The Breakfast Club: Moho Edition

Summer 2009, I met my very own Breakfast Club. Instead of 5 semi strangers, we were 8; instead of detention, we were working, and we were all female.

My Breakfast Club worked for the Mount Holyoke Admission office!

We were a mix match of people, all from different walks of life, and we all had our little quirks. Mine being my inability to make a box cake! Somehow these 8 different people came together not only in Mount Holyoke’s Admission office, but we became friends outside too.

We laughed, argued, and watched me cry at MJ’s funeral service together. We had dinners, potluck Mondays, and many a birthday celebrations. We shared our interests in books, music and the Office. We even became college celebrities of sorts, starring in a Why Mount Holyoke Video.

One of the the things I learnt about during that summer was Jazz.

Breakfast Cluber Nicky Nox Chambers is an avid Jazz enthuse. She listens to, reads and studies a whole lot of Jazz, I’m surprised she wasn’t a Jazz major! I learnt a bit from her, and I’m gratefully a jazz novice.

Prior to the summer with my Breakfast Club, I barely listened to Jazz, and could not differentiate between Dizzy Gillespie and Miles Davis. As I expand my musical tastes, I like to not only listen to them, but read about them too.

So this past August, while at a quirky home book store in Portland, Oregon, I came across LeRoi Jones’ Blues People.

Blues People: The Negro Experience in White America and the Music that Developed From It (1963)
LeRoi Jones
William Marrow and Company

I clearly was not ready to read this book. As I said I am a Jazz (and Blues) novice at best. I should be reading the Paul and Jane versions of  Blues books; instead, I began with the Plato’s The Republic.

Nonetheless it was a fascinating read. Thanks to my Liberal Arts education I understood the framework of the book and really valued the explanations given. Even though I got bogged down by terminology and names of musicians, the book speaks about the transformation of the Black American psyche from slavery to then’s present day, and the story is told through Blues and Jazz.

LeRoi Jones isolated the musical transformation of Black America, but his discourse is applicable throughout the lives of Black America. I felt as if I could extend his argument until present day america, and none of the sentiments would be lost. A question that I would pose is, can we apply the same critic of White American’s adaptation and great success in a musical culture they don’t truly belong to or understand, to the ascendance of so called commercialized hip hop of today?

This is a book I will definitely have to reread to try and grapple with its nuances. Until then I will continue to develop my understanding of Jazz and the Blues by LISTENING to it!

Lenny Kravitz

Last night I was able to cross something off my bucket list:

See Older Twin Brother in Concert

I got a glimpse of life back in the late 60s early 70s, when Rock Stars roamed the earth. These mystical creatures I only heard about and saw on youtube videos. The highest echelon of cool, a cool you either had or you didn’t. Commanders of the stage, and people we fascinated over in our day to day lives. Oh what it would be like to be a Rock Star, to be without a care in the world.  I met a real life breathing Rock Star.

I need to invest in a camera!

Lenny Kravitz’s home coming.

I have been to hip hop, jazz, R&B, and pop-rock concerts, and they all have their own stage presence. Rock is no different. The way Lenny slung himself across the stage exuded Rock Star swag, and I’m not using the word lightly. For the two hours he was onstage, the man had an untouchable aura around him. I stood on the floor in awe!

Looking at the crowed from last night, Lenny should have named his latest album, “White, with a Fairy Dust Sprinkle of Black, in America” The largest concentration of black people were the people on stage. I swear the average age was about 42, because of outliers such as myself, median..I’d say 48. Clearly I was a double minority, but BOY did I enjoy myself.

The show opened with none other than R&B extraordinaire, Raphael Saadiq.  Quick question…Does this man age?

Back to the music

You could tell that most of the crowd was there to see Lenny Kravitz, and I BET if I held a poll 89.76% of the attendees would shamefully NOT know who Raphael Saadiq was. The room was slow to fill, but as more people waddled in, the more animated Raphael got.

I think that my reading of Blue’s People by LeRoi Jones, facilitated my transportation back to the 50s era during Raphael’s set. He twisted and jigged all across the stage, and had people doing the soul clap all over the place. He strummed a very metallic blue electric guitar, playing songs off his critically acclaimed “Stone Rollin” and “The Way I see it”.  He even got the crowed dancing to the Lucy Pearl hit “Dance Tonight”.When he went into his Blues set, it was game, set, match!

Raphael and his bassist went into a very elaborate play off. It was a very intimate feeling. You could have honestly placed them outside someone’s shack in the Mississippi bayou, surrounded by food, and familiar faces at one of those all night long jives. I am a Raphael Saadiq believer!

After a half hour intermission, and stage clean up, my older twin brother hit the stage, looking ever so much like the Rock god that he is. Last night I understood why Lenny always wears sunglasses, his stage light game is no joke.

From flood lights, beams, and strobe lights, I was blinded!

This was NOT Jesus's homecoming, it's Lenny's lights!

 

Lenny belongs on a stage. People are not lying when they say he has elaborate stage performances. Top Notch!
He played almost all his hits from across the decades, began with a few songs off his latest album, and ended the night where it all began, with “Let Love Rule”. The crowed went BALLISTIC when he sang “American Woman” and “Fly Away” and swayed when he went into “Flowers for Zoë” He mixed the ballads with the funk, rock with the groove, and through it all exuded the sexiness that he is. There is NO denying how freaking attractive Lenny Kravitz is, and onstage he radiates with ease.

He even had old women swooning. Highlight of my night (and envious moment too) a 60+ year old woman dressed in skin tight clothes and furry boots, found her way on stage and started dancing in the corner. Lenny made his way over there and just grooved with this woman. He engulfed her in his arms and just swayed. At the end she opened up her arms looked up to the heavens and  free fell into the crowed and the security guards took her away. I was FINISHED!

At the end of the night I was DETERMINED to see my Older Twin Brother close up. So I went to the venues back door and waited about 30 minutes, and it was WORTH IT!

I was unable to take a picture, but he was signing autographs. I only had my printed ticket and my passport, and when you are told give me your passport, you listen, and the result is:

Ironically signed below my Bahama's stamp (where his mom is from, and where he has built a recording studio)

Now I dont know if I will be able to return to Lesotho (or travel anywhere for that matter)

Thankfully this passport is about to run out of pages soon

Awkward.

Damn you MTV,

Here I believed my Awkwardness was alluring and cool. Obviously not the case.

Tonight I went to a book reading by Touré for his new work Who’s Afraid of Post-Blackness. I’ve been fascinated by him since I watched America VS Hip Hop on BET, and the summer of 2008, I read Never Drank The Kool-Aid. I think I look up  to him, something I just realized by writing this post. As I try to figure out to connect my varying interests, Touré seems to have figured things out.

When I tried to explain to my work colleagues who Touré was and what he writes about, I just spat out a long list that left them more confused than before. One colleague asked me what his position was on pop culture, and I don’t think she liked that I said it differed depending on any given topic.

So where does my awkwardness fit in? Well, with a book reading comes a book signing. My mind had a long list of things to say, possible conversation starters while he signed my book. In line my conversation with a friend was flowing freely, then, I got to the table and it seemed like someone turned off the faucet.

Blank stare

Didn’t know what to say. I got my book signed did the normal. Hello, name is, pathetic small talk, thank you, smile.

I honestly imagined my first encounter with Touré a little differently. In my head I was about to turn into this charismatic, witty being….dreams….

Reality was not as exciting, actually not exciting at all.

I’ve come to the public announcement realization, that I am just an awkward person, and I should embrace it for all it is worth.

Pot of gold for this story…. I got my book signed

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Maybe in my next life, or the next time I meet Touré, I’d have developed some charm!

Tunesday – M83: we Own The Sky

No grand story for this song, I just like it

and…. SKINS IS BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What Happened to Will.I.Am?

Help me get it.

I was listening to Timeless by Sergio Mendes, a WONDERFUL album, and didn’t understand where the Will.I.Am behind this FANTASTIC collection went?

Request Line Ft. Macy Gray was my introduction to The Black Eyed Peas. Then they became a permanent feature after Where is the Love.  Loved Monkey Business, then things went in another direction for the group.

What I dont get is this. I don’t think Will.I.Am is a bad or mediocre producer.

How does Will.I.Am go from producing two wonderful remix/revamped albums (Timeless and 25th Anniversary Thriller)  to The E.N.D?

How do you go from this:

and this:

to This??

Maybe he should grow his dreads back….

Still Searching for the Black Fantastic

“I won’t stop until they say James Franco is the White Donald Glover” – Childish Gambino

The reason I write this post is, in light of the birth of Blue Ivy, and all the Illuminati conspiracies. A friend asked me to write about society’s negative perception of Black success.

I honestly feel I am in NO position to claim any authority on the issue, but that does not mean I don’t have an opinion.  I know that the color of my skin bares unruly stereotypes, and at times I fall victim and allow race to define me in ways that inhibit my potential.

Steve Biko was not lying when he said “The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor, is the mind of the oppressed” Racial mind games continue to manifest unashamedly.

Where?

Did you realize how Obama was very Black until he beat Hillary in the ’08 Presidential elections? Then conversation shifted more to “He’s not really Black, his mom is White” Realize how Tiger Wood was portrayed as more Black as his scandal escalated?

Lindsay Lohan can’t seem to stay in jail; TI can’t seem to stay out.  How about Angelina Jolie, adopts 3 kids from all over the world, she catapults into this glorious saint. Kat Williams adopts 6 kids and???

Am I taking it too far? Alright let’s talk simple terms

Do you know how many times I have heard “ You speak English so well, where did you learn to speak English.”  Then I awkwardly have to explain in America, and have to back that up by explaining only because I lived here on and off, since I was 3 months old, how they speak English where I am from, and that my friends back home speak the language better than I.

Or, whenever I’m the token, getting looks whenever a hip hop song comes on and somehow expected to know all the lyrics, and yet I’m still expected to know all the lyrics to Lady Gaga too. My personal favorite: Being told I was very articulate then,  2 minutes later asked if I know how to speak Ghetto… WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?

Let’s be honest, what do you REALLY think of me? Why am I made to feel I am the exception, when in fact I’m as much the bloody rule as you are?

The first time I listened to Watch The Throne, I was sitting on a train heading to my god forsaken job. I was miserable, but something about hearing Murder to Excellence followed by Made in America struck a chord. I was inspired. As naïve as that may sound, it’s true. Here are these two black men talking about how they just play with their gad damn millions. As conceited and insensitive as that may seem, it was equally powerful and empowering.

Who would have thought that Hip Hop that came from one of the more destitute places in America, a “low brow” culture, would produce some of the more affluent people of the world? Hearing about Jay-Z and Kanye West’s financial success, in all its opulence, I went back to one of their other songs on the CD, and asked myself, Who Gon Stop Me?

In recent years, we have become comfortable with Black success in a limited spectrum, specifically in sports and entertainment, and even that has its limitations. Everyone else is an exception. Will Smith, Obama, Oprah, Patrice Motsepe, Mandela, all so called exceptions, and even they had to fight their battles to reach acceptance.

The elephant in the world’s room is we do not envision Black success, and we are a bit weary of black empowerment. With that I extend it to all melanin advantaged groups.

To quote Donald Glover again he said “white kids get to wear whatever hat they want, when it comes to black kids one size fits all” We expect to see, and normalize white doctors, lawyers, teachers, authors, intellectuals, CEOs, founders of, innovators; but when a person of color reaches the same pinnacle, they are ambitious, celebrated, made to feel like the exception. Why? I don’t know. How do we remedy this? I. don’t. know.

I know this post is over simplifying a very complex issue. In no means am I trying to hint that I have the insight or answers to what has become systemic racism. I only know what I see and hear, and unfortunately have a difficult time using my words to express what I feel.

I will leave you with this:

The day we stop saying you are x for a insert-racial-description-of-your-choice; we stop SAYING I don’t see color; and we differentiate race from a defining to a descriptive word, I’ll be a bit more embracive of a so called post racial society.

RIP Etta James

Today’s  musicians can hide behind their looks, voice enhancers, and crazy instrumentals. Etta James just brought the voice. When you can hear the static through the mic, and your voice still sounds mellifluous… Shut the front door, game over.

No denying the pure raw talent of Etta James.The original musical bad girl, a force to be reckoned with. Many imitated, but NO-ONE sounds like or better than her.

No record execs creating a team of 20 people to crank out a hit, She was her music. You felt the pain, longing, and love in every note she sang.

Thank God she gave us her music, because she will forever live through song.

RIP Etta James

Southernhighschoolisticadillacmuzic

2005 was a big year.

I was entering my record 5th year at Saint Micheal’s School in Bloemfontein, South Africa. The LONGEST I had(have)  ever spent at one school. I was a squash player, and after my rankings at the regional and State open tournaments, this was the year I would make it to the State travelling team. Things were looking up.

Then I found out that I was accepted to Saint Andrew’s. No not the boys school a block away, or the girls school in Jo’burg. I was going a little further….Sewanee, Tennessee.

I was nervous about the change, but really excited about the possibilities. Here I was 17 years old, abandoning all I knew  for the pursuit of ???.

I went from a squash player to a soccer player

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
Another thing I had to readjust to…MUSIC. Country music for breakfast, Bluegrass as a snack, Country music for lunch, and Southern Hip Hop for Dinner.

I mean I was exposed to Southern hip hop prior to moving to TN. I listened to some Outkast here and there, Ludacris (Especially after he shot “Pimpin All Over the World” in South Africa) and Lil Jon’s Get Low. At the time they sounded the same as my then hip hop musical crush Ja Rule (another story, different day, maybe never) from New York, and Snoop from the West Coast.

Then I stepped foot in TN.

The song that will ALWAYS tie me to my first 3 days in TN is Juvenile’s Slow Motion. That was the song I learnt about grinding. Nothing says Welcome to America like grinding, especially in front of your future teachers and coaches*buries head*

Why am I thinking of all this?

Well I recently listened to this:

Sir Lucious Left Foot: The Son of Chico Dusty (2010)
Big Boi
Favorite Track(s): Follow Us, Tangerine, Be Still, Fo Yo Sorrows

I liked Outkast growing up but didn’t pay them that much attention. Loved Ms. Jackson, and when Speakerboxx/Love Below came out I catapulted to an Andre 3000 fan, his quirkiness, flow, and word play is superb.

I admit, Big Boi, liked him, didn’t think much else.

He shut me up with  Sir Lucious Left Foot.

Reminded me that Outkast was a duo, both MCs equally amazing. T.I calls himself the King of the South, Luda some variation of the sort. Big Boi IS Southern Hip Hop.

It’s pretty useless that I don’t have the knowledge, and even worse the words, to describe Southern Hip Hop. I can wikipedia it, if they have stopped protesting, but I know you can read, so no use in copying and pasting from wiki.

All I know is this. East Coast rap is supposedly all gritty, West Coast Laid Back, Southern, bouncier.

You want to test my hypothesis? Go to any club, the second Waka Flocka comes on what do people do?

Back to Big Boi

His second debut solo album contains all the elements of a Southern Hip Hop. synthesizers, drums and bass, and the southern drawl that makes words flow into musical counts so effortlessly. Speaking of flow, Big Boi’s flow and content is so versatile on the CD. How does he go from Follow Us to Shutterbug to General Paton? Gad Dang..

It’s a fun, but not “cute” album. I don’t feel grimy listening to it but he Big Boi goes hard, especially in General Paton. He’s lyrics contain the usual suspects, but no I’m swag this, hottest that, and he even reminds us that New Orleans is still an issue.  This doesn’t sound like a CD 2 years in the making in that it doesn’t sound disconnected. I don’t get the feeling that he was chasing a #1 billboard let me make this a mass appeal record. He delivered what he’s great at, and proved he is as amazing with Andre 3k as he is as a solo artist.

Salute

Tunesday – Happy Birthday Muhammad Ali

In my attempt to find my favorite Cassius song in honor of Ntate Muhammad Ali, I stumbled upon this…

I pick Cassius to honor Cassius Clay AKA Mr Sting like a butterfly, and end up with a cassius song sampled by Jay-z and Kanye West on WTT (don’t know why I didn’t pick up on this) . And for some distorted reason this seems pretty epic in my head.

So I hope you enjoy some Cassius, which may (or may not) been introduced to you by way of the WTT.

Life On The Periphery

Sometime in the mid to late 80s Mama and Daddy Phoofs thought it would be a good idea to conceive child in China. 3 months after said child was born, the Phoofs migrated to the land of milk and honey just outside the city they called the Big Apple.  Child lived in a predominantly white neighborhood, and attended school were she learnt to play with a Dreidel, and ate Matzah. At the age of 6, Child’s world changed drastically.

The Phoofs moved back to the patria, and Child was thrust into a world of identity.

Imagine encountering a black Mosotho (excuse my redundancy) who was born in China, sounded like a Yankee, and spoke NO Sesotho??? Can’t Picture it??? … Let me help you:

To say I had a hard time explaining myself, is quiet the understatement. How do I justify that I am a “real” Mosotho when I’m in the Sesotho class for foreigners; and how can I claim to be Non-Mosotho when all my legal paperwork says otherwise?

You Don’t

Instead, you just live your life “On the periphery”

When I came to terms with living “On the periphery” I got a tattoo…. Frank McCourt wrote 3 books

Frank McCourt
Teacher Man (2005)

When my sister first gave me Frank McCourt’s Angela’s Ashes I never thought one man’s life could be so comically depressing.  In a laugh at my pain kind of way. No he did not have THE hardest life, but it was sad nonetheless. Again I am drawn to a quote I read a while back, “Life is not a misery contest” a la Gertrude Stein, sad is sad is sad.

After finishing Angela’s Ashes I was left hopefully about the turn of Dear Franky’s life, then I read ‘Tis and misery returned.  Again, at the end of ‘Tis I thought this was it, Dear Franky would find happiness and grow in confidence.

Ahhwe (Sesotho accent)  Teacher Man!

I must admit things do get better for Dear Franky, but poor man is still lost in this place called life. Not quiet fitting in. Still lacks the charisma and confidence stolen by Malachy in Angela’s Ashes, and still has the Irish accent that plagued him in ‘Tis. Only difference, now he is confronted by people half his age, going through similar struggles, looking at him for answers… ouch.

The last installment of Dear Franky’s written life was touch and go. I didn’t know if he was going to make it, if he was going to overcome his painfully pitiful life. When I saw I only had 60 or so pages till the end, I thought there was no happy ending (I’m too Hollywood). Alas there was no big happy ever after, but just like Angela’s Ashes and ‘Tis with 2 words, I was left hopeful at the possibilities.

I will admit that this is my least favorite of his memoirs only because it’s not as introspective as the previous two. It took me a while to figure out I wasn’t really reading about Frank.  This memoir is more about his students and overall classroom experiences.Frank McCourt is a guest in his own book, facilitating the story through the stories of his students.  You get a glimpse into Frank’s life through their lives and how they maneuver through his class.

Frank still doesn’t seem to get this life thing right as a teacher. He doesn’t get his first job because the person who “hired” him dies the week before he starts; he gets fired by the same principle twice at two different schools; his third return to Ireland is as unceremonious as the previous two (plus he fails to get his PhD), and still no luck with women, except this time Maggie lives!

Frank McCourt’s life is the classic underdog story. For people who live on the periphery: you hoot, holler and scream for the underdog. Except, we only really like underdog’s when they win, and Frank barely makes the mark. He is the role model you don’t want to be like, glad he told his story so you can try your hardest to avoid his footsteps.

Ironically I write this as he’s received the Pulitzer Prize for his memoirs, and I remain on the periphery, finding worth commenting on his life on this blog post.  At the end of the day, We Try