ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY DOUBLE J, APRIL 2019
When it comes to the artistry of M.I.A., politics and music have never not been intertwined.
Of course, popular music has often held a mirror up to the political and social climate of its time, but over the course of five studio albums, Mathangi Arulpragasam’s voice has been a critical one, a fiery one.
A voice that has not wavered in its strength since 2005’s Arular, and one that has continued to buck the expectations of major labels as a marketable artist in a pop realm.
Pull Up The Poor
M.I.A.’s debut album Arular, laid the groundwork early. The album’s title – the political code used by her father during involvement with Tamil militant groups – set an early theme.
As with the British punk wave of the 1970s, the music M.I.A. produced reflected observations of a community the spotlight often swung away from. London’s cultural melting pot, built on stories of refuge and rebuilding, was given its stage.
Couple this with lyrical narratives surrounding murder, political warfare, the refugee experience and a struggle for independence, and M.I.A.’s debut was one that painted her early as a pop provocateur, an inciter of mischief.
Little did the naysayers realise, M.I.A was only getting started.
Flight Of The Paper Planes
A move to incorporate a more global scope in her music came soon after the success of Arular, with M.I.A.’s second record Kala in 2007.
Named after her mother and inspired both by her struggles and M.I.A.’s own issues in accessing a United States work visa, Kala was made during travels through India, Japan, Trinidad and Tobago, Jamaica, Liberia, and even Australia.
The album stands as one of M.I.A’s most important, body of work speaking. Kala brought M.I.A her first Grammy nomination for ‘Paper Planes’ (Record of the Year), while collaborations with the likes of Timbaland, Switch and Diplo on production elevated Kala to further esteem and acclaim outside the UK.
The record expanded on themes set on Arular, with the focus pointing inward on the refugee experience, often in a hostile environment. In sing-song, playground rhyming cadence, M.I.A’s satirical tone also takes flight beautifully on Kala, as she continued to expose the flaws of a global system and, in doing so, also exposed the flaws of a music industry that ironically, the album was skyrocketing her upward within.
The release of ‘Paper Planes’ marked a cataclysmic change in pace for M.I.A on a global scale. A satirical look at the American perception of immigrants and foreigners, particularly post-9/11, ‘Paper Planes’ courted criticism and acclaim in droves.
Her supposed support of the Tamil Tigers, through the success of ‘Paper Planes’, led to M.I.A’s work being banned on radio and television throughout Sri Lanka.
“I can’t justify my success otherwise.” she told The Daily Beast in 2009.
“I can’t justify getting nominated for an Oscar or a Grammy, that to me wouldn’t mean anything if I don’t actually get to speak about this.”
Though ‘Paper Planes’ wasn’t the first time M.I.A provided pointed political commentary through music, the song provided her with her biggest stage at the time.
Nine months pregnant, she performed alongside Jay-Z, T.I., Lil Wayne and Kanye West at the 2009 Grammys - a performance that further solidified her status as a bona-fide hustler, making her name.
Born Free
In 2010, she released MAYA, a record that saw information politics and the digital age act as a prominent feature for M.I.A.’s creative output.
From the glitchy, industrial elements of the Sleigh Bells-sampled ‘MEDS AND FEDS’, through to the album’s artwork, the advance of the internet – and because of it, a slew of misconception and alternative truths – played a central role in M.I.A’s third release.
Perhaps more sonically aggressive than its predecessors, MAYA’s messaging was maturing and becoming more pointed.
The release of the short film accompanying ‘BORN FREE’ was a slice of guerilla-style action; conceptualised and filmed without the knowledge of M.I.A.’s record label, the video depicted a genocide against redheads. Violent and graphic, the video highlighted the absurdity of genocide itself and in doing so, showed graphic violence against people who did not fit the usual narrative.
‘I’ll throw this in ya face when I see ya, I got somethin’ to say,’ M.I.A taunts on the track. The brashness in her delivery indicated a continued unflinching, unwavering promise that violence on this scale was indeed very real.
If we felt confronted by the music video, we weren’t ready to digest the realities at the core of its inception.
Live Fast, Die Young
The release of Matangi in 2013 and M.I.A’s most recent – and apparently final – album AIM in 2016 displays the empowerment and drive of M.I.A’s artistry in different ways.
The former, which might be considered the least abrasive of M.I.A.’s discography, nevertheless remains unrelenting.
The music is almost exhausting to listen to, which may have been the point. Experimenting heavily with hip hop and bhangra, Matangi plunges itself into ideas of Eastern spiritualism more than it does political warfare and less-travelled edgy terrain.
Alleged input from WikiLeaks founder Julian Assange ties the album to the underground, guerilla approach of previous material, yet M.I.A. provides the listener with some of her most forward-thinking ideas yet.
‘If you only live once, why do we keep doing the same shit?’ she muses at the end of ‘Y.A.L.A’. ‘Back home where I come from, we keep being born again and again’.
Themes of karma, rejuvenation and female strength resound, while the music takes on a slicker tone.
Five albums in and it could be said that music listeners and the industry still don’t have the ultimate vision of Mathangi Arulpragasam that the artist is willing to deliver.
We see this urgency in full flight on AIM opener ‘Borders’, a look at the world’s current refugee crisis.
“The world I talked about ten years ago is still the same,” M.I.A. posted on Twitter. It comes as a sombre realisation; are things as bad as they ever were or have we, as a public, simply had our eyes opened more?
Urgency, charisma and self-awareness have always been at the core of M.I.A.’s work.
‘What haters say about me don’t worry me,’ she spits on AIM’s ‘Finally’. ‘I keep it moving forward to what’s ahead of me.’
It’s a thread of confidence that has buoyed M.I.A’s work as much as each banging bhangra beat or electronic lash. From ‘Paper Planes’ to ‘Born Free’, M.I.A. refuses to be quietened.
Whether AIM is the final M.I.A. album remains to be seen. If it is, the artist has gone out with flair. She might not necessarily be shaking the industry down with vivid imagery backed by fist-pumping beats, but she’s cleverly interwoven a global narrative with music that has traversed genre and cultural boundary.
As a music fan and a fan of strong, empowered artists in an industry of steadfast gatekeepers, I love this.