“Maiysha is the Future”
When Michael Gonzales wrote “Maiysha is the Future” this bit came out:
As a music writer for about twenty years, I cringe when unknown singers or bands invite me to their showcases. Sometimes folks just aren’t as good as they think they are, and I’m stuck with a frozen smile on my face, just trying to be polite. I say all that to say, in the ten years that I’ve known upcoming singer Maiysha, she has invited me to more than a few shows that I merely blew-off.
Okay: You see… the mufukkin Joker from the newest Batman movie has a “frozen smile” stuck on his face. I do not want to go out like that… There is some unseen part of me that has to be taken care of… and a singer like Maiysha and the thousands of those inviting Michael Gonzales to showcases will never take care of this part of me… These people are too busy trying to “be somebody”… It is my responsibility to take care of this unseen part of me. I can’t expect a “great artist” to come along and soothe me with their insight into the human condition while they ride around in a tour bus drinking from plastic bottles.
This hidden part of me is not only intangible but not valuable according to the Western marketplace. It is hard for properly assimilated Americans to know or care about this same unseen part within them… It makes me angry very quickly when a self-described “artist” is reeking of this style of thoughtlessness.
Artists here in the rasx context are supposed to be reflective, sensitive people with a rich inner life of creativity. Artists are usually people who had to defend/rebuild their inner child because of some kind of abuse or a Buddha-like awareness of suffering in the world. It follows that these restorative artists should loathe abusing/ignoring other people and it is a matter of pride with them to see qualities in other people that others, because of their false social boundaries and hierarchies, fail to see. (This implies that Blackness—with the capital B—is not of false social boundaries. Here in the rasx() context Blackness is toward the dark matter and dark energy in the universe itself… now that is actually deep! Is that too “pretentious” for you?)
Artists work hard—and a sign of that hard work is their careful study of the field they are supposedly interested in… The young artists that I respect (even though I do not accept the very concept of “art” as universal) already have studied the fame/success/money tragedies of those that came before them and at least “hope” they will not make the same dumb-ass mistakes. By the way, kids, reading the previous sentence and repeating it back to me in an “offline,” “private” email does not mean you have actually done the hard work of really respecting and absorbing your field. It might be better for you to decide you cannot understand what I am writing here and move on with your tricycle-riding ass… remember: you outnumber me and there is safety in numbers… unless you are on the Titanic…
The artists that really get my respect are historians as well as performers. The Carolina Chocolate Drops look like this to me (right about now). The black artists that are actually Black—almost African in their delivery—understand that they must have an active, non-exploitative relationship with their ancestors (yes, I know I have European ancestors too but keeping in contact with them is way too easy…). This is in stark contrast with the American-European (Byzantine) style of being magical, “coming out of nowhere” and being perfectly unique in every way. I trace this Indo-European wizardry back to the god-king (or goddess-queen) concept that started in Imperial Egypt (after the fall of the Old Kingdom) and took off in Babylon like Elvis taking off with the Blues to make those chariots rock and roll all the way to Constantinople. So it is very sad to see young “black” artists orbiting the planet Thoth comes from… no matter how “hard,” “fierce” and fresh they think they be…
My thoughts about the work people do have no limits—not because I have no limits but because thought itself has no limits. Just like how B.B. King anthropomorphizes his guitar Lucille, my thoughts are seen as an autonomous being that is not under my “control”—but they are of me at the same time. These two apparent “contradictions” are what makes Jazz so amazing to almost everyone on Earth and is the fascinating gateway into an ancient African intellectual world that makes European “philosophy” as dry and cold as the Osmond family getting a little country. (BTW: The reason why you have never heard of Bryan Wilhite, the ‘officially’ recognized published author, is because I continue to make supposedly “hostile” and “divisive” statements like the ones you are reading in this paragraph right now. So you are free to send me Osmond Family t-shirts and Osmond Family lunch boxes with the red thermos to show your support for ancient African, wisdom-based consciousness.)
To reverse a line from Laurie Anderson, this is not something I know for myself but this (anthropomorphizing) is from the stories my people tell. So when an artist invites me to look at their work, I am comparing their work to everything I and I have ever seen. I don’t play that “the kids need their own” artificial-scarcity, Viacom, Radio Disney shit. This means that there is no implied handicap when your work steps on stage. You play the guitar. Joni Mitchell plays the guitar. Just because you are young and Joni Mitchell is old, I am not going to pretend that Joni Mitchell does not exist (and pretend that her work is not forever young and alive with me) when you start strumming and singing. The only people who get this kind of break from me are pre-teens (I am even “harder” on my children). When you take the time to look at the level of variety and depth around a space that is supposedly “limited”—the so-called “ethnic” content here in the kinté space—you might be able to see that when you ask me to look at your shit you are asking quite a bit. This is why you, dude, will probably not ask me to look at your shit. And this is cool with me because the probability that “the next new thing” will totally suck is very, very high—and I am no Joker with the fake smile.
Michael Gonzales has been vetting artists for two mufukkin’ decades and he has already told you nicely what I say bluntly: the probability that “the next new thing” will totally suck is very, very high. This is why this Heath Ledger kid, actually performing the Joker on par with Jack Nicholson and succeeding is such a pleasant surprise to me. (I get tired of seeing and subsequently complaining about whack shit!) His life ending is such a loss to real talent. What would be an even greater more pleasant surprise is Heath Ledger being born and raised in the United States—and being so talented. The American suburbs are built not to celebrate humanity on a massive scale—this awesome power structure of rebellious-docility and self-absorption peaked in the 1980s—so anyone coming out of the North American suburbs (especially the Californian suburbs) through the 1980s with any world-renown talent (especially a talent that requires a union of physical presence, precise intellection and deep soulfulness) is truly an amazing person. I’m sure you can think of some people who ran the gauntlet and was saved alive. I’m sure you can think of other brilliant people who had direct family ties to the Hollywood “business” and new from the inside knowledge not even to try. But Gwen Stefani was raised right next to mufukkin Disneyland and did a damn solid job on herself—but she and I are almost the same age… I’m thinking of younger artists here in the states… you guys… whew…
Hey artist dude! You hear what I’m saying? No? What a surprise. There are two very simple reductions that are likely to take place:
- One: the person speaking to the artist is not directly linked to the big break or the next gig—so whatever this person says is irrelevant.
- Two: the person speaking to the artist did not say he liked the work therefore he is not supportive and should be ignored forever.
The artist dude is absolutely right to ignore me forever because most likely she never knew me in the first place. When an artist approaches to “share” their work with me, I see it as a freestyle moment of consultation and collaboration with no strings attached. Many artists that know me on a first-name basis do not see me as a consultant, confidant or a partner of any kind. My zero-reason for this is just the blindness of being busy (and often scared). My first reason for this is that these people are Americans and any American knows that a “partner” will ask for money—so the “smart” artist will keep as few money-grubbers as possible. Everybody goes solo. My second reason for this is that American artists probably saw Hollywood movies and Tee Vee shows about artists and are very preoccupied with having “fans” (especially paying fans) instead of critics. My mother was my first fan and few human beings on Earth have exceeded her adoration and her financial support. This means that critique, market research and mentorship are my priorities… I do not need any more fanatical mothers…
My third reason for this is because the artists have read the words you are reading now (including all those badly-written paragraphs above) and the conclusion is that I am “too angry” and “confused” to be of any help—even to myself. It is amazing how I even get out of bed in the morning! This reality will remain true until someone like Julian Schnabel reads me and finds me cool on the electric or paper pages of some slick magazine interview and suddenly all of the colored artists come running out of the woodwork to suck me dry. Do I sound bitter or do I sound like someone recounting the abridged historical record? Never forget that DJ Spooky called me a “hater.” Keep away.
My fourth reason is that many hard working artists from the ’hood see everything of value as something “hard” to reach. You know… like the Wizard of Oz is hard to reach… (and they usually attach a racial value as well)… My words are just sitting here on some flat disk connected to the Internet… too easy… feh… You can never say I didn’t try to warn you, Black… and that quip leads to my last reason: many not-so-young artists—some of whom made upwards of $20,000 a week—did not listen to my advice which was quite accurate (even when I was 19 years old!)—and I can assure you that I take no pleasure in telling them, “I told you so!” Because their success would have raised all boats and this rising would have taken me to heights of such high-dollar busyness that I (probably) would not have time to write so much (for your mufukkin’ benefit)… I would have been writing more stuff like “Digital Compositing for NTSC Broadcast Segments with Sonic Foundry Vegas Video 3.0”… These people, my friends (some ex friends), regard themselves as “failures” and my guidance only helps to avoid the hole but does not help one get out of the hole (with “magic”)… so… we don’t have much to say to each other (no comments from them on my Blog) and I am not much for distracting small talk (which is actually an important skill to have in the world of non-technical political maneuvering toward six figures)… I am very interested in what is wrong so it can one day be right…
For many (usually very young) artists the very act of ‘comparing’ them to anyone shows no “respect.” The “agytator” Coco Black wrote a Blog post (that was later deleted) called “Janelle Monae & Coco Black: Moment of Reality!!” It might still be in the Google cache. Anyway, this is the thought-provoking part of what she wrote:
To be blunt—I don’t take kindly to being compared to people no matter how inevitable or well-intentioned it is. I like being myself. I don’t really feel flattered when someone tells me now that I look like Janelle Monae—not that I don’t think she is beautiful and extremely talented, but because that is her. That is what she has created and built and I take my hat off to her and her team.
I am glad that she wrote this—because Coco Black speaks for an entire generation of young artists that don’t give a f’ about much. If we all wrote them checks every month for doing nothing, like some Bush/Chaney Imperial tribute, that would be cool with most of them (I do not include Coco Black here because I do not really know Coco Black). Both Janelle Monàe and Coco Black get their “lookalike” pompadour hair styles from Jackie Wilson (and James Brown—and Prince—and…). So for Coco Black to suggest (even in jest) that Janelle Monàe “stole” her hairstyle is just youthful angst that’s just not funny (can we get a fake smile for this one?). But Coco Black does make up for this by showing much respect to Grace Jones—in fact her crew has a whole “flashback Friday series”—so all is not lost…
The tactical problem with not being able to handle comparison is the danger of leading to being without compare. The egocentric perils of this danger are quite “inevitable.” Had Michael Jackson been too “incomparable” to study openly and respectfully Jackie Wilson he would not be the great dancer and general-purpose stage presence that he is (him studying Elizabeth Taylor too much was not a great idea)…
Trying to turn art into factory work is a full time job and the fear of wasting time is very strong. So I understand that Janelle Monàe will not have (or make) time to read stuff like, umm, “Introducing Janelle Monàe” and Coco Black has her own Blog so it might not make sense to read someone else’s. I don’t know everything. But just in case they come by these words years later, when the wolf-hound pursuit is all over, here’s one from Prince: “the beautiful ones always smash the picture… always… every time…”