartily sick of the whole topic), but has kept up a steady stream of work on new reactions involving copper, nickel, and other metals.

So if well-qualified researchers, brimming with grad students, postdocs, and grant money, can argue for years about copper mechanisms, I'm going to stay out of it. As time goes on, I'm increasingly indifferent to reaction mechanisms, anyway. I want to get product out the other end of the reaction. And while there are times when knowing the mechanism can help reach that goal, those times do not occur as frequently as you might hope.

Comments (13) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Chemical News | Inorganic Chemistry | Life in the Drug Labs

February 21, 2008

New Tricks With Glassware

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Posted by Derek

leycolumn.jpgCourtesy of Steve Ley’s group, here’s a lab trick I’d never come across before. They were trying to purify a nasty mixture of closely related isomers, and found that the best chromatographic separation came from a long, long, run in ether/hexane. I’ve been in that situation myself, but it’s hard to have the patience to run a large column for such a long time, and it’s even harder to evaporate down the ridiculous amounts of solvent that you generate. (Even experienced organic chemists tend to underestimate how long that last part can take).

Ley’s group hit on an interesting solution. They loaded the crude material from a 42-gram reaction onto silica gel, and hooked a water-cooled condenser up to the top of the column. Under the condenser was a one-liter flask of 1:1 ether/pentane, heated to reflux. Those two solvents form an azeotropic mixture (about 1:1) that happens to match up well with the solvent brew needed for the column. This way, fresh solvent was continuously dripping down through the column, which was rigged to elute back into the flask of boiling solvent.

Chemists will recognize this as a variation of the Soxhlet extraction, and a rather ingenious one. To switch fractions, you turn off the heat, pour out the 1-liter flask, and charge it up with fresh pentane and ether. The solvents are so low-boiling that the material coming off the column doesn’t decompose while it’s cooking around in there in between. With one kilo of silica gel, they ran the column at about 80 mL per minute, and cut fractions about every 7 hours. (Told you it was a slow column!). After five days of this, they’d separated out their isomers. That took them out to 19 fractions, which seemed to be enough, but it turned out that washing the column with acetone furnished a pretty good amount of the final (most polar) component (which was presumably coming out very dilute by that point).

They used about 17 liters of solvent, which is a fair amount of rota-vapping, but is nothing compared to the 590 liters that would have been used under normal column conditions. (No one would have been able to put up with that). This idea will probably always have limited application – there are only so many solvents (or solvent mixtures) that can be used, for one thing. And in many cases people will grit their teeth and turn to large-scale HPLC when it’s available. (That’ll use more solvent than this, but less than an old-fashioned column, in most cases). But if someone had thought of this technique back in, say, 1955, it would have been everywhere.

And it could still be especially useful in academic labs, where labor is cheaper than solvent, and worth considering elsewhere. I’m always glad to see something new constructed out of the sort of equipment that’s in the drawers of every lab bench.

Comments (15) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Chemical News

February 12, 2008

DNA Forklifts, DNA Pliers

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Posted by Derek

Manipulating nanoscale objects is a very hot research area these days, but no one’s quite sure whether it should be called physics or chemistry. The single-atom stuff (like the famous 1989 spelling of I-B-M using an early scanning tunneling microscope tip) would probably be the former, while moving whole molecules around would probably be the latter.

Now we’re to the point where you might consider it biology, since several recent papers describe ingenious uses of DNA as nanoscale pliers and Velcro. A report in Science from a group in Munich, demonstrates a nanoscale depot on a chip, formed by short DNA strands bound to its surface. Various molecules are tagged with complementary single strands of DNA. When you bring the two close enough, they hybridize, winding together spontaneously into a small double helix, which Velcros each molecule down to a defined position.

The second key to the work is that each of the molecules has a second, different DNA strand bonded to its other side. This one is complementary to a single strand attached to the tip of an atomic force microscope, so when that moves in close enough, those two hybridize as well. For the moment, the target is bound front and back.

But here's the trick: the two DNA helices are engineered so that the double helix on the bottom opens base-by-base, like a zipper, while the one on the AFM tip shears off all at once. That gives them different strengths, so when you pull up on the AFM tip, you can see the force profile of the "zipper" strand giving way as the attached molecule pulls free. Now it's dangling from the tip of the AFM, its newly freed DNA strand waving in the, uh, nano-breeze, I guess.
DNAchip.jpg
This was now moved to another portion of the chip, where more DNA strands awaited. These, like the tip strands, where also in the stonger "shear" geometry, but these were even longer, with more residues to wrap up with that free DNA strand on the molecule of interest. Lowering the two into proximity caused them to hybridize, and now pulling up on the tip caused the tip strand to unwind instead, leaving the molecule stuck on the new location on the chip. The AFM tip could then be sent back to the depot to pick up another molecule, and so on. (The illustration, courtesy of Science for nonprofit use, will give you the idea). The fluorescent molecules they used could then be imaged on the chip, confirming that they'd been arranged as expected.

The whole process took care, as you can imagine. The team kept the number of DNA strands on the tip quite low, in order to have a better idea of what was going on. Under their conditions, about one-third of the time, they picked up just one unit from the “warehouse”, and another twenty per cent of the time they got two at once. In the dropoff step at the new location, they sometimes noticed that no extra force was needed to pull the tip up, which indicated that they hadn't make a connection. In those cases, a shift of the tip assembly a few nanometers one way or another generally brought things within range for a successful transfer. It's not like you can see what's going on - light itself doesn't come small enough to let you do that in the normal sense - so you just have to feel your way along.

This is an early proof of concept, so it's not like we're going to be assembling nanomachines next week through this technique. (The DNA tags, for one thing, are rather large compared to the molecules that they're attached to). But the idea is there, and the idea works. We're starting to move single molecules around to where we want them to go, and making them stay put once they've been delivered.

Comments (1) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Chemical News | General Scientific News

December 17, 2007

Le Dernier Cri

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Posted by Derek

There are plenty of chemical reagents and reactions that go in and out of fashion over the years, and even entire elements. For the last couple of years, it’s been gold – ten years ago, gold-catalyzed reactions were a backwater, and now they’re all over the literature. (Catalysts are the way to go; reactions that need excess gold to run are unlikely to catch on). Hardly an issue of Organic Letters goes by these days without some gold-catalyzed cyclization in it. But there are some elements that have never been in fashion, and odds are that they’re never going to be.

Tellurium comes to mind. It does some interesting reactions, and if it wasn’t rather poisonous and if its compounds didn’t stink beyond the ability of anyone to stand them, I’m sure that we would have discovered even more. But it is and they do, and there’s no way to stop either one, so no one’s going to make the effort any time soon. It’s the stench that really seals the deal, actually. Poisonous we work with all the time, but you don’t come across stuff that smells like organotelluriums very often, or so I hear. I’ve never had the pleasure myself.

And as for lab fashions, it’s also safe to say the day of the heavy metals is past. Mercury has a long, long pedigree in both organic and inorganic chemistry – back to the alchemists, actually. Everyone figured that there must be something special and/or magical about a metal that’s liquid at room temperature. They were right, in a way. Mercury does a lot of interesting reactions which are still taught in sophomore organic classes and are still run once in a while. I’ve done a few organomercurations myself, but most of them were years ago in grad school. I’ve only reached for the mercuric chloride once or twice in the last twenty years. That’s doubtless because I’m in the drug industry, but I think that the general use of the element has been trending down because of waste disposal issues. Lead, for its part, never had as much use in the art as mercury, and will probably never get the chance.

It’s not just the heavy metals, either. Beryllium is probably one of the most underused elements in the whole periodic table, as far as organic chemistry is concerned. Considering its spot up near the light end of the periodic table, where all its neighbors are on every lab shelf, you’d think that there’d at least be something you could do with the stuff. But I can’t think of a single reaction I’ve ever seen that uses it. The element’s peculiar toxicity (which mostly seems to be a problem by inhalation) helps keep it out of the spotlight: no organic chemist has ever found a need for it that outweighs its disadvantages, and not many are motivated to try.

None of these are going to be the next hot thing. But what is? Gold’s turn in the organic chemistry spotlight will end at some point – for all I know, things are already slowing down. If I had to guess, I’d pick another candidate from the precious-metal crowd, and I’ll nominate iridium. There are plenty of iridium-based catalysts, but none of them are the absolute first thing a chemist reaches for. It wouldn’t surprise me a bit if the element turned out to have a number of tricks in it that haven’t been discovered yet. They should at least be worth some JACS and Org Lett papers, that’s for sure. . .

Comments (20) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Chemical News | The Scientific Literature

November 2, 2007

One For the Brave

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Posted by Derek

B-N%20structure.gifI was interested to see a recent paper in Organic Letters on a class of compounds I'd never seen before: 1,2-dihydro-1,2-azaborines. There's the structure, in case that doesn't immediately call something to mind.

These things, which are isoelectronic with benzene, were made by the Liu group at Oregon. Their method (ring-closing metathesis) for making them seems superior to the rather sparse techniques that have been available up until now, and they've prepared a number of useful and interesting intermediates. They're rather stable - even the B-H compound with an N-ethyl group, the simplest in the paper, can be run down a silica gel column. An X-ray structure shows that the ring is indeed flat, and it seems to be aromatic and delocalized.

So. . .what I'd like to know is, who's going to be the first person wild-eyed enough to put this in a drug candidate structure? Boron has a bad reputation ("boron for morons", as they say), but hey, Millennium is out there making money with Velcade, a boronic acid. I have absolutely no idea what the fate of this heterocycle is in vivo, what its toxicity might be or what it gets metabolized to (if anything). And neither do you, nor does anyone. Let's find out!

Comments (11) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Chemical News | Odd Elements in Drugs

October 10, 2007

Ertl Wins: Down With Witchcraft

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Posted by Derek

As some had speculated, the Nobel in chemistry did take a turn toward physical chemistry this year, for the first time in some while. Gerhard Ertl has won for his work on reactions that take place on solid surfaces, an extremely important (and extremely difficult) field of research.

It’s hard because chemists and physicists have an easier time of it with bulk phases – all solid, liquid, or gas. When you start mixing them, or start trying to understand what happens where they meet, things get tricky. The border between two phases is very different from what’s on either side of it. The key zone is only a few atoms thick, and the interesting stuff there happens extremely quickly.

But some of the most important chemical reactions in the world take place down there. Take the Haber-Bosch process for producing ammonia – “Right,” I’m sure some readers of today’s newspaper are saying, “you take the Haber-Bosch process, whatever it is, and get it out of here.” But by making ammonia from nitrogen in the air, it led to (among other things) the invention of man-made fertilizers. That reaction has kept billions of people from starving to death, and kept huge swaths of wilderness from being turned into farmland. (Read up on Norman Borlaug if you haven’t already for more on this).

You can Haber-Bosch yourself some ammonia simply enough – just take iron powder, mix it with some drain cleaner (potassium hydroxide) and stir that up with some alumina and finely ground sand (silica). Heat it up to several hundred degrees and blow nitrogen and hydrogen across it; ammonia gas comes whiffing out the other end. Now, bacteria do this at room temperature in water, down around the roots of bean plants, but bacteria can do a lot of things we can’t do. For human civilization, this is a major achievement, because nitrogen does not want to do this reaction at all.

The industrial process was discovered in its earliest form nearly one hundred years ago, and was the subject of a Nobel all its own. But no one knew how it worked, which is a good example of how difficult surface interface work can be. You can see what has to happen eventually: the triple bond between two nitrogen atoms has to be broken and replaced by three bonds to hydrogen, whose own H-H bond is also broken. But that nitrogen triple is one of the strongest bonds in all of chemistry, so how is it breaking? Do the nitrogen molecules soak into the iron somehow, and if so, what does “soak in” mean on an atomic level, anyway? Do they sit on the surface, instead – and if they do, what keeps them there? Is that triple bond still in force when that happens, or has it started to break? If so, what on earth is strong enough on the surface of iron powder to do that? Where’s the hydrogen during all this, and how does its single bond get broken? What happens first, and why do you need the hydroxide and the other stuff? And so on.

Ertl and others had long studied hydrogen’s behavior on metal surfaces, while helping to figure out how catalytic hydrogenation works. (That was a reaction accurately described to me as an undergraduate in 1981 as “witchcraft”, and Ertl is one of the people who have helped to exorcise it). So they’d seen how hydrogen got broken into individual atoms and spread between iron atoms on the surface – the surprise for him and his co-workers was that nitrogen turned out to do the same thing, breaking that fearsome triple bond in the process. The biggest step in the whole mechanism happened very early. By running the reaction forward and in reverse (turning ammonia back into nitrogen and hydrogen, an otherwise perverse act for the most part), they were able to work out all the individual steps and the energies involved. Along the way, they figured out what the potassium hydroxide was doing in there, too (donating some key electrons to the iron atoms).

Observing this and other surface processes has pushed the limits of several spectroscopic techniques, such as Auger electron spectroscopy (AES), low-energy electron diffraction (LEED), various forms of photoelectron spectroscopy, and others. Ertl's work has been notable for using a wide variety of methods, since there's no one tool that can give you the answers to questions like these.

He and his associates have studied many other surface reactions, such as the sorts of things that go on in the catalytic converters in exhaust systems. Metal-surface reactions like this are crucial to industrial civilization, and their importance is, if anything, growing. If we're ever going to get fuel cells to work economically, use hydrogen as an energy medium, or do a better job cleaning up industrial wastes, we're going to be using such things. And keeping them in the category of witchcraft won't cut it. It never does. Congratulations to Gerhard Ertl!

Comments (23) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Chemical News | Current Events

October 1, 2007

All Sorts of Holes

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Posted by Derek

One of the things I like most about science is how thoroughly you can be taken by surprise. A good check on a field’s vigor is whether or not its practitioners are being ambushed by new data. By that standard, what at first looks like an embarrassment for the ozone-hole chemists actually makes them look pretty good.

The chemistry of ozone depletion over the Antarctic is well understood. Or is it? One of the key molecules in the process is chlorine peroxide (also known as chlorine monoxide dimer). It’s understood to be split by sunlight into reactive free chlorine radicals, which go on to catalyze the conversion of ozone into plain oxygen. In the process, the peroxide forms again, and the whole cycle starts over. While this is by no means the only means by which chlorine depletes ozone, it’s long been thought to be the main one.

But chlorine peroxide is a difficult molecule to work with. Extremely unstable by sea-level laboratory standards, it’s been hard to isolate in pure form for study. And despite the generally accepted cascade of ozone depletion reactions, it hadn’t even been detected in the Antarctic until 2004, which difficulty had been largely chalked up to its short lifetime. Now, though, a team at JPL has produced the best synthetic samples of chlorine peroxide to date, and they’ve checked how quickly it decomposes in the presence of ultraviolet light. And, well. . .the problem is, the stuff falls apart much more slowly than anyone had predicted – many, many times more slowly. If they’re right, it’s hard to see how the accepted chemistry of chlorine peroxide-driven ozone depletion can be correct.

This has produced all sorts of surprised reactions in the atmospheric chemistry world, summed up here at Nature News. Everyone is taking this report seriously, as well they should, and a number of explanations are already being tentatively advanced. All of them are going to require a lot of revision of what we thought we knew, though. (I should note that the depletion of ozone itself isn’t in question; that’s an experimental fact. Just how it’s being lost is the problem). Nature quotes researcher Marcus Rex:

"Overwhelming evidence still suggests that anthropogenic emissions of CFCs and halons are the reason for the ozone loss. But we would be on much firmer ground if we could write down the correct chemical reactions."

I have little doubt that this will get figured out eventually. The reason I’m optimistic is that this area of research is going along the way it’s supposed to. People are spending the time and effort to check assumptions, and when something turns up unexpectedly, the results are published in a good journal for everyone to see and argue over. That will lead to another round of theorizing, then more rounds of experimentation as people try to prove the latest ideas right or wrong. And thus we close in on the truth. That’s exactly, exactly how it should work.

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August 8, 2007

Steve Ley, Azadirachtin, and Me (Very Much in That Order)

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Posted by Derek

The latest issue of Nature has an article (subscriber-only) on Steve Ley's long-anticipated total synthesis of azadirachtin, which can be read, again subscriber-only, here and here at Angewandte Chemie. (For a open-source look at the synthesis, try Totally Synthetic). I'm quoted in the piece expressing numerous doubts about the merits of total synthesis, most of which made it into print.

I also expressed quite a bit of admiration for Steve Ley's work, most of which didn't make it into the article, so I wanted to get that on record over here. The reason I can hold both those opinions is, of course, that Ley has done a lot more over the years than just make azadirachtin. As I told Nature, if he'd been running one of the make-it-or-die total synthesis factories, he'd have no doubt been finished well before now. But he's introduced reagents and experimented with many new ideas and techniques, and those have (in my view) a greater chance of having an impact on the world than natural product synthesis does.

A lot of what goes on in that field seems to me to have about as much relevence and utility as do chess problems. It's to Ley's credit that he's made a molecule of this complexity while avoiding the large pitfalls in that part of chemistry - some of which are marked with names like "If You're Not First, You're Nothing", "You Worry About the Reactions and I'll Worry About the Yields" and "If You Can't Get This Coupling To Go, I'll Find A Post-Doc Who Will".

Back when I was finishing up graduate school in 1988, I had to put together a research proposal. I chose, like a fool, the polycyclic core of azadirachtin, and I cranked out a paper synthesis plan for it. Would it have worked? Not a chance in hell. Looking back, I can see that I was already falling out of love with total synthesis even back then, and time has not healed the rift. Steve Ley never lost the faith, but (to his credit) he hasn't let it define him, either.

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March 27, 2007

ACS Meetings

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Posted by Derek

The semi-annual American Chemical Society meeting is underway in Chicago this week. I'm not there, since duty calls here at Stately Pipeline Manor. (At one point a few months ago, I'd been invited to participate in a symposium that was later dropped. Little did I know that no one would still be employed at the Wonder Drug Factory by the time the meeting rolled around)! C&E News has a blog covering the meeting, and Chemistry World is doing the same.

I haven't actually been to an ACS national meeting in quite some time. They're pretty good-sized affairs, with several thousand attendees, although the size can vary significantly depending on where the meeting is held. There are, naturally, only a certain number of cities that can handle conventions of this size easily - we're not going to be seeing one in Bozeman, Montana or Fort Smith, Arkansas any time soon, although some people might prefer either of those to some of the cities where the meetings are actually held.

A glance at the past meeting calendar shows some locations that come up regularly, and others that pop up for reasons unknown. Boston (site of the next one in August), San Diego, Washington, and New Orleans are regular stops in recent years. Chicago, New York, Philadelphia, and Anaheim make multiple appearances, too. The venues are planned out to 2012, and those stalwarts make up most of the list, with San Antonio and Salt Lake City as outliers. Other places I can remember national meetings showing up are Las Vegas, Atlanta, Miami (not for a while, though, I think) and Dallas.

If anyone has particular nominations for best and worst places to attend one, I'd be glad (and other readers might be as well) to hear them. I'd also be interested in cities off the usual circuit where you'd like to see a meeting take place - yeah, I know, Shanghai, Pune, and Bangalore, but try to think of some others. I've heard the most gripes about Anaheim, personally, for lack of interesting sights, general character, etc., but complaints about facilities, food, and accommodations will also be welcomed. We'll get that Fort Smith booking yet.

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March 4, 2007

Calcium: A Backwater

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Posted by Derek

We've had a hundred years or so of nonstop love directed toward organomagnesium compounds (from Victor Grignard, patron saint of getting the reaction named after you and not your supervisor, right on down). So I've always found it interesting that there weren't more organocalciums out there.

Calcium is probably (from an organic chemist's viewpoint) one of the more underused elements in the first few rows of the periodic table. It's always overshadowed by its neighbors. I've never even seen pure calcium metal, as far as I can remember. OK, people distill some organic solvents from calcium hydride to dry them - at least they do in grad school, 'cause in many industrial labs no one distills solvents at all. And there's calcium sulfate as a drying agent (Drierite, by trade name), but people mostly use that for gas drying (calcium chloride, too, although I haven't seen a good old calcium chloride drying tube in a while). For drying liquids, a higher-volume trade, people reach for sodium or magnesium sulfate instead.

And while that's about as high-profile as calcium gets in many labs, those kinds of uses aren't exactly in the center ring. I recall seeing some old work with calcium metal in liquid ammonia, doing Birch chemistry, but I've never heard of anyone actually doing any of it. As far as real organocalcium compounds, the literature is mighty thin. One problem seems to be that the metal itself (unlike magnesium) doesn't just up and react with organic halides very well. Some Grignards, once they get going, have to be beaten down with frantic bucket runs to the ice machine, but not so with calcium.

Chemist Rueben Rieke has gotten around this problem in his usual fashion, by making insanely reactive calcium metal. His calcium work is about ten years old now, but I haven't seen too much follow-up. (One reason might be that Rieke's conditions can be rather painful to use, which difficulty he wisely exploited by forming his own company to do the stuff for other people). But I see that the latest Angewandte Chemie has an organocalcium article from a group of enterprising Germans, so perhaps this stuff might be working its way into the mainstream.

Once people have a reasonable way to get to these compounds, the hard part can begin: finding out what on earth they're good for. You'd have to think that there are interesting reactions and catalysts which can be prepared from calcium derivatives, since they're bound to have their own character. But where to start? An obscure element needs a champion. Boron had H. C. Brown, and Sharpless brought vanadium into vogue for a few years. A host of people lifted palladium from the back shelves to indispensability. Who speaks for calcium?

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September 26, 2006

Smell the Vibrations

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Posted by Derek

Mentioning the C. S. Sell article on odors and molecules the other day leads me to talk about Luca Turin. I don't think you can seriously take up the topic of chemicals and their smells without mentioning him, although those mentions tend to be anything but neutral.

Turin is (in)famous for suggesting that there's more to smell than molecular shapes and functional groups. He has an impressive list of structures that provide almost the same scent, but have very different shapes, along with a complementary set of nearly identical molecules with very different ones. These, along with several other arguments (vide infra) have led him to propose that the human body responds not only to shapes, but to vibrational spectra. Your nose, by this theory, is smelling the infrared spectra of the molecules that reach it.

This isn't a new idea - it was first proposed in 1938, and again in the early 1980s. Both times it was shot down, though, primarily by counterexamples such as enantiomeric molecules (mirror-image, for the non-chemists) which smell different while having identical vibrational spectra. Another problem was that no one could figure out how an olfactory receptor could be sensing vibrational spectra, since, to the best of human knowledge, the majority of noses contain neither a source nor detector of infrared light.

Luca proposed that electron tunnelling might provide the answer, and took a cue from solid state electronics. If the receptor was senstive to electron flow, it could function as a switch. An unoccupied receptor would have no current, but if a molecule whose vibrational mode energy was the same as the energy gap between its filled and unfilled levels, then electrons could drop to the lower state by tunnelling across. The receptors wouldn't scan the range themselves - rather, each one would be tuned to a different energy gap. Whether or not a given molecule worked for a given receptor would depend on its size and shape (to fit into the active site) but also on its charge distribution (and thus its functional groups) and its vibrational spectrum. The most complete published version of his theory can be found here.

In 2003, a book came out extolling Luca's work: The Emperor of Scent. It goes into detail about how the vibrational theory was received, which was mostly with great scepticism. Reviews of the book itself were all over the place, from enthusiastic to vitriolic. In that last category was the one from Nature Neuroscience (subscriber link here). The author, Chandler Burr, must have known that he was going to be in for a rough time when the reviewer started things off by quoting "Good Vibrations" by the Beach Boys.

I'll say this for the idea: this theory is well-made, because it's wide-ranging enough to accommodate a lot of the puzzling data about chemical odors, while at the same time making some specific predictions. Counterexamples can be found to just about any simple theory of odor, but this one is harder to get rid of. Not that people haven't tried, though. In 2004, a group at Rockefeller University reported some tests of Luca's predictions in Nature Neuroscience, a journal that must have been happy to see their manuscript. Three of his proposals took a good pounding: that mixtures of guiacol and benzaldehyde take on a vanilla odor not found in either compound alone, that straight-chain aldehydes with an odd number of carbons smell different from even-numbered ones, and that deuterated acetophenone smells different from the parent compound. The group reported failure on all three counts. The accompanying editorial was especially nasty, and to my mind, rather uncalled-for.

Turin has addressed some of these results, and it can be inferred that he didn't care for the Rockefeller group's experimental design. (He's partnered with a British statistician to analyze past data in the field and propose new designs for such tests). It does seem though, from the available data, that many animals from insects to dogs can in fact distinguish deuterated compounds from their lighter analogs. Turin's also proposed deuterated/nondeutreated dimethyl sulfide as a more distinguishable pair of compounds (see this long but interesting review article). That one's from 2003, before the latest results, but even at that point he's pointing out that vibrational theory, taken by itself, can't explain many important things about odors (such as their perceived intensity). At the same time, though, he maintains that the standard "odotope" theory is even more lacking.

Turin has now come out with a book of his own, which is getting better treatment from the scientific press so far (here's the Science review for subscribers). He's also put his money where his, er, nose is by forming his own company, Flexitral, with the intention of finding new odorants more efficiently. So far, the company has several commercial products, which are claimed to be improvements over the existing analogs in stability and allergenicity.

As for me, I'm willing to believe that vibrational spectra might be a component of odor, although shape is clearly a factor, too. But I'm betting that downstream neural processing will be just as large an influence, if not greater. For now, I'm going to see if I can get some deuterated dimethyl sulfide, and if I do, I'll report back.

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August 13, 2006

Six Chem-Geek Questions

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Posted by Derek

OK, some of this is going to sound like Sanskrit to my non-chemistry readership, but here goes:

1. When's the last time you held a paper copy of JACS in your hand? For me, I think it's been at least two years. They could be running swimsuit covers now and I wouldn't know about it.

2. Are ionic liquids actually good for anything, other than publishing papers about them?

3. To combine those first two, if you wrote up a paper about a ring-closing metathesis reaction to make a nanoscale structure in an ionic liquid, would the journals even bother sending it to a referee before immediately publishing it?

4. Are they ever going to hand out a chemistry Nobel for palladium coupling reactions? Or have the Swedes decided that credit is too tangled? (Not to mention the fact that not all the key early players are still alive). But if ring-closing metathesis deserves one (and I have no problem), doesn't the Suzuki reaction?

5. Weren't they promising us benchtop NMR machines back about twenty years ago? Does anyone expect to ever see the hypothetical personal benchtop LC/MS machine? Maybe we'll have them in our flying cars.

6. Will Chemical and Engineering News ever go a year without running a headline that says "Salaries for Chemical Engineers Still Higher". As far as I can tell, they haven't missed since about 1982.

Comments (42) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Chemical News

July 23, 2006

Hexacyclinol Rides Again

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Posted by Derek

The hexacyclinol controversy has taken a very interesting new twist, which I learned about on Friday from Dylan Stiles. To recap: the molecule is a complex natural product, which was the subject of a total synthesis paper earlier this year by James La Clair. The paper had several unusual features, such as single authorship with acknowledgements to several unnamed co-workers, an odd source (the "Xenobe Research Institute" and "Bionic Bros. GmbH" and (not least) several key chemical steps that appear to make little sense, backed up by fishy NMR data.

Then Prof. Scott Rychnovsky of UC-Irvine popped up with a proposal that the structure of hexacyclinol had been wrongly assigned in the first place. He assigned a completely different structure, with rather solid-looking reasoning behind it, which raised the question of just what La Clair had synthesized. How can you get the right spectral data by making the wrong structure, when the structures are so different as to make that impossible?

Turns out that Rychnovsky had another ace to turn over. The web site for Angewandte Chemie, where the original La Clair paper ran, has now put up advance notice of a paper on the synthesis of the revised structure of hexacyclinol, which appears to indeed match the published spectral data. This grenade is from Paul John Porco at BU, some of his students, and. . .Scott Rychnovsky, who apparently wasn't going out on as much of a limb as I thought.

La Clair has seen the writing on the wall, and apparently realizes that he has indeed been weighed in the balance and found wanting. During the day on Friday, the Xenobe Research Institute web page was updated. It now features Rychnovsky's revised structure (Update: or does it? See the comments!), with this text:

Desoxoudol (previously named desoxohexacyclinol)...

Efforts are underway to identify pathways that regulate the growth and development of four parasites responsible for Malaria, Plasmodium vivax, P. malariae, P. falciparum and P. ovale. Our first study conducted on desoxohexacyclinol, currently renamed as desoxoudol, is a terpene isolated from cultures of a German Borstiger Knäueling mushroom (Lentinus strigosus = Panus rudis Fr.). Earlier 2006, Dr. La Clair published the synthesis of desoxoudol demonstrated its conversion to udol and 5-epi-udol. Due to the unconventional nature of this effort, efforts are now underway to repeat this isolation and synthesis. Samples of these intermediates will be verified through analysis by a panel of external laboratories.

Unconventional. . .well, yeah, in a way. It's unconventional to synthesize a complex molecule and get the NMR structure of something completely different, that's for sure. But it's very conventional indeed to go back and attempt to spray-paint the record to make it appear as if something strange and embarassing hadn't happened. Oh, that part happens all the time. And that's exactly what I think is going on here.

For more comments on all this, see the Stiles link and The Chemblog. This is turning into the biggest stink-bomb in organic synthesis in many years.

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June 5, 2006

Hexacyclinol? Or Not?

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Posted by Derek

There's an interesting scandal brewing in synthetic organic chemistry - well, actually, more than one, but I haven't covered the Sames matter at all. This is a new one. Back in February, Angewandte Chemie, one of the most prestigious outlets for organic synthesis we have, published online a paper by James J. La Clair on the total synthesis of a nasty molecule called hexacyclinol, originally isolated from a Siberian fungus.

The paper is remarkable in several ways, and not just because I'd never heard of La Clair. The synthesis is over 30 steps long, which is unfortunately not as uncommon as it should be. (I'm afraid that my bias against total synthesis is showing). But La Clair is the only author, which is highly unusual for such a large effort. And it must have been a large one, since the paper makes reference to starting on a molar scale and finished with over three grams of the penultimate intermediate. Experienced organic chemists will wonder if two or three decimal points have been misplaced there, but that's what it says.

Here's a paragraph for my fellow synthetic geeks - everyone else can skip ahead. When you read it closely, this synthesis has some pretty odd steps in it. One oxidation (aldehyde to acid in the presence of a dithiane) is accomplished through the slow addition of silver oxide in paraffin wax, of all things. If that's a reagent combination that's ever appeared in the literature, I've missed it. Silver oxide, sure - but not delivered by a cheese grater. There's a Mitsunobu inversion, via thiophenol, which occurs on a brutally hindered tertiary alcohol, which is certainly not something I'd expect to happen, or count on midway through a thirty-odd step route. A bit later, La Clair has a mesylation that's accomplished by adding methanesulfonyl chloride/triethylamine once an hour for five hours, which is sort of believable, as the kind of thing that you're driven to by frantic experimentation, but still a bit odd-sounding.

As mentioned, La Clair is the sole author, with an address given at the Xenobe Research Institute. The usual reaction to that statement is "The what?", as I've found empirically by wandering down my hallway at work. (Or, as Stiles puts it, "not to be confused with the Scientology outpost in low orbit around Mars") Xenobe's site is a bit odd, giving off the distinctive feel of a one-man operation. I particularly like what happens when you click the "Support" button and are informed that the Institute is not accepting donations at this time. Before Xenobe, La Clair was at Bionic Bros. GmbH, in Berlin, which sounds unavoidably like a firm from a William Gibson novel. This is where much of the synthesis was done, according to a footnote in which he acknowledges, glancingly, "the assistance of five technicians". (In his defense, that's very much the German style of chemistry, for better or worse).

Now we get to the brow-furrowing part. In the preprint section of the ACS journal Organic Letters, Scott Rychnovsky of Cal-Irvine unveils a computational technique for predicting the carbon-13 NMR spectra of complex structures. His test case is. . .hexacyclinol, La Clair's baby. But according to Rychnovsky, the published structure for the natural product has to be wrong. His method seems to work quite well on similar polycyclic terpenoid nightmare structures, but feeding the accepted hexacyclinol structure into it yields a terrible correlation.

So what's the correct structure? Rychnovsky points out that a related species of fungus has been shown to produce another natural product, panepophenanthrin. If that reacted with some methanol and a bit of acid, which might easily happen during the isolation procedure, it would produce a compound with the same molecular weight as hexacyclinol. . .and that structure, run through the NMR predictor, gives a fit that's right in line with the other known cases he used. Rychnovsky's quite sure that his proposed structure is the real structure of hexacyclinol.

But if it is, how on earth did La Clair get the data he has? His paper includes a proton NMR of the natural product and one of his synthetic material for comparison. They're identical. But if Rychnovsky's right, La Clair synthesized the wrong structure entirely. The spectra shouldn't match at all - that's one of the remaining reasons for total synthesis, to make the compound and see if the spectral data really fit. Now, Rychnovsky's argument hinges on the carbon spectrum, but that should be easy to obtain, given the monstrously huge scale that La Clair seems to have been working on. And given the discrepency between the two proposed structures, I can't see how the proton NMRs can possibly line up by chance.

The strangest part of La Clair's paper is its final footnote, added in proof. Here's how it starts; make of this what you will: "The 1H NMR spectra for this Communication were determined by contract services. The spectra provided in the Supporting Information were collected by N. Voss (Berlin, Germany). The operator added the peak for CDCl3 to the spectrum of synthetic hexacyclinol (1), however, this was done incorrectly at 7.5 ppm and against the request of the author." That doesn't make a whole lot of sense. The NMR operator "added the peak" for solvent to a spectrum? Why? And he put the peak in at 7.5 ppm (the wrong place, for non-chemists)? With what, Photoshop? No, this is very strange indeed.

One of these guys is wrong. And reading Rychnovsky's paper, it's clear that he's not in much doubt about who it is: "Recently, a provocative synthesis of hexacyclinol was reported (footnote to La Clair's paper), and interest in the paper triggered my reexamination of the original structural assignment." By the standards of organic chemistry, that's a gloved slap in the face in the public square. Someone at Angewandte Chemie should probably be feeling the sting, too.

Thanks to Dylan Stiles for calling this business to my attention - his post's comments, which are much more potentially libelous than things tend to get around here, are well worth a read for those interested. Update: La Clair has made an appearance in Dylan's comments, rather to everyone's surprise, I'd say. Still no word on a C-13 spectrum, though.

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May 21, 2006

Chem-Geek Alternate History

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Posted by Derek

During long meetings, my thoughts turn to all sorts of useful topics - pressing things like, "If we ever meet intelligent aliens, what will they know about chemistry compared to us?" (I'm having to make some assumptions with that thought, of course, because any aliens that can send us so much as a ham sandwich from another star system already have us totally outclassed). But the question doesn't have to involve any space travel; you could just as easily ask what we'd be doing now if the history of the science had gone differently. Did it have to evolve the way it did?

For example, there are an awful lot of old carbonyl-condensation reactions - aldol, Claisen, Dieckmann, etc. Are these inevitable early discoveries? You could make a case for "yes", because the starting materials are often such basic organic chemicals (aldehydes, esters), and their reactions would probably be among the first things explored. Besides, the reactions of stabilized carbanions are a cornerstone of organic chemistry, and even if things got a bit out of order you'd think that this would have to still be the case, The same goes, and more so, for nucleophilic substitution. I don't see any sort of organic chemistry getting very far without the discovery of things like the Williamson ether synthesis and the Finkelstein reaction, and the principles behind them.

The wild cards would probably be organometallic reactions. Grignard reagents might be an example of things were discovered earlier than they should have been. We still don't know all the details of their formation and reactivity, a hundred years on. And on the other side, did it have to take so long for the palladium couplings we all use to be discovered? After all, palladium was already known to do a lot of interesting organic chemistry, even fifty years ago. But as late as the 1980s, palladium-catalyzed carbon-carbon couplings were a bit exotic. Think, though, of what the field would look like if someone had stumbled over the Suzuki coupling in, say, 1949. . .

The history of oxidation and reduction, though, could easily be moved around, since there are so many means to accomplish similar ends. It's possible to imagine a world where the early organic synthesis papers aren't so full of Jones reagent and the other chromiums, but where some sort of permanganate or ruthenium reagent was the favorite. As for reduction, like him or hate him, where would boron reagents have been without H. C. Brown? ("Probably more widely used", I can hear some people muttering. . .)

That brings up the whole topic of personality. Historians frown on the "great man" viewpoint, but inside one scientific discipline it's hard to ignore it. Organic synthesis would certainly exist if R. B. Woodward had never been born, but it's for certain that it wouldn't look the way it does now. . .

Comments (9) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Chemical News | Drug Industry History

May 10, 2006

A New Route to Tamiflu?

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Posted by Derek

There's been a lot of press coverage the last week or so about two new routes to Tamiflu (oseltamavir). Roche famously starts from shikimic acid, most of which they get from Chinese star anise, and the new syntheses are attempts to get around that bottleneck.

E. J. Corey's getting more attention than Masakatsu Shibasaki, partly because he's a Nobel winner and partly because he's made a point of placing his synthesis in the public domain. (Shibasaki's applied for a patent). It's nice to see organic synthesis make the headlines, but unfortunately, a lot of the coverage has been of the "Nobel Prize Winner Solves Tamiflu Problem" sort. I've also seen several stories that suggest that Corey's route opens the door (at last, right?) to mass production.

Not so fast. Roche has already been producing rather large amounts of oseltamavir, although they'd be glad to find a better route. And it's not like they haven't been trying themselves, as this PDF will make clear. And it's far from clear that Corey's route will be of commercial value, even though his overall yield, as given, is about 27%, which news articles are saying is roughly twice the yield from shikimic acid. (Note, though, that that Roche PDF claims a higher yield than Corey's - I'm not sure who's right).

Let's get technical and take a look at the chemistry. First off, the repeated claim that Corey's route starts from two of the cheapest feedstocks available - butadiene and acrylic acid - is only partly true. The key Diels-Alder reaction actually uses trifluoroethyl acrylate, which is substantially more expensive than acrylic acid, although admittedly ten times cheaper than the same amount of shikimic acid from the same source. Moving on, there are eleven steps, and according to the supplementary material for the paper (where the full experimentals are), steps 1, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 8 have chromatography in their workup. The others are run through a plug of silica or are taken on crude, which tells me that Corey's students probably tried to do the same with the remaining steps but took a hit on the yields. Every chromatographic purification adds a great deal to the cost of a process route, needless to say.

There are other wrinkles. Steps 1 and 2 start at -78 degrees before coming up to more process-friendly temperatures. Step 8 is a slow addition at -40, and step 9 is an inverse addition at -20. Low-temperature reactions are certainly doable on scale, but again, they'll add to the cost and complexity. Those last two steps involve an acylaziridine intermediate, whose thermal stability would need to be checked out, and could partially negate the advantage of not using azide in the route.

The scale of the reactions in this paper is in the ten-gram range, which is fine, until you get to steps 8 and 9. Those low-temperature reactions are shown on 300 and 160 milligrams, respectively. That tenfold drop in scale indicates another area that would need to be checked out; there can be a huge difference between something that works on a couple of hundred mgs and a useful process, especially in the cold.

All this isn't to say that Corey's route doesn't work, or that it can't work on scale. But it's important to keep in mind that the kind of chemistry done in his lab is about as far from industrial scale as you can get. It may be that the more interesting features of his route (the catalyzed Diels-Alder, for example) could be combined with some of Roche's own process ideas and turned into something feasible. But for now, this is an interesting route that's a long way from solving anyone's Tamiflu shortage.

To be fair, Corey himself isn't responsible for some of the hype, except I wish he wouldn't let himself be quoted as saying that the thinks that the Tamiflu production problems are "solved". Headline writers know nothing about organic chemistry or drug development, and they run with what's in the press releases. Of course, there's the larger question hanging over all of this: will Tamiflu even do anyone any good if there is a human outbreak of avian flu? And that, nobody knows.

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November 30, 2004

More on Woodward

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Posted by Derek

Speaking of R. B. Woodward brings up the usual question: who's the Woodward of today? (Or, in its alternate form, how come there isn't one?)

He doesn't exist. And I wouldn't stand on one leg waiting for one to appear, either. It's too late in the game for that. Woodward was the perfect man for the moment - a generation earlier and he wouldn't have had the tools he needed, and a generation later he would have had too many.

It's generally assumed that we synthetic chemists can make anything we want to, given enough time and money. That's not completely true, but it's true enough to hurt. But no one assumed anything like that forty or fifty years ago. If you'd asked someone in 1955 if they could synthesize Vitamin B-12 if they just had enough postdocs and enough grant money, not many people would have had the nerve to say "yes." (And a fair number of the few who did would have been kidding themselves. . .) But that's the kind of problem Woodward lived for.

Many of the bizarre molecules made by the post-Woodward synthetic gods (Corey, Kishi, Nicolau, et al.) weren't even known in his day. Some of them would surely have given him pause if you'd asked him to take them on with 1960s chemistry. But organic synthesis has improved faster than the complexity of its targets, and the gap isn't what it was. Until we make the leap into some new level of difficulty (speculations welcome), it won't be. And Woodwardosaurus rex will remain extinct.

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November 29, 2004

Archaeologists Announce Dirty Laundry Discovery

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Posted by Derek

Hey, brain researchers! Want to unravel the fine details of long-term memory? Looking for the longest of long-term potentiations? Just go out and rope in a few scientists. No, not to do the research - to do the research on. If you can find some that feel that they've been cut out of the credit for a discovery, you've got the best subjects you could ever want.

Consider some research that look place in the mid-1960s at Harvard. R.B. Woodward was Harvard's star organic chemist, a man whose name is still used as a shorthand for extraordinary talent. His work with Albert Eschenmoser to synthesize Vitamin B12 is considered one of the great syntheses of all time, and it was a set of problems in that project that set him to working with theoretician Roald Hoffmann to codify what was going on. Chemists everywhere are now familiar with the Woodward-Hoffmann rules for pericyclic reactions, which tied a whole list of cyclizations and rearrangements into a coherent bundle. Hoffmann and his collaborator Kenichi Fukui won the 1981 Nobel prize, and if Woodward had been alive he very likely would have joined them to win his (nearly unheard-of) second one.

Enter E. J. Corey, who took over the position of mighty synthetic powerhouse at Harvard after Woodward's death and won a Nobel of his own in 1990. In his acceptance speech earlier this year for the American Chemical Society's Priestly Medal, Corey mentioned the Woodward-Hoffman work, and mentioned in passing that he had actually put Woodward onto the path that led to the correct solution. This was news to just about everyone - well, except for a few people Corey had complained to over the years, not least of them Roald Hoffmann himself.

Now Hoffmann has replied, in a highly unusual five-page letter in Angewandte Chemie. (Those links may not work for nonsubscribers - try this roundup from Nature instead.) He goes into a lot more detail than Corey's spoken claim did, feeling (correctly, I'd say) that the gloves are now off. As it turns out, Corey wrote a letter to Hoffmann in 1981 giving his account of his conversation with Woodward, and describes how the next day he heard Woodward refer to the idea as his:

"In a manner of which few would be capable he pirated the idea, evidently preferring that over my good will. Even more incredible than what Bob did was how he did it. . ."

Thus said Corey, and he attached a plea that Hoffmann set the record straight in his Nobel acceptance speech. This chance Hoffman declined, as anyone would have guessed, since Bob Woodward had been dead for two years and the only person who could attest to the conversation was Corey himself. A follow-up letter from Corey was full of unretractable fighting words. Hoffmann mentions that he went on to meet with Corey personally in 1984, but how he managed to make himself do that after this sort of stuff is beyond me:

"You cannot deny that despite the possibility of appalling dishonesty at the roots of your collaboration with Bob, you elected to close your mind. . .please consider that history many not deal leniently in this matter, taking seriously the possibility not only of Bob's dishonesty, but of your own not unwitting participation in the extension of fraud."

Hoffmann goes into great detail on his side of the 1964 story, and he has some good evidence that Woodward was already on the track of the idea that Corey claims to have suggested to him. (He also reports that Woodward denied to him that Corey was a contributor to the work, but that's another conversation we have only one side of.) But Hoffmann also gets in a kidney punch, showing that Corey published a paper the next year that would have been an ideal showcase for his understanding of the relevant concepts, but said nothing about them.

Corey never went public with his claim until this year, although it seems that for years he's vented to a number of prominent chemists and fellow Harvard faculty members. It's clearly been eating away at him all this time, and for some reason - intimations of mortality? - he feels that it's time to haul out this ancient dispute.

I never met Woodward - first-year undergraduates in Arkansas didn't cross his path much - but I've met (casually) both Corey and Hoffman, and I've worked with students and post-docs of all three of them. Overall, I'd say I believe Hoffmann here. Although I think that Corey probably did have what he saw as a key conversation with Woodward in May of 1964, I'm not so sure that Woodward saw it as such a turning point. There's no way for us to know - even if Woodward had lived to comment, I doubt if that would have cleared things up any more. (Of course, Corey had fifteen years to speak up while Woodward was alive, a point Hoffmann misses no opportunities to make.)

What I'm sure of, though, is that Corey is doing himself no good at all. Chemists all over the world are saying to themselves "This guy has a Nobel already, what else does he want?" One problem is that some of this springs from the same qualities that got Corey to where he is. The persistence that's kept this simmering in him from 1964 to 2004 is the same persistence that's taken him through a huge array of impressively difficult molecules. But this is all a useless wound to his own reputation. There are, after all, more important things than being right.

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February 5, 2002

Why Total Synthesis?

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Posted by Derek

So why do huge natural product molecules still get made, if the thrill is gone?

Well, for one, not everyone agrees about the thrill. Total synthesis is one of the areas with real summits to plant flags on, and you really can be the first to climb them. And (unlike mountaineering!) you don't run out of mountains. They keep on coming, higher and trickier, year after year. Of course, as I went on about on Sunday, the technology keeps on improving, too. I'd argue that we're getting close to an expertise that allows us to hack our way up most any molecular mountain, one way or another.

Another reason the work goes on is that it used to be a great way to find totally new chemistry. Back in the day, you often had to invent new reactions just to have a chance of making these molecules, and that was one of the main justifications for the whole effort. Unfortunately, now that we don't necessarily have to invent the new reactions, many total-synthesis types don't.

I don't want to exaggerate, because it's still no cookbook. Many steps in a big total synthesis require lots of tricky modifications from the normal way you'd run a reaction. And there are lots of reactions that should work and don't; the first thing out of the book usually doesn't do the trick. But, still, very seldom now is new chemistry invented during a major synthesis. People will discover a new reaction, and think of a natural product to demonstrate it with, but they won't discover the new reaction in media res.

That's because it takes too long to do it. The advances in the science are making it gradually trickier to find totally new reactions, or new applications of old ones. If you're in a race to be the first to synthesize Megatoxin, you're not going to spend a few months (or a few years) to see if you can come up with a new reaction that'll save you six steps. You'll just hack out the six steps and get on with it - even if no one else is racing you, which is almost always the case these days.

There's one reason, though, that I can't argue with. Total synthesis is a great way to train chemists. You have non-stop problem-solving under very trying conditions, you experience all sorts of chemistry, and you end up with the hands to do just about any reaction there is. The drug companies love to hire total synthesis people. They figure (correctly) that dealing with the adversity of that work is good training for drug discovery, where most things don't work, either.

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February 3, 2002

Climbing Mountains

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Posted by Derek

I mentioned the team-of-Sherpas approach to making molecules, but that's something that (fortunately) I haven't had to do much in recent years. In drug discovery, we try to avoid anything involving that kind of chemical labor - the rest of the drug development stuff is enough to keep everyone busy, thanks. Contrast that to some academic organic chemistry, where molecules that need pyramid-construction-size teams are sometimes the whole point.

I did big-molecule natural product synthesis for my PhD, and I don't miss it for a minute. (I don't miss a lot of things about my PhD for a minute, for that matter, but that's another story.) It's a specialized world inside organic chemistry, which during its glory days was for many the only world that mattered. It's hard to put exact dates on that, but you could start in the 1950s, end sometime in the late 70s or early 80s, and not set off too many arguments.

It's not that huge and difficult molecules aren't made any more. They are, and some of them are weird enough to have made the old titans like R. B. Woodward choke on their Scotch. But it's different somehow; I think it's because we've gotten a little too good. There are a lot of reactions we can pull out now that Woodward's generation never lived long enough to see, reactions that do things they never knew could be done. So now, when some massive team of postdocs makes Voodoomycin, Whateverol, or some other molecule that looks like your structure-drawing program malfunctioned all over the page, it doesn't set off the awe that the older syntheses did. It can't. There are dozens, hundreds, thousands of people who look at the resulting paper and say "Hey, give me a team of fifty smart, highly trained workaholics and a million dollars from NIH, and I'll make Whateverol, too."

We can make almost anything (given enough sweat, time, and money,) but most complex molecules still use up far too much of all three. It's not the boundries of the science that hold us back any more, just the boundries of the real world. Those who aren't well acquainted with the field figure it can do most anything, but those inside it know, for practical reasons, that we often can't.

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