oluseun anikapulo kuti aka seun (kills-the-stage) kuti

we in toronto are extremely lucky to be bombarded by high quality live music all summer long-

last night Seun Kuti performed at the Harbourfront for the second time - he is sexy, black and built in rhythm - always opens with something from his papa and always ends with his shirt off.

mind you, man can dress; Seun's green & white spiral print shirt with a wide lapel and butter cup, high-waisted, tailored slacks made me think Fela's closet is in good hands or the Kuti men have an afrofunkrebel pattern in their y chromosome...

but the real quandary is why do the Egypt 80 stick with Seun, the youngest son, as opposed to travelling with the much celebrated, more established older son Femi? it could be that Seun has been performing with the veteran 18+ piece band since he was nine years old. or it could be that the Kutis are Yoruba, descendants of demi-god Oduduwa - a king left his throne to the last son, the most clever son. or it could be that Seun embodies the hardline, satirical, revolutionary lyrical style of his father. or because when Fela died in '97 and Seun was 15, it only seemed right to push him from the back-up vocals section with his mother to center stage solo. I do not know, but I feel this was the right choice. Seun is animated, funny and commanding. At 25 years old, the man is a stellar live musician who brings a touch his own personality to illuminate his father's spirit and traditions. On stage it's clear Seun strives to give as much to the band as they give him - and do they give boy, they give.

the Egypt 80 are afrobeat history - 2/3rds of the band are original members of the (Africa 70 renamed) Egypt 80 band who traveled with Fela in the seventies. when you hear big band, you may think Duke or Bassie jazz orchestra or even brazilian style samba drum groups or perhaps seventy strong steel pan sets but the original BIG BAND is the african band. and historically the biggest baddest bestest big band on the continent is the Egypt 80. they are live. Egypt 80 are afrobeat originators, innovators, instigators. these men tell its story every night. make me tell you bout endurance: one soldier member transitioned from sax to keys at the age of 70 only because the brass became to heavy for his old bones. but them old bones have been playing twelve hour sets of 45 minute songs for the past forty years - do not mess, these are musician soldiers, artist renegades; if there was an afrobeat war, these guys would never have need for a white flag - rather they would play the funkiest version of the funeral song you ever heard while their beleaguered opponents were carried off the battlefield.

a word about how real african men dance - word. (sigh.)

no, but truly, it is spectacular: the stance is wide, bampsy pushed out, chest puffed up, shoulders wide and strong, head cocked, all muscles at alert and GO!

hips switch, back snakes, shoulders shift, rise and lower while pelvis goes whinewhinewhine and thrustthrustthrust... in concert Seun turns his back to the audience often to make them see precisely how it is done and sends his shoulders flying as he wails on his sax to the band or he turns to the side and folds his torso at ninety degrees and sings down into the mic with his backside raised, gyrating with his free hand held out in front of him fingers spread wide. finally, to further demonstrate, he removes his shirt to ensure the crowd catches every last quiver and movement, his back black and bulging with musical muscles, glistening - sigh. let me stop there.

there are great bands still making new sounds in afrofunk style -
http://www.myspace.com/antibalas
http://www.myspace.com/femmnameless
http://www.myspace.com/bacissoko

hot tip: few people caught the February 2008 release by Dj Mike Love of Nigerian Gangster - check it on his myspace - i'm not sure of the conception of this crazy mix, but Love takes Jay Z's lyrical film score and mixes Hova's ryhmes with Fela's funk; throughout there is historical reference to Fela with wicked soundbytes and because i love Jay's flow, i really enjoy this album.

thank you Oluseun Anikulapo Kuti for a brilliant concert, an amazing show. we torontonians are luckier than we know - the orchestra baobob is at the Harbourfront tonight... i'll tell you how it goes tomorrow!

a lesson in reggae music

my ex's bredren ras bagl said once, "di white man a hate di rastaman cos di rastaman hav di key!" he shook his locks in protest, but then grinned madly and winked as he whispered, "di key ah di reggae muuuzik."

here's a great clip that breaks down the roots of reggae - reggae is revolution music. reggae is a roots movement, a rebel movement, a rasta movement. rastafari is love. rasta wear him hair so fi mek people know him nah business with babylon society ways.... i could go on and on... my mother loved reggae music and peter tosh and so i do it seems... i suggest any music lover familiarise themselves with the music - from studio one fahwad ...rocksteady, dub, ska, reggae, dancehall...

Lee Scratch Perry - 72 years young and badass.

Lee Scratch Perry strutted back and forth on stage, strollin, too cool, his hat smokin (literally) and shining gold - AMAZIN' - dub poet, master mix man, mad genius, dropping precious flecks of wisdom into the audience. He sang "sun is shining" into the cool night air and i believed him.

After burning down his Black Ark Studio in 1979 (following enormous commercial success,) critics began to question his sanity. After some bizarre live performances in the nineties, critics bgan to question his talent. Some may say he is mad, sick, head no good but me know say Perry is the truth, the undiluted truth. here are some of the gems i kept from the show, but also check out the clip below -

lighting flash...
bless your name...
bless your brain...
shake your head...
write your name...
bless your name...

i am confused...
i am not confused...

cannabis, cannabis, cannabis...

i am a bug...
give me a hug...
i am not a thug...
give me a hug...
i am a thug...
but i am in love...
i am a bug...
give me a hug...

did you ever know someone who

did you ever know someone
who turned hater when intoxicated?
someone you thought was your friend
but the alcohol made you know
it is not so -
like you turned your back and instead of mix,
she poured haterade in her drink?

define "liveable"

i often find
i choose to live
in places you might not

in canada
i seek shelter
and not much more than that

i rent and move
i move and rent
i do not seek someplace
permanent

i select by feeling
i don't look at the ceilings
i never check against building codes

cracked windows, no bother
faulty element, no matter
yellow tap water, just wait one moment

it will pass

faulty fixtures don't upset me
aging wires will not distress me
peeling trims could never offend me

because

i do not care for
new appliances and fresh paint
i do not care to
purchase furniture to fill space

i keep it
simple
functional
tenable

for this is not my home
i seek shelter alone
and not first class residence

don't you call it ghetto
don't dare turn up your nose
don't tell me the futon is hard and lumpy
all i do is sleep here -
this country is not my home

i prefer a reminder
our life is much kinder
and so i choose a shitbox

until the day
i make my way
and build myself a home

africa or south america
archipelago or coast
somewhere with water for my bamboo

a second floor with
a wrap around veranda
and an inner courtyard too

Neg Marrons feat. Cesaria Evora

Petit pays
Je t'aime beaucoup
Petit petit
Je l'aime beaucoup

'old talk'

i spoke to my mother this morning and she lamented,
"what a shame, jammie, you know old talk is dying out."
"old talk?" I ask and she continued with an explanation (slightly flabbergasted,)
"this business of old talk is a set of west indians sitting around, it's an easy kind of atmosphere, we catching up on news, piconging -"
"wait, what is picong?"
"oh gosh chile', look it up - everybody has gotten so uptight, so focused on their own agenda, if you say something nobody takes it as you say it, they're looking to hear what they want..."
and true to my mother's character (a teacher) she referred me to a book to further understand the concept - 'the housing lark' by sam selvon.

today is sunday, so we should all be out and about enjoying the sunshine. i say summertime is made for loitering, so let's; let's take a moment today for old talk, to sit around and catch up with friends and enjoy their company - give it a try and maybe we can resurrect this valuable tradition...for my mother.

jose james - jazz '08

here's the thing about jazz - jazz is complicated.

i mean that it's inextricably tied to time, place and people in our minds -
think rare recordings in crowded smokey bars
think bird, miles, coltraine, chet, herbie, dizzy, monk...
think blues, swing, bebop,
basically, think back -

but jose james thinks back and brings it forward in a way that blasts most other styles of contemporary jazz - you know the kind that wafts around waiting rooms and elevators?

well, the fella strolled on stage in a white t shirt, jeans and a NY baseball cap, grabbed the mic and...
it was clear that scatting is the archetype freestyle and
lyrical content added the here-and-now to the way-back-then sounds of the jazz quartet and
his hands moved like an emcee in a cipher...
and it was authentic and live and now and then - wicked.

respect to jose james; let's hope ears out there are attuned to his oldnewthennow style... he proves that we can make current what we revere and speak about with nostalgia... we can bring forward our musical roots, hug them tight and cloak them in today... lest we forget; then where will we go?

jose james - the dreamer

would you believe there's still some cool mofos making current quality jazz?

ayo - live show

last night ayo and her three piece band performed at the rivoli - sublime. half nigerian, half gypsy, ayo has a stunning voice, high and sweet with a rough tone, soft but strong, something sounds like nomad, like hard times that have befallen such beauty, like tragic heartbreak. ayo beat that guitar as hard as she strummed it, maintaining eye contact with her band mates, the four jammed away listening to each other create pauses and patterns spontaneous, harmonious, continuous...

she is such a warm pretty presence with her bright bronze shine in a turquoise t shirt dress and grey vintage leather boots - no accessories - she leapt down into the crowd midway through the encore and danceddanceddanced and her hips and quick pace belied her west african origins and she grinned madly, held hands with the audience and gave us her last tired final everything so that we could remember this special show, her first appearance in toronto.

as they jammed without end, she explained the tradition of twenty five minute songs to the crowd... i can't speak highly enough about this concept. the african band has a few things on the western band - stamina, instrumental freedom, and of course rhythms. Take for example, the Egypt 80 (originally played with Fela Kuti, now play with his son Seun, you can see them next Tuesday 8pm Harboufront - FREE show) these fellas could play for hours with a repetoire of 30min+ tracks; literally, concerts go all night. Note that this is in part because no self respecting artist would send their loyal fans out into the dark Lagos night. Hence concerts must last until sunrise, effectively for the crowd's sake, to ensure their safe return home (they live to tell the tale i suppose.) but also because we love the beat and so we follow the beat, we do not lead it, we don't push or prod or stop short, we follow where she takes us and we are patient because we know there will be a surreal climax and a sweet come-down.

to undestand what i mean by instrumental freedom one must listen to Salif Keita, Habib Koite, Baaba Mal - these musicians are not bound by any sound structures, guitars can play parts of melodies and harmonies that might be sung or beat on a drum - no matter - all instruments make all sounds and all sounds mesh and make music.

rhythm - nuff said. what can result in the continent where the beat began? but the best of the best of the bestbestbest. The range is astounding, from addis to abidjan to kinshasa to jo'burg to cairo to madagascar to cape verde to darfur to desert to coast to mountaintop and back again -endless different paces, beats, breakdowns, cadences, tones.... with every people in every place there is a sound they make... this sound is different and definite and undisguised... it is shocking and fast or haunting and slow or jarring and both.

the ayo show was fantastic. she is as she says, from everywhere. a beauty. take a listen, something will take you away.

boonaa mohammed - spoken word

see/hear/learn more at http://www.boonaa.com/

closing the "cuba loop" -

i've been posting here and there about cuban reforms and fidel's health, more specifically if reforms mean the man is dead. This article assuages my fears, reporting that there is no rift and fidel is aware and accepting of changes... not that anybody has seen him since July '06... as i'm posting this, i'm checking myself, because do i really trust aussie news?

i am ignoring the sinking feeling that fidel died a long time ago, maybe one of those scares that made miami's cuban exiles take to the streets and block traffic with glee...

understand, there exists an older generation of caribbean folk who highly esteem the revolutionary leader of one tiny island in the face of an enormous powerful continent - i am the daughter of one such west indian, niece to another, and so on. at the dinner table, my mother, aunt and uncle spoke with dreamy nostalgia and complete respect of an island in the archipelago able to gain and maintain its independance. understand we are trini - the island colonized not once, not twice, not thrice but FOUR times - the dutch, the french, the spanish, the british - everybody wants a damn piece.

when i travelled to cuba i understood there are opposing sentiments, but i can't shake the love. but this it it, the loop is officially closed.

cerrado. nada mas. disculpame.

strange news from africa

The year began with disputed elections and violence in Kenya

Followed by frightening stories of xenophobia from South Africa (continued into this month)

And recent news from Zimbabwe is not good.

This news does not air on our daily national broadcasts; we are not informed of root causes, we hear no analysis, we get no updates. I've heard alot this year about earthquakes and floods. But Africa has its share of "natural"-type-climate-related concerns too - still, largely unnoticed. I mean, they're quite sensational stories with twisting plots and unreal characters, good and bad and very bad. What gives?

-

I am afraid

I am afraid to tell my beloved
That I love her;
Jugged wine
Loses something when its poured out.

-Nizar Qabbani

anyone?

who can tell me what is really happening in Zimbabawe?

love on the streetcar,

(hard girl) snuck glances through dark sunglasses

(soft girl) fingered her lapel and laughed lightly

(hard girl) braced her girl's body,
secured hands on steel bars,
forearms touch and hairs bristle

(soft girl) stole a look at her face when she looked away
and smiled sweetly

funny man died on sunday

george carlin passed away this weekend. he was a funny man, an angry man, but a very clever comedian who made an audience laugh at where we've gotten ourselves... politics, social classes, norms, economics, religon, history... brilliant but the truth of it is often sad and/or shocking.

enjoy the clip - my own first introduction to carlin:

citizen journalism

you can make news too at http://www.nowpublic.com/ (vancouver-based!!)

as a rule

as a rule
i do not
open my mail

i let it pile
i do not file

it can collect dust
toss it if you must

but i will not check it
i prefer to fake it

let you assume
bills get paid
let you presume
the rents not late

i can miss
pizza delivery deals
i don't need
newspaper delivery deals

phone bill
credit card statement
bank notice
airmiles special

everything
addressed
to me
is useless.
i won't open it.

sorry.
it's a rule.

how hard is it really?

please find
somebody
who has
the wherewithal
the time
the mind
to love.

change for cuba?

The EU has dropped their embargo against Cuba. Read more here.

This comes on the tail of big changes since Raul assumed presidency in July 2006... what does it all mean? I'm asking you, seriously, what does it mean?

Trip to Cuba anyone? I fear it will soon become an island unlike the Cuba I recall...

the age of free package-free music?

well i think it's coming.

i went to a last gang records show last week and asked if EPs were for sale and the fella behind the table said "Nope, but these are free," pointing to cds and lps with six tracks compiled by last gang. Not a joke - free. brilliant! because we all know people are going to rip anyways, why not throw your logo all over the packaging and give it away? Recipients will end up sharing while singing the praises of a record company that freely distributes their artists' goods - in this spirit, here is my new music game mantra: give the people what they want.

now the question becomes how? are cds finally going out of style? are digital downloads the future of your cumbersome cd collection? no disc, no case, no slipcover with track list - you might get a lil' ol USB stick instead or just a link if we're really lucky...

Girl Talk is a DJ who is doing something very interesting with his new album Feed the Animals (aside from the fact that his music is atypical to say the least - he's taken the simple sample to the nth degree... but i admit it my head was bopping in places.) You'll find that the link from his myspace page leads to a page where you decide and manually enter what you are going to pay. there's somewhat of a sliding scale in that you get more for paying a little more but basically you are free to enter '0' and pay nothing as long as you tell why (there's quite a list of possible responses) and you never had to leave your desk or remove that hinky wrapping that infuriate cd-consumers.

Check out his label Illegal Art.

sunshine

i hate cities
cities cast too long a shadow
giant shadow oblitarates urban sunlight
catch it on a corner for a fleeting moment

concrete and steel make for grey weather
form wind tunnels, sharp corners
encourage cold

how to help the sunshine take hold?

i suspect
outside the city
the sun shines freely.

Adbusters at the 2008 National Conference for Media Reform

Watch this clip and you can consider yourself informed or be intrigued to know more - in which case...

Learn more about the NCMR event here.

Learn more about Adbusters here.

Learn more about media democracy here.

And here's a Canadian group working towards media democracy and an American one if you get so excited you want to sign a petition or something.

anti climactic

i am sad
it's no fun

i am mad
i can't come

i am jealous
full of spite

i am static
must take flight

but i am sad
change won't come

i am mad
what can be done?

terry lynn live -

Outside the bar, perched on a ledge is a thin frame under a lowered fro. She is casual in jeans, heels and sunglasses - i suspect it's 'her,' but I'm unsure, so I go inside (she's can't possibly be on time, can she? is that her? isn't she taller?) and wait for the show. Of course, it was Terry Lynn; I know this when the same solitary woman saunters on stage, peers into the crowd, stretches out one hand and proceeds to rock tha mic.

With support from Toronto's own Ro'Dolla, Terry Lynn dropped her original style on an entirely unsuspecting crowd - little do they know this female, jamaican act is about to blast through the industry's sensibilities, beat down the audience's median expectations and blow up the international music scene.

Remember when we first heard grime? The newness of the beats with the heavy speed of the lyrics disturbed hip hop heads - showed 'em how across an ocean a completely different context can breed equally ingenius music - this is it all over again, but better because there's no genre yet, just terry lynn, standing alone between electronic sound and JA DJ flow, holding the two together with everything she's got.

And she's got it all. you know that 'it' they talk about? terry, with her hard chat and delicate features, with her dark shades and broad smile, with her waterhouse broughtupsie and worldly sense is bringing kingston logic hard - shut your mouth and listen, "dream it, plan it, chance it, risk it, bring your guns, machete, ratchet..."

Don't be afraid, fusion is the future.

say what raul?

i love castro... when i say castro i mean fidel.

and this makes me think he's really dead.
doesn't matter how many times chavez claims it ain't so.
dammit.

remembering medgar evers

On this day in 1963 Medgar Evers was shot dead by the white citizens council -

canada cuts checks to residential school survivors

harper signed off on some big dollars and
stood up in the front of the house and
talked for ten plus minutes...

a step forward for repatriations?
a sign of change?
a show of lipservice?
a strategic move in the game?

i can't sleep anymore

i can't sleep anymore...

dammit. shit. f*ck me.
i shoulda never said a word
should've just sent off my
application -
now i wish you never heard
I wish i never told you
just how bad i wanted it.
I wish i never got so excited.
I wish I never wished for it.
cause now i cannot
look you in the eye
"any news?" you ask
i know i'll cry if i sigh
so instead i smile and laugh,
"nothing yet,"
and traipse away
leaving a faint trail
of everything i couldn't say -

"no i didn't make it,
well, i haven't heard back,
it appears my application
wasn't quite right
wasn't entirely on point..."

here's where you jump in
with what you think is a
helpful suggestion -
something about eggs and a basket
something about endless potential
but i'm tellin you now
i can't handle it!
dammit please just be gentle!
cause your kindness is killin
it's stealin and robbin
any glimmer of hope
left in my heart, in my head
i just feel trashed, thrashed and
left for dead
so, now is when
you tell me again,
something about
there's always
a next time
friend...

queen ifrica - reggae raising issues

Salute to Queen Ifrica for releasing singles that create conversation around practices that are widespread and taboo, namely skin bleaching and child abuse.

Now, bleaching or lightening skin is common practice from asia to africa. In the west indies, all that cultural mixing has made for a color scale that is embedded into society. My aunties give me bleaching cream both because and inspite of the fact that they love me.

In Jamaica there is an interesting twist; "homophobic" sayings are littered throughout dancehall music and particularly at a dance there is a certain amount of related audience participation (flash you lighter if yuh no battiman or lesbian, etc.) BUT there will invariably be present a few groups of young men dressed in flashy jewelry (fake diamond earrings and rhinestone beltbuckles), tight pants (acid wash, tapered perhaps), sunglasses (bejeweled maybe,) stylized hair in patterns or designs and nasty, patchy, blotchy bleached out skin - standing around sipping guinness looking like strange, iffeminate, freaky ghosts ("gay" by western standards - true, our norms are pretty limited; in cuba heterosexual men can sit on each others laps). Either way, their dress is a little incongruous to "burning down" or "burning out" gays. Note that I love dancehall and have spent a post explaining the cultural context that could breed anti-homosexual attitudes. Check out the video

The next video is more self explanatory - there have recently been more and more reports of child abuse across the west indies. When I was last in Trinidad a mother and her boyfriend were arrested after it was found that both were running a sex operation with her young daughter for years including male family members and men in the neighborhood. Child abuse is especially taboo - the explicit nature of her lyrics and the video is all the more outstanding - good works, Queen Ifrica, good works.

impeach who?

kucinich, take him down!!

i want to explode, burst into invisible fragments and disappear

i turn to myself and i ask myself, i say, 'self'
then i turn to myeslf and i answer myself, i say, 'what'
i say, 'i can't love you any better than this...'
-Languid Libretto, Carl Hancock Rux

genius and truth (as spoken by friends)

"you know TO media is anti heat, right?" - Nikkhil. local news and radio stations put the fear of god in city-dwellers when the summer finally arrives by (a) exaggerating the forecast; i swear to god some days they claim it's 23C and it can't be warmer that 15C (b) broadcasting heat and smog warnings that effectively demand you remain indoors from sunrise to sunset... ("uh, excuse me, sorry, what? you musse mad. kiss me backside an' g'way." Jamilah)

"the history of music is the white man stealing the black man's sound but it started much earlier than elvis, jamilah, we began with the 4x4 beat - this originally african beat provided the musical basis for all classical music, the waltz..." - Warren. check warren and his lovely band at Not My Dog (Parkdale, TO) open mike nights most every wednesday.

"in alota ways, the planet still operate on some the-world-is-flat type philosphy; dated and plain wrong..." - Moses. i'm paraphrasing slightly here but you get the gist.

"Stick with me, kid." Nehal. nuff said.

good people party

well you can't deny it sounds like a good time. let me confirm formally - it was.

imagine a steamy saturday night on queen street west
imagine a room full of beautiful, familiarish faces
imagine a roster one dozen plus strong

some belong to the honour rebel society
a relation of the district six family
zaki opened with improvisational soul
tanika held it down - she ain't back up no mo'
boonaa - wow. straight blew my mind,
obie dropped something new inna reggae style
kush stayed low key on the bass in the back,
grimace love's flow remains tight on the track,
nana kept the vibes all night
brendan demanded silence and he was quite right.
to those i didn't mention, thank you - the night was a delight
too many acts to name and not a single fight
but Theo 3's bag stolen meant no USB
hope you get it back, still the acapella was a treat
on the whole no ill words, just love in the room
if you saw the ladies, oh, they'da made you swoon
i'll tell you it was the evening of the long dress
betcha didn't know ankle length could make a man sweat...

going back to cali

often flabbergasted by new hip hop,
i am glad to find that the west coast
continues to represent -

U.N.I. and Pacific Division are worth checkin out

in a handbasket

how can we
be blind
to the signs

under no circumstances -

do not curse the heat
do not sigh or mutter
do not hem n' haw
do not curse the heat

i have survived the winter
i have been submitted to the cold
i have decided to leave
bag lady
alone

so i will stay the summer
but leave before the winds return
and i won't have you disturbing
the heat that i have earned

the heat

today the heat came dirty - the way it does on the east coast; humid, muggy, intense heat - beautiful. i love it. it's like a gift. it's like good behavior leave after serving a long sentence of solitary confinement. and now is when we all enjoy it - later, people begin to hate the heat and wish for breeze and cool - i will still love it. make it 31 everyday. make it hotter. make it so hot i have to bathe in the evening. like i did this evening, take a short nap just to get dolled up again.. the streets are cooler now.. perfect for walking to a party... how could i not head out to a jam known as 'the good people party'...

new meaning to the word ruckus

i love the word ruckus, it connotes noise and strife and rebel and especially taking action because one must make a ruckus, they don't just exist independant of action, you gotta push and pull and make, throw, raise, cause a ruckus.

so I seriously enjoyed this democracy now report about the Ruckus Society, a group that trains citizens in civil disobediance in today's world with a focus on media; a great place to start in my opinion - we are a people consumed by misinformation and disinformation, a people abused by an absence of quality information, news and commentary - listen to democracy now and read the guardian, if you fear daily that news is dying (like I do.)

not good at grown up -

I am not good at grown up
Checking mail
Balancing budgets
Wholesome dinners
Regular exercise
It seems I am not capable of these things

Whereas I am very good at
Existential exploration
Social conversation
Spending way outside my income
And generally living at random.

I figure I ought to stay a kid or flee western society
That infantilizes, then reprimands
only to follow with more demands of normalcy.

like water i guess

those who know me know that i have spent the two short years since graduation (just a wee lil undergraduate type thingie) feeling more or less like water - spilled all over, impossible to hold, fleeting, transient, fluid, ... then when contained (read employed) i feel stale, limited, no restricted, on the edge of turning sour and discolored.

as a student it's easy to pick up purpose from a program or a project
as a friend it's easy to pick up purpose for a time
as a woman it's easy to pick up purpose from a man (Zaki Ibrahim, Computer Girl "Will you ever need me just like i need you, make my life smooth, show me what do do")

as myself, I have some simple sense of purpose (live, learn, teach, write) but much confusion remains as to how to get to the doing in an active, consistent way... in reflection... maybe i make it too complicated... i'll figure it out. trust.

either way, this article, resonates with me like a old brick dashed away into a bottomless pond.

ThinkToronto

Spacing Toronto is giving young city dwellers the opportunity to present their plan to improve public space!

Basic rules - you must be Canadian, 35yrs or younger, individual or groups of up to 3 and you can submit AS MANY PLANS AS YOU WISH!!

Check out the ThinkToronto Campaign here. Submission deadline: September 22nd, 2008

again about the work - sorry.

sitting here on the 36th floor in this tower i am suffocating.
i tug at the top of my black turtleneck sweater;
is that what is choking me?
i squint and wince
feign polite salutations to passerbys
i swallow salty saliva vomit
keep the screams down
there is a dulling sensation at my temples
i fear my mind is oozing from my ears invisible
it appears i am most inconscpicous
they don't heed me
stealing pens and notebooks and faking phsyical presence
they don't see me
scribbling furisouly under my desk whenever ideas descend

good.

please stop askin me bout obama

it is only too convenient obama will run to be president for what will arguably be the four darkest years in American history (what makes a better scapegoat than a women? I know, a black man!) - it's like winning a prize and opening the bag only to find a steaming pile of doodoo that you never smelled coming. fool. leave it to crazy mccain (not that x amount of years in a POW camp wouldn't leave us all a little loopy.)

a little explanation to ze post below -

i suck at talking to dudes (engage in a conversation with a man i don't know who gives me feeling, i mean)

so on saturday when the frenchman pressed against me
i explained coyly, "je m'excuse mais il faut s'eloigner,
on se regarde dans les yeux, on est presser serrer
- depuis quand est ce qu'on se connais?"

so sometimes i'll convince myself we're friends
still i might be secretly attracted to you.
but if i face it, sorry, friendship's over
cause it seems i can't talk to dudes.

the courrier came back

the courrier came back and the mail room fellas notified me as per my very serious instructions and i sat at my desk petrified - now he's gone. i'm still here. sweet. wanna talk about skills? i have zero.

get famous (say it dirty, like 'get lost')

celebrity is a sickness
we are all obsessed - don't deny it.
them with us (that we hate or love; any strong sentiment)
we with them (we love to hate openly & hate that we love secretly)
quite defeats the point of movie-making
audiences relate face/name to fact/rumour
it is impossible to become the character
when the myth of you is social structure
and your face is marketing material
now the role, scene and story
are all unreal, unbelievable, untenable.
(better to rent a foreign film.)

a laugh (if you know me)

I called a flight centre to talk to a friend, gave my name (Jamilah pronounced ja-mee-la) and was greeted by my friend bustin' a gut -

why? because her co-worker said, "There's a Jimmy Rizlink is on the phone for you"

Jimmy Rizlink - nice... i think if i get "famous" that'll be my hotel reservation fake name...

better yet, if i get into the rap game, i think i've got myself a serious emcee alias - don't you?

World Food Summit - up to the minute reports

The UN has gone high tech - visit the Food Summit live feed

But watch out - The Guardian has got a newsblog on the summit

ActionAid has produced the following with The Elders :

it seems rap is in overhaul, mind you, they doin it well overseas

since my first RAP TRAXX tapes, i have loved the music... i'm sure we can all agree hip hop has largely gone to hell since our youth, but recent findings have me convinced that rap is in transformation and preparing for one helluva comeback.

some recent findings include:

the cool kids and the shapshifters in the states

the 84.85 and times neue roman in canada

but more recent findings have me convinced that France is doing it better;

i loved french rappers in the days of IAM, mc solaar and saian supa crew (thank god one former member is back with new ish this year vicelow's blue tape came out in April, ex-bandmate sir samuel released vize pli o in 2005 - these boys make my heart heave, so so luverly) but the scene stays hype with TTC who call their style "music for kids with hoverboards" - group members don't stop at one group, check em out: la caution , tido berman , teki latex , cuizinier... and it seems french djs are more organized than the mafia - see parisdjs.com

here are some links to help you stay up on the french rap scene:
lucky for anglophones, YO LA LA produces an english podcast to stay up on french hip hop

bboykonsion.com is a site devoted to french hip hop and reggae artists (in french)

and frenchrap.de is home to super current, underground mixtapes (in french)
...

faut bien ecouter cheri(e),
c'est la verite ce qu'ils disent,
car le rap francais laisse le banlieu s'exprime.

dear reader

eyes on this page
electronic affirmation
i exist

random thoughts
tailored template
paint a picture

of my person
wish i had
one of you

thank you
reader

rims in my periphery

as a person who would give her right eye to see better out of the left (not even like fighter-pilot improve, just like marginal-can-see-out-fifteen-feet-clearly improve) this article "Beyond Glasses" really gave me hope. seriously. traveling with glasses is the lamest.

aahhh mix tapes...

I used to distribute mix tapes under the alias Dj Jams (i know, not too original) all over highschool... but none to crushes, so i guess i can't submit anything to these guys but if you're still holding on to a tape for or from and old flame, why not submit it for digital reproduction online at cassettefrommyex.com - very cool.

plastic bags - the plight of the third world (or "developing world" if that makes you feel better, kind reader)

i hate plastic bags.

mostly i hate them abroad, more so in impoverished places where plastic bags exist in excess, i'm thinkin of trips to nicaragua, burkina, india, jamaica (where they're aptly termed 'scandal bags' - i guess cause they rustle and crinkle so much, carrying contents secretly is impossible) where I've seen plastic bags in abundance - at the beach, scuttling across deserts, all over the market, on the side of the road, down ravines, embedded into the earth (seemingly taken root and growing like part of the natural fauna) EVERYWHERE.

the problem is so huge a few countries (and one North American city) are taking steps against the proliferation of plastic bags including India, China and Ireland. while i was at home in Vancouver at the end of '06, i was a anti-plastic bag crusader, telling friends, family and strangers to RESIST and RE-USE; do not accept any more plastic bags and use your old ones, better yet, buy a cloth one! More often than not, you just don't need it - toss your purchase in your shoulder bag, your bike basket, your pocket or HOLD it (hence hands). One friend said this was a revelation and was shocked at the response of the grocery bagger when he first began to refuse, "Jamilah, it was like kickin drugs - the dude was like, 'here, take the plastic bag sir, you'll need it! take it!!' and i was all, "no man, i'm cool, it's cool!!' seriously i though he was gonna chase me down..."

But what about all the plastic bags in the dump? One Canadian 16yr old kid has the answer!

blackwater - legal blackhole

Nisoor Square massacre September 16th 2007 - Get the story here

Jeremy Scahill author of bestseller Blackwater: The Rise of the World's Most Powerful Mercenary Army speaks:



Paperback version released today.

the boardroom

i hate the boardroom
now i'm bored
stiff as a board
i play dead
and i play dumb
i needn't -
they assume the latter
i hate the boredroom

white privilege poster poy

there's a young fellow in "the scene" i've met a couple of times through mutual friends (good people, people who do good work for, people i respect) and every time i see him he's busy shouting some garbage and he inspires the most irritating nausea in me; i don't know whether to punch him or puke on him. but i held it down (literally,) came home and scribbled this -

Your smug entitlement and ignorant oblivion
Do not so much as offend so much as make me feel dirty.
You squawk and flail to prove how far you’ve traveled
Just print your passport stamps on a t-shirt and spare me.

in spite of the miles, you've learned nothing at all.
if this world had made any impression, you wouldn't have the gall.

talent abounds - open your eyes

rolled by my neighbour warren's last night and he sat down with his guitar to sing me an original that summed up how i feel about fleeing to places far away-

"is it selfish?
is it simply honest?
i never wanted to go,
i only wanted to know."

he's got a brilliant political tune about a man who is pleased when a billboard goes up in front of his living room window blocking the view of the lake because,

"the sign changes everyday but the lake,
the lake always stays the saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaame!!!"

you can see warren and his sexy all female band almost weekly at open mic at Not My Dog (Parkdale, TO) open mic night every wednesday. Ask him about 'the unconscious conscious collective.'

no regular visit to the bank

so i left my desk merely to get a draft check for the rent (bah) and ended up having a most pleasant chat with a friendly teller (a cuter, cooler shaggy from scooby doo type) who professed to be "a musician". i asked about open mics for a friend of mine because i assumed that this fellow was a guitar playing indie kinda guy until he looked down and around and added that actually he's a rapper (shh, quite the top secret information inside the bank walls). i was a wee surprised.

so we exchange info and back at my desk i was almost alarmed (sorry colin) to find that the kid is a most talented emcee, like a for real rapper, with flow and style and newness - check out The 84.85 (two dudes, one on beats, one on ryhmes.) i was so impressed i left my desk and walked across the street to tell him so.

so dude works at the bank and i'm across the street in another financial tower; "musician" and "writer."

how tragic.

news that isn't news but it is news dammit

Killing in South Africa

The Elders speak on Aung San Suu Kyi

The case of the floating severed feet, Vancouver

about to go postal

i am beginning to sympathize
with madmen who turn loose
on former places of employment

in these last days it grows darker
i bite my tongue too often
feels chewed clean off now

how dare you presume
to ask me about paper cups in the kitchen
makes me wish i had an automatic weapon.

Jamaican electronica... wha? yah, fe reeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaal

umm, i ain't neva heard of heavy techno comin from the west indies
(and i'm trini)
and i ain't neva been super hip to "techno" per se
(cept my raver phase in highschool which left a lingering love for drumnbass, jungle and triphop)

BUT I CAN'T STOP LISTENING TO TERRY LYNN of kingston, jamaica -
sickest beats, baddest flow - check it out.

the pics are courtesy of Peter Dean Rickards, editor of First Magazine (yes, the same mag i been hailin up for days now cause it's deep - i feel First - i want to show love to my peoples in the west indies who are packaging raw culture in glossy, artistic, edgy ways for mainstream to swallow but not without some difficulty and discomfort. kudos first. kudos. trinidad needs a first fe real... hmmm)

Castro responds to Obama

FIRST magazine, a brilliant Jamaican magazine with wicked daily posts, posted Castro's response to Obama's recent speech from
Granma International, a newspaperbased out of Havana, Cuba.

Astute observations Fidel.

You may question the response's authenticity but remember that's what they want.

And I'm no conspiracy theorist.

But maybe I am a red-coat commie castro-lover.

You decide.

i think i'm dyin'

i think i'm dyin',
these artificial lights are toxic
this air conditioning is pneumonic
i can't breathe -
deadlines and deliverables form a death grip
i can't see -
stress standing over me stabbing at my neck
bobbin and weavin, shoulders at my ears,
i wonder, am i still here?'
wait, i think my soul rescued my spirit and fled
but i can't hear - they left my insides raw and howling
oh god, i'm bleeding out all over my monitor
i think i'm dyin'.

you gotta watch this

i can't embed the track, but click and listen

makes me wanna say aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

taste of the lyrics -
bloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodblood....

mad mothers and black daddies

in the same weekend i heard a new track from this girl that opens

"Aint' no daddies where i'm from, it's just mad mothers," (that line dropped on me like a ton of bricks. it's interesting to me because my absent father story is an anomoly compared to the current context...)

i met a fellow named brandon hay who has organized The Black Daddies Club here in Toronto. i must say i was pleased and pleasantly surprised.

they are a new and growing group, so please tell the young and old black fathers you know (i'm told the former ask the questions and the latter answer and reflect on the new yet familier realities) as well as black mothers of sons - i argued vehemently that they need to be included (and met no opposition - thank you brandon.)

yes, some daddies are absent, but some daddies are trying - big up brandon and all the black daddies club daddies.

pluggin artists - check them out

crazysicklivefreshamazinblowingmymind artists

- click and listen:

NNEKA

TERRY LYNN

listen to every track, watch every image
from nigeria to jamaica black women be droppin wisdom all over you
i suggest soaking it all in.

waiting,

waiting for someone to review my application and make their selection
waiting for someone to say, yes, you can come too
come to the village and ditch all those western, those tedious, those odious ways
come and find your peace in the bustle of the outdoor market,
in the quiet of a bath with a bucket,
in the haunting key of dawn's call to prayer,
in the pain and laughter of faces like your face,
in tongues that tickle with tones and musical cadence
in the distance and loneliness that far-off places afford

and if they say, sorry, you don't make the cut then...
i'll have to make my own.
that's not so bad i say,
(that part of me knows they can't tell me either way)
but lawd, i just wanna be through with the wait.

'taint much but it's for you friend

i want to tell you everything
i want it all to spill from my mouth,
gushing violent foam-capped waves
i want it all to seep from my pores
in blinding colors that stain red, green and gold
i want it all to grow from my roots
and push out this hair, embed secrets into the air
i want it all to beat down like sunlight,
to bear down like heat,
to reveal itself to me,
appear and become clear to me. for you.

(then i'll crank the volume,
blow the speakers
and deafen us all with my sound.)

thursday night at the fights

i've been debating posting this it's so crazy - great photography from this JA magazine

wee bit of context -
denham town is up the road from tivoli gardens, kingston JA (just down from the bus loop and the indoor and outdoor markets.) the denham town police station sits squarely between the two neighborhoods on old spanish town road looking too rundown to loom over passerbys. police rarely venture into either hood - there is no need, both denham town and tivoli are managed, patrolled and surveilled under the watchful eyes of the don, his gunmen and an army of unsuspecting lookouts.
during my last visit to tivoli, a measly 1000JA ($20CDN) was thief'd from me - a fact unbeknownst to me until i was alerted by a local friend who inquired obsequiously how recently i had counted my money as if to say 'idiat girl, if yuh nah know wey yuh money dehdeh, ah me know it nah dehdeh!!' the don was notified and said or did what was necessary to have my money returned to me by sunset - no lie - i have never experienced something similar in my travels.
if police and/or jamaican defense forces enter either area, there is always bloodshed on both sides - i don't know why the state continues these futile attempts to parade power over the poor and powerless because between the don, his gunmen and the lookouts - as long as you got people in tivoli or denham lookin out for you - it is relatively safe (unless you have perpetrated something against someone and only then are you then slated to die, get yours or get lost in which case you likely deserve it.)

he called it "god's work"

eyes wide with knowing, he removed each heavy ring between breaths then carefully lifted the link chain over his locks and placed all the silver bedside as if to honor of the space her skin filled and in reverence of the shadows she cast.

she did not speak but curves whispered against sheets and when he did did not answer she placed her hand on his back so that the warmth and pressure of her palm and fingertips could say more clearly, just come, come lay down love.

fashion statement

i have always loved this turn of phrase and its conjugated usage: make a fashion statement, as if to emphasize that this is an active choice, a decision we make every morning to don ourselves in cloth - not clothes, not shirts, skirts or pants, but cloth - objectively all clothes are merely draped, tailored pieces of cloth used to cover our parts; parts that we feel are private, or that sometimes we are ashamed of, or that we feel are not permissible to expose in a given situation or context. the cloth can be cheap or expensive (mind you, it can be cheap in quality and still expensive in cost,) red or blue, short or long, functional or fashionable, but everyday we all get our of beds in the morning and throw something on - now the thought and purpose that goes into this action is debatable but i think that we all say something in performing that action, that we are all consciously or sub-consciously telling the world, "hello, my name is _____ and this is how i want you to see me (because/and) this is how i feel; this is my fashion statement today."

i love it when people take this idea and run with it; i mean dudes in skirts, "loaded" clothing (think keffiyah scarf or icons on t-shirts, like lord ganesha or a swastika or something with "shock value"), or really-ripped jeans. i love these type of items because they say, 'hey, i'm not supposed to wears this but it still works,' or 'hey, i believe in something,' or 'hey, i don't believe in "new"ness. '

i hate it when people use their precious time and money to reproduce unoriginal trends and end up happily wearing whatever everyone else is wearing (vancouver fashion - beige/black/white/grey gap/jacob variations, gortex anything and lululemon everything with a vuitton purse or man bag.)

but with times a changin so fast the way they do these days, there's a fluidity between clothes that mean something and nothing at all - note that i have recently swapped my keffiyah for a sanskrit print scarf cause people be in the streets rockin keffiyahs to death - and i literally mean death because they no longer mean anything at all, unless you're preparing for a sandstorm or something.

recently i've realized a few things about myself (among others, but i'm percolating on a synergy here) -

i can write.
i can dress.
i can express.

not necessarily in that order and not as a coherent one unit but i've been told that all three qualities are engaging - how to combine the three in something i contribute to my surroundings? i'm currently giving this some serious thought.

i mean, i feel strongly about clothes. this manifest as styling a shoot here, working with an artist there and general conversation matter mostly. and i dress with purpose. my mother says she likes to see me leave the house in the morning because it's always some different, dazzling (yes, truly, dazzling) ensemble, accented with accessories, punctuated by color, never quite the same combination of bottom, top and footwear. a second hand store addiction (i experience a high upon entering, intuitively i know there is something in the smelly store that is calling me, "Jamilah, i'm so glad you're here! i've been waiting for you" - what a rush to finally stumble upon the vintage earrings or scuffed leather boots whispering my name!!) combined with odd tastes means i have set aside a part of my closet for outfits exclusively suitable for Jamilah "on a boat" as in "ooooooooooh, that buttercup culotte jumper with a knit top is sooooooo me on a boat!!!"

monday to friday i tone it down for "the office" but they always exclaim cause i manage to cut corners here and there to drop something new or unusual on them every once in a while.

now, on weekends, that is when i go all out - it's exciting for me to put on the brightest, most eye catching piece of cloth, add an unusual touch and match it with the appropriate (or inappropriate) accessories including but not limited to earrings, shoes, scarves, sunglasses, necklaces, bracelets, anklets, rings and of course subtle touches like eyeshadows in purples, greens, golds, blues and firey red lipstick...

i'd like to argue that an unhealthy obsession with fashion is in no way dissonant to being conscious, political and bright albeit fashion is still consumption at best and is often a superficial luxury BUT I know that one of the ways I express my artistic and creative self is by my dress; I know that it sets me apart; I know that it identifies me saying,

"hello, my name is jamilah and today I want you to see me as professional, capable and bright because it's Monday and I feel blah and not quite ready for the week, so let's keep it clean-cut and simple; this is my fashion statement today."

feedback,

i met with a friend on friday and he informed me that my blog is no longer as "impactful" as when i first began - well now, can you believe it?

it's true, lately i've been saving some of my writings for a chatbook, so i'm not posting my personal stuff as often, but he's right in that i use to post alot more poetic ramblings , so hats off to my friend, i'll be back with more later.

i've been feeling inspired by zora neale hurston; reminded that writers can take up all the everyday words in the english language and spit them back out however they please to move you, to tell you the same old thing like you never heard it before.

i remember i said something in the first post about this page making me accountable - well there it is - you want impact? i'll give you impact bwoy...

a quote for today -

Here’s to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round heads in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They’re not fond of rules and they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify them, or vilify them. But the only thing you can’t do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward. And some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world are the ones who do.
-Jack Kerouac

pulled from my friend's page here

i'm a what?

i found out today that i'm a millennial and here's how they pitch to me

the "friend's" response

so i've been making reference to this "friend" throughout this debate
- please note this girl is my bredren whom i respect to the utmost -
this morning my girl clarified for me and I'll share with you cause my girl is on point on her point which i did not clearly/correctly convey (as I knew i would, see disclaimer in initial post) -

as someone who writes on the daily, of course i write about stuff that may not be necessarily drawn from my own experiences. fiction gives you permission to create narratives that aren't derived from your own. that's the essence and beauty of fiction. but: politics aren't fiction. and the obvious problem with artistic license is that it leads to ish like blackface. Jamilah, you're wrong because i do believe that people can talk about experiences that they don't claim but when you're talking about factual experiences that don't belong to you, you have to explain your positionality and you can't turn around and shove your politics down my throat when you're using "Other" narratives to make your point!

my new favorite lyric -

YOU SAY YOU BE THE BLOCK

BUT I'M THE LIGHTS THAT KEEP THE STREETS ON.

happy birthday brother malcom

yesterday malcolm x would have been 83 years old. how i wish we had a modern day malcolm...

here is a clip to commemorate but his message speaks to the previous posts -

continued, thank you for your comments,

sunday sunday sunday, time to think and continue the conversation below -

first, thanks to people for conversing through comments.

if the dilemma i tried to express in the a vs. b format wasn't quite clear, here's a simpler breakdown (though i didn't really want to say it in these explicit terms) -

can white people talk about the oppression of black people?

there are a lot of variations of this question that all boil down to cultural appropriation and the intention one has when purporting to express something that is not organic to their background (that clear?); here another case that's less heated but similarly about culture -

on friday i went to see dylan murray at revival - great show, kid is talented, unsigned but bout to blow. check him out, he's a good kid, been going back and forth to JA for years, teaches english down there and keeps a recoding studio. respect.

i used to watch him sing at open mic night at irie on monday and i remember the first time i heard him i was awestruck because this lil' white bwoy has a voice on him like bob marley is his illegitimate father and when he broke into a track that went like this, "high grade weed a bun' inna de place, plaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaace" I wondered to myself, 'how many jamaica stamps does a canadian require in order to write a song as authentic as this?' I turned to infamous dj carl allen with this question and asked, "how many times dis bwoy gone a yard?" him say, "nuff," me say, "him sound good bwoy," him say, "trust."

it is important to note the difference in these two examples, but funnily enough i knew that my friend offended by invincible would similarly be offended by dylan as they both presumed to relay an experience that she does not agree is theirs to tell.

now i must add that my mother (whom i respect to no end and is not by any means "militant") was quick to state that she completely understands my friend's sentiment. she sighed and aired her personal worries in immigrating to vancouver in '86; now her child has grown up to close too "white" people and as such would be broken to accept this type of reasonable reasoning.

this is true, i have been relatively sheltered/blessed and i have never been explicitly/personally oppressed by white individuals in my short life in any way that has significantly broken my spirit or impeded my self-development (though my black skin has been trying in my fair share of situations) - that statement does not negate the fact that we all live in a world of white privilege - this truth cannot be denied by most reasonable people, black, white, yellow, purple, red...

here's how i feel - my experience has been that experience is not tied to race. furthermore race is often tricky; these days you can be born in tokyo and raised in luxembourg by kenyan parents and who knows where your allegiance would lie. even more worrisome is that skin and physical traits do not definitively belie one's origins, sometimes they deceive in fact. case in point: i appear "black" but i am half nigerian and half trinidadian (further caveat - indo trinidadian, east indian or south asian by was of the west indies; note that indo trinidadians are outright racist against blacks - interesting experience for me, e.g. my aunts love me dearly but ply me with bleaching cream) ... as such i don't think i could/would write a poem with reference to apartheid... hmmm, maybe that's the point.

either way in this complicated reality i feel that we cannot condemn each other by silencing each other. we can't lord words over each other. we ought to try to understand the full context of our words and use them with the most respectful intention and strive to communicate the part of every experience that is human - when this doesn't work (inevitable), be prepared for an earful.

oh lawd, my friend is gonna read this and tell me i'm a flower wavin, bleary eyed hippie on about, "give peace a chance" but seriously, i mean, c'mon man, give it a chance.

on the anniversary of al-nakba and the creation of isreal, i went to a hip hop show

with 2 acts:

opening was Invincible, as well as Finale, both of the finest in detroit MCs.

headline was DAM, Da Arabian MCs, hailed as the first and only hip hop group of its kind.

the twist?

Invincible is a jewish female rapper and DAM is composed of three arab muslim rappers from the slums of Lod, Israel, performing together on the sixtieth anniversary of a day celebrated by some as Isreal's birthday and others as Palestine's catastrophe.

crazy. the show was so so so hype and i thoroughly enjoyed it. sometimes one of the most important elements an MC has to offer - flow - is not easily translated into german, russian, thai - and all the languages on this green earth that hip hop infiltrated from its brooklyn birth, its graph/bboy/beatbox beginnings.

though i don't speak a lick of arabic ('cept Insha'Allah, Salam Alaikum and my names - that's bout it) i felt like 'yo, flow knows flow, and i know these MCs got flow though fe real' cause they were wicked on the mic, i mean wicked on the mic, crazy variation of rhythm/style, punctuation of beats, i even detected some joke-dropping - these guys were just doing what they do best.

And you know hip hop hands right? It is easy to fake the gestures that fly when a MC gets on a mic, but these guys were so genuine in their movements - but watch how culture contests - at one point, one fella held his hands almost in a gesture muslim prayer, palms up and open, fingers pressed close together held out in front of his chest; with the mic between one thumb and forefinger, head slightly lowered and eyes closed i wished for a picture in that instant - suppose i'll have to remember...

most impressive are their beats - wholly integrated hip hop and traditional music - ancient and present, rural and urban all at once. there was a point when the crowd was singing back salam alaikum to busta rhymes "touch it" beat - pretty nutso but trust that i was shouting my face off.

now I have yet to discuss the opening act- very very very talented MCs I felt and of course the beats were sickwickedgood (detroit kills hip hop beats, forget a too-easy sample or a cheesy loop, i'm talkin quality produced music) but the white female rapper ryhmin about apartheid raised a heated discussion amongst myself and a good friend of mine. now i can't completely relay her opinion but basically it went down like this

'black oppression ie. apartheid is off limits for a white MC's lyrics; when she and i are equal all over she can talk about it' vs. 'c'mon experience is not always tied to race, we all gotta cooperate to change, respect that she respects the cause'

i'll continue this later,

not normal

I am not normal.

I do not fit in (-side the box.)

I am not contented by weeks that go by the same (in fact I find the thought disturbing).

I am not amused by banter (in fact banter makes my ears bleed).

I am not interested in the norm (in fact disinterest is not severe enough a word, offended might do).

And I realize that I look outward (at my geographic location, profession or program) at times because it is only when all the tedious routines, all the shallow systems and structures, all the painful patterns fall away and I find myself in some foreign far flung place -

only then am i truly myself, truly at peace.

An Anniversary

Today is the 60th anniversay of al-Nakba.

Respect/Love/Care to all those still suffering out there.

Da Arabian MCs

Check these guys out here.

Get the story here.

Performing tonight at El Mocambo!!! (College and Spadina)

It's not a joke - rap lives abroad. It mostly died in this western hemisphere but it lives on and thrives in impoverished streets and slums all over the globe.

G-unit, Puff, Fat Joe and aaaaaaaaaaaall dem deh (meaning et al) ought to take a lesson from rappers like these fellas who still spit lyrics about the struggle against oppression and authority.

fe real. dem nah easy star.

zaki music

the concert was live.

zaki cradles the mic between her fingers like it's precious.

sometimes she opens her mouth so wide and the sound that flies out is like life, it's out side of her, reverberating, but also welling up in her chest and throat and her voice fills the space like waves rushing from her mouth.

no genre. no label. no hype. just sound.

check it out.

how they grow...

when i first arrived in this city I began working at Irie Food Joint on Queen West and I'm certain that the vast majority of my close TO relationships are in some way touched by my stay there.

If I were to get picked up by police, I would call my old boss.

When people hail me up in the street, it's often cause i used to serve them curry chicken communista, jerk chicken salad, rasta pasta or seafood gumbo (mmmmmmm...)

and many of the beautiful burgeoning artists and producers I know have passed through or worked there at times - one such individual is one lovely Zaki Ibrahim.

tonight Zaki is performing at the Mod Club (college and grace) to signal the release of her new (and second) EP Eclectica (episodes in purple). here's a preview.

this is music to support, to celebrate, to live to.

get this

South African Apartheid Suit to Proceed
The Supreme Court said Monday that it can’t intervene in an important dispute over the rights of South African apartheid victims to sue US corporations in US courts, because four of the nine justices had to sit out the case over apparent conflicts. The lawsuit accuses dozens of prominent US corporations of violating international law by assisting South Africa’s former apartheid government. Because the court couldn’t reach quorum, the court was forced to uphold an appeals court ruling allowing the suit to proceed. For the record, Chief Justice John Roberts owns Hewlett-Packard stock. Justice Stephen Breyer owns stock in Colgate-Palmolive, Bank of America, IBM and Nestle. Justice Samuel Alito holds shares in Exxon Mobil and Bristol-Myers Squibb. Meanwhile, Justice Anthony Kennedy sat out the case because his son is a managing director at the investment bank Credit Suisse.
http://www.democracynow.org/2008/5/13/headlines#14

crushing

i have an immense problem around crushing - point in case - i just fell deeply in love with a courrier.

i mean dude came out of the elevator and all i could do was exhale in a brother's direction, my eyes like saucers, heart beating out of my chest.

good thing dude didn't even notice - story of my everlovin life.

can't stop thinkin,

how lovely it is to bathe with a bucket.

have you ever bathed with a bucket?

a bucket and a small dish to cup water.

a rag and a bar of soap.

simple, brisk and frugal.

quick calculations of the requisite water to wet and to rinse come naturally

the dregs are not to be dashed, the dregs are heavenly -

i put my two hands firmly on the rim, raise it over my head and spill what my dish cannot scoop over my head, neck and face. done.

if you thought dancehall was all whine this, badman that, then watch this -

I love dancehall music. For all it's hyper sexualized lyrics and extremely violent content, I love dancehall. The homophobia makes me stop in the dance and frown I must admit, but that element is a sociocultural phenomena related to religion on the island (not historically local customs, rather it is a legacy of the king james bible of colonial powers,) related to the idea of the badman (a result of the returned deportees cycle; since independence men go abroad, see crime on a large scale, go to jail, get deported and presume to replicate it on a small, hot island accustomed to natural threats like hurricanes) and related to a certain macho attitude which I'm told began with exposure to westerns but is influenced by local customs and values.

we can't forget that music fertilized in "tha streets" always offers insightful social commentary that we all ought to listen closely to.

here's a brilliant example brought to us by vybz kartel -