Feature: A Solange Knowles experience is like no other

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED: TIME OUT SYDNEY, JANUARY 2020
IMAGE: Daniel Boud

At the final performance in Sydney Opera House's concert hall before it closes for years’ worth of renovations, one woman’s vision proved a fitting way to herald new beginnings for the iconic venue.

Solange Knowles is a different woman to the one audiences first saw on Sydney's most famous stage in 2018.

Transition and transformation of the spiritual and the emotional senses have played integral parts in the American artist’s life in the nearly two years that have passed between visits, the result of which Sydney audiences witnessed during this most recent residency at the Sydney Opera House.

I was lucky enough to have seen Solange’s debut at this venue back in 2018. Touring her highly theatrical production of A Seat at the Table, the energy conjured and harnessed throughout that performance was tangible. On Friday night, having managed to fluke front row tickets, I found myself within the immediate influence of one of contemporary music’s most intriguing artists. And while the vibrancy of her familiar energy remained, this latest show somehow felt like I was discovering Solange’s powers for the first time, all over again.

Solange Knowles, the artist that stood before us now, was a woman who was fearlessly in charge of an artistry in flux. Because of it, she is creating some of her best and most impactful work to date.

Not unlike A Seat at the Table, Witness! - the name of this new production - is more a performance art piece than straight-to-the-tee concert. Everything, from her dancers' costuming, to her band’s choreography and the newly composed suite ‘Bridges’, pointed towards Solange’s creative process shattering, then rebuilding with precision.

The music taken from A Seat At The Table and the more recent When I Get Home record offered the audience a chance to experience her material through a different lens. Heritage and strength in culture has always remained a constant within Solange’s repertoire. Nods to her Texan upbringing could be found in the details: the cowboy hats and boots worn by her dancers; the lassoing of her microphone. Her hip hop roots in the Dirty South also peeked through – well-placed twerks and slow grinds matched up perfectly with the more club-ready portions of her material.

Tinkering with arrangements gave the show a more intimate vibe. ‘Way To The Show’ became sexier with the lo-fi R&B beats given more prominence. ‘F.U.B.U’ and ‘Don’t Touch My Hair’ reminded the audience that her story was also shared with many women of colour in attendance. ‘Stay Flo’ and ‘Binz’ felt like indulgent daydreams, realised with a strong brass and bass line as their backbone.

All the strength that was demonstrated in her 2018 shows was both present and rejuvenated. Yet, in Solange’s vocals, a touching vulnerability and a genuine sense of adoration for the nuances of her craft shone through. While the uncertainty of what our collective future holds was a prominent sentiment Solange shared with the audience during the show, her delivery of the production never felt unsure. The carefree grin that broke out across her face numerous times throughout the 90-minute performance was infectious. Each time she connected with the audience in the in-the-round setting further enhanced the intimate vibe of the show – no easy task in a room as large as the Opera House's concert hall.

Witness! - a production so rooted in personal strength, femininity and black excellence - staged at a venue so synonymous with the white middle and upper classes, is just the type of show the Sydney Opera House needs to further bring it into a new decade. A catalyst for provocative thought and conversation, Solange is not just a champion for individualism in contemporary R&B. She is a leader.

Though she had been writing and performing since childhood, 2018 was a year when Solange seemed to step into a new spotlight of her own. But seeing her in 2020 was a whole new experience; her vision as a creative has entered a new era, one marked by confidence in identity and control over one’s own narrative. Just as it should be.

Interview: The 1975

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED: BEAT MAGAZINE, JANUARY 2020

The 1975 aren’t in the business of making records to be digested and thrown away with ease. 

Come April 2020, their new album - Notes On A Conditional Form - will be released. An album that has already spawned three distinctive tracks (‘People’, ‘Frail State of Mind’ and the Greta Thunberg-featuring ‘The 1975’), Notes is not simply Album Number Four for the British group. It’s a sign of the band’s continuous strive for completing a chapter of their career that is more flourished and intriguing than what came before.

“It’s not an environmental record,” Matty Healy is quick to assert of The 1975’s next venture.

“I’ve led with the Greta song into ‘People’, so now a lot of people are like, “Oh, it’s the environmental record”, but it’s not. A Brief Enquiry… had the title of Into Online Relationships [and] that set the tone. It’s a record about being a person: fear, love, the human experience. There’s a cloak of that idea and this [album] has the same thing. The main thing I’m scared of on this record is bigger environmental concerns, but it’s not an environmental record.”

When it comes to The 1975’s presence in a music culture far different from the one they entered in 2002, Healy is open about how they’ve weathered a cultural storm of streaming and chart-data led success.

“The artists whose single streams are in the billions, people don’t buy their albums, necessarily.” he says. Using pop music as an example, Healy describes his perception of the singles vs albums debate. 

“Ellie Goulding [for example],” he says. “Not slagging her off, just using her pop style; people will listen to her music at the gym and they will listen to it on playlists. They’ll put the ‘Pop’ playlist on and it will get out there. When it comes to her putting out a record, which is someone saying, “Will you invest in my lifestyle?” or, “Do you want to invest in me, as an idea?”...I have a lot of “Yes, I want to invest in you as an idea,” and less, “I’ll pop this on when I’m doing whatever. We don’t have a [really] transient audience like that.”

“I’ve said this before, but the Drakes of the world, they’re professionals at keeping people’s attention for three minutes.” Healy adds. 

“They can do that again and again. I’m not that good at that. A single will happen accidentally throughout the myriad of writing songs. The way that we express ourselves is like longform. I can do it and I do it occasionally, I’d love it if we can make it work where I get a big idea down in three minutes. We’ve always been an albums band.”

Reflecting on almost two decades of The 1975, Healy is frank about how he has matured as a musician and what looking down the barrel of a new decade is like for him. In short: it’s exciting.

“When I was a teenager, culture and everything said, “To be an alternative artist, you get a deal with a small indie and that’s how you do it.”” he explains. 

“By the time I’d put out my first record, I was already...I didn’t have people from record labels [calling], I didn’t have any of that, there was already a freedom to it. I suppose I am in a privileged position, but the most privileged thing is that I created that privileged position. I can kind of be proud of it.” 

“We’ve proven that, with luck and with the zeitgeist, and with it being the right time, you can do what you want. The coolest thing about The 1975 is that this past 10 years has been the dissolvement of genre, especially with us. I see artists like Billie Eilish, these artists who are fearless now. I love that. We’ve definitely been part of that new sense of freedom with young kids.”

The first time I interviewed Healy, we were both in our early 20’s. The band’s profile was growing rapidly off the back of their debut EP. The second time we crossed paths, The 1975 was well and truly settled into their role as a breath of fresh air coming out of the UK indie scene, transitioning with ease into mainstream pop success. 

“The culture has changed quite a lot.” he says.

“A lot of people who come from indie or punk grow in their sense of wanting to do something, but they don’t actually have the ability to do it. I think because of our ability as producers and musicians, we can actually challenge ourselves and do things that are a bit more viscerally powerful.” 

Now both eyeing up our next decade in an industry that has changed so significantly for each of us, on stage and behind the scenes, Healy is reflective on his personal approach to the craft and consuming of music as a fan. 

“The whole thing is about not being bored.” he laughs. “It’s not about striving to be bold, it’s about avoiding being bored. If you’ve been in a band with your best friends for 17 years, doing anything for too long is boring. Making one type of music is boring. That’s been really reflective of the way the culture has been. I think that we’ve been constantly balancing back and forward between people just getting that every time we make a record.”

“I’ve had to learn that that sense of freedom I get when something excites me, just chase that. Chase it, that’s the only thing I can really do.”

Feature: Dr. Dre's 2001 - a hip-hop classic that could not be made today

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED: DOUBLE J, SEPTEMBER 2019

A classic record with some questionable content.

When we think of Dr. Dre, we think of an era of hip hop rooted in decadence, delivered by artists who had lived the experiences that formed the basis of their material.

These were the stories of hustlers, young men who had come up from the struggle. Legends in the making who were thriving in a genre that provided an avenue out of the violence and impoverishment of their upbringing. A future that would be paved with money and fame in excess, and egos to match.

The release of Dre's debut LP The Chronic in 1992 firmly established him as a hip hop game changer.

From the shadows of his group N.W.A’s mammoth success emerged a double threat. Dre’s production technique and ear for g-funk and gangsta rap progressions, coupled with his staunch flow, turned heads and provided a huge breakthrough for the Death Row Records label Dre founded with Suge Knight and The D.O.C..

Seven years later, in anticipation of the new millennium, Dr. Dre delivered his second album, 2001.

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A record laden with expectation and anticipation, the album followed 1996’s Dr. Dre Presents The Aftermath - a compilation album that sold well, but failed to capture the same attention and respect as The Chronic.

Where 2001 differs is in its compositional weight, the calibre of guests representing the thriving culture of the time, and the reflection of Dre’s evolution as a rapper and the West Coast sound in general.

"I just basically do hardcore hip hop and try to add a touch of dark comedy here and there," Dr. Dre told the Irish Times in 2000.

"A lot of the times the media just takes this and tries to make it into something else when it’s all entertainment first."

It makes sense. 2001 was originally constructed as if it were a film.

Purely cinematic in its presentation, an album like 2001 set a precedent for this type of hip hop record that an artist like Kendrick Lamar would follow in producing seminal works of their own (Good Kid, m.A.A.d City).

The skits linking the 17 album tracks continue the narrative, centred on West Coast hip hop’s thematic triumvirate: weed, sex and violence.

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Comedian Eddie Griffin is a noted voice on 'Ed-Ucation', possibly the album’s lowest point: a one-and-a-half-minute rant about side-chicks who become pregnant on purpose.

Two tracks later, we hear orgasms and the voice of male porn star Jake Steed on 'Pause for a Porno', before the interlude breaks into 'Housewife'.

The cringe factor brought on Dre's more graphic lyrics are relegated to the lesser known songs on the album. Intentional or not, the kind of subject matter acclaimed rappers would never be able to get away with today, is ultimately shadowed by the singles: banger after banger that would drop during the album’s cycle of release.

What comes out on top is a strong and confident attitude that permeates through the entire piece.

The record is less concerned with hyping up a lifestyle and serves more as a massive 'fuck you' to anyone who questioned how Dr. Dre would stand solo, sans-N.W.A and without Death Row and Suge Knight behind him.

Establishing himself as one of the strongest players in the culture, Dr. Dre demonstrated his reach in employing an all-star list of ghostwriters (The D.O.C., Royce da 5’9”, Jay-Z), musicians (Mike Elizondo, Scott Storch, Jason Hann) and vocalists to pull his vision together.

We’re talking Xzibit, Nate Dogg, Kurupt and Snoop Dogg.

Mary J. Blige, MC Ren, Hittman.

Eminem, fresh off the back of the Dr. Dre-produced debut, The Slim Shady LP.

The young Marshall Mathers has one of the best verses and highlight moments on the record, spitting psychopathic greatness on 'Forgot About Dre'.

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A cultural moment as well as an album touchstone, 'Forgot About Dre' showed Dre at his bitter best, while Eminem’s vibe is a perfect snapshot of America’s Most Disturbed at his most venomous.

The album has spawned some of the most popular tracks of the decade, namely 'Still D.R.E' and 'The Next Episode', the latter of which has become almost a rite of passage to rap along to for anyone beginning the partying chapter of their young adulthood.

'Still D.R.E', the first single from 2001, is assertive and quick to light a fire beneath those who assumed Dre was down and out of the game following the release of ...The Aftermath.

'I stay close to the heat,' he raps. 'And even when I was close to defeat, I rose to my feet'.

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In the same vein, ‘The Next Episode’ is possibly the pinnacle of West Coast rap, delivered in its most pure form.

The track wouldn’t be what it is without Snoop Dogg’s silky-smooth cadence, Dre’s braggadocious entry and statement of intent as a King of Cali ('Compton, Long Beach, Inglewoood') and of course, Nate Dogg’s marijuana-loving outro.

Elsewhere on 2001, a listener can find some underrated cuts that still stand strong on their own now, 20 years later.

'Bang Bang' is an example of Dr. Dre’s intelligence and knack for clever lyrics, 'Let’s Get High' sees Ms. Roq shine, while 'The Message' changes the album’s speed entirely.

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Closing the album, the Mary J. Blige and Rell collaboration 'The Message' is an ode to Dr. Dre’s late brother Tyree and a song that deserved much more attention than it received.

At 22 tracks total, 2001 was perhaps embraced gluttonously when it was first unleashed. Nobody could have predicted Dr. Dre’s entrepreneurial hustles becoming such a main (and lucrative) focus over the next decade. He released another studio record (Compton) in 2015, yet the fumes of hope surrounding the almost mythical Detox album remain.

As we look to the beginning of another decade, a deep dive on an album like 2001 poses the question:

Could this sort of record be made and revered today?

Ask most hip-hop fans and they’d probably tell you no.

While the culture does still have pockets of music rooted in the same old tropes (read: strippers, liquor, misogyny), hip hop today has never been so multi-faceted. Yet, in a lot of ways, the influence of Dr. Dre has been there throughout.

As the West Coast hip hop sound became more defined – and popular – through the latter half of the 1990s, largely thanks to the emergence of Tupac Shakur and Snoop Dogg, the Dr. Dre sound remained present and continued to develop.

An innovator and sonic perfectionist, the Compton original would go on to pave the way for a whole new generation of hip hop artists valuing a fine-tuned ear for production and composition as much as they do their rhymes.

Interview: Sampa The Great

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED: THE BIG ISSUE, SEPTEMBER 2019

Sampa The Great. A name that already indicates confidence and flair. 

For the Zambia-born, Botswana-raised emcee, poet and songwriter, her journey towards fulfilment and greatness has been an ongoing one. Calling Australia home since 2014, Sampa’s presence on the Australian music scene began with the release of The Great Mixtape in 2015; an introduction of a fresh and exciting voice out of Sydney that would change the hip-hop landscape in Australia indomitably.

Since relocating to Melbourne, Sampa has become a significant voice to be reckoned with in the thriving musical community that fuses hip-hop, funk, jazz and soul with ease. Her acclaimed mixtape, Birds and The Bee9, experimented sonically, while thematically, Sampa Tembo’s exploration of what, creatively, formed her own identity was laid bare on record.

As a live performer, Sampa The Great has become a favourite on the Australian scene while international love has also come her way. Supporting the likes of Lauryn Hill and Kendrick Lamar, while also growing her own headline presence impressively, Sampa’s talent has long been seen as a powder-keg ready to detonate. 

She definitely feels the love, too. “I can’t wait for the touring that’s about to come because we’re playing all the songs, most of the songs on the album are going to be played live. Everyone can feel it, they can feel the difference. They can feel the growth. It’s something else. The whole band can feel it as well.”

With a massive run of Australian touring on the near horizon, including a stop at this year’s Lost Lands Festival, Sampa The Great is currently preparing to introduce fans and newcomers alike to the sounds of her new album, The Return. If the Australian Music Prize-winning Birds and The Bee9 was an introduction, The Return is a powerful, confident statement of intent.  

“We were breaking down in the sessions,” Sampa remembers. “On that level, already I was like, ‘This is way different’. Not hella different to the other sessions, especially BB9, where you’re super vulnerable, you’re talking about issues that affect us, but this one was really the naked truth. It is what it was. Now we’re not scared to say anything; this is where we are.”

Dropping the first hints of the return in singles ‘Final Form’ and ‘OMG’, Sampa The Great unleashed a beast of musicality that proved to be an exciting smack to wake listeners up. A rallying sense of strength permeated both singles as well as the music videos, filmed on Sampa’s latest trip back to Africa. Re-engaging with her homeland in Zambia, bringing her music home for the first time, was a daunting experience.

“We were all excited, obviously.” she remembers. “We were preparing the venue and I meet one of Zambia’s finest rappers - Chef 187 - and we’re just talking about how he used to spend the first half of his career wishing he was doing what I’m doing and I spent the first half of my career wishing I was doing what he’s doing. There was that realisation. I could with all my mind, wish that my career started somewhere else, but there are many people wishing the opposite.”

Imposter syndrome, an emotional and mental struggle many can encounter, is something Sampa is open about experiencing. Even now, as her star is rising in Australia and international attention is turning her way, that desire for that connection and platform back home is something that has remained, even in a small way.”

“It’s still a thing.” she says. “There’s always going to be a sense of imposter syndrome. I experienced a small, minor sense of displacement whereas you know, some of my friends can’t go home to South Sudan. That made me explore what is ‘home’ to me and all these different answers came out in this album, with the conclusion that home is also yourself. The body. Your soul has made a place in this body which is your home. How do we live with that, how do we deal with that without the culture that we’re from? How do we deal with this one, first of all?”

“As much as I still feel imposter syndrome, I am learning things and Australia has provided a lot of opportunities and avenues that I can bring home and help people back home with.”

Navigating themes of self-satisfaction, fully embracing one’s identity and exploring a connection to a culture one finds themself not living in day in, day out, The Return is equal parts love letter to Sampa’s heritage as it is a touchstone of the artist she is today - an artist stood at the doorstep of global influences, being welcomed in with open arms.

“With The Return, it’s no longer a question of finding myself and who I was,” she says. “It was like, ‘This is me. I’ll show you where me came from and I’ll show you where me is going. This is solid. This is who I am, guys. Anything after this is just growth.’ It’s more assured. It’s more assured of who I am. It’s the journey as a whole.”

Under Occupation: BIGSOUND 2019 Keynote

PHOTO: Jess Gleeson/BIGSOUND

This year, I was invited to be part of a BIGSOUND Keynote session that offered delegates an insight into different Indigenous perspectives in a global music industry. Along with Neil Morris, Ninakaye Taane-Tinorau and Chelsey June, I spoke about the experience of being a Pacific Islander and working in the Australian music industry. It was a full on session, but one I came away from with a lot of strong, positive feelings about.

Here’s hoping this sort of programming endures at an event like BIGSOUND, as I think it is important and crucial to have more voices represented. Thank you to Alethea Beetson and Tom Larkin for reaching out!

I’ve been asked by a few people who weren’t able to attend, to read what I spoke about, so I’ve posted my speech below (amended for context).

***

Today, we’re hearing four distinct perspectives and cultural viewpoints as they have applied to the music industry and for me, the story I’m here to tell is that of a Pasifika experience in Australia. It feels particularly right to be presenting this type of talk in Brisbane, where I believe there to be one of the highest populations of Polynesians living outside of New Zealand and the islands. Australia, for many of our older generations was seen as (and still is) a place of high prosperity and opportunity.

Like our indigenous brothers and sisters here, our Maori cousins and I would imagine, our Canadian friends also here, the Pacific has had its modern society and culture formed out of the ashes of colonisation. Each island has grown into the modern age differently, yet the effects of imposed Western religion and generational trauma can still be found across the Pacific region.

But, as with any inherently creative culture, stories of struggle and achievement have formed the genesis of some incredible art across the mediums – visual art, dance, music.

In preparing for today’s keynote, I have been revisiting conversations I’ve had with a number of fellow Pacific Islanders who are in the arts and based in Australia to gain inspiration but also to isolate any defining threads within their stories that tie our community as a whole together. While casual racism belied many of those stories, there was also a lacking of confidence that many of us had felt at one point or another, instilled as a result of an industry either overlooking us for work because of the colour of our skin or judging/deeming us experts in a particular field because of our ethnicity.

I know this is sounding like we could be going down a rabbit hole of negativity – I promise it’s not all bad – but it is important to note these things as I do believe that experiencing hardships stemming from cultural misconception and ignorance has built a tough skin for all of us and an added drive to succeed.

In 2016, I wrote a two-part feature on diversity within the Australian music scene. The idea behind it was simple: working in music here, you hear the terms ‘Aussie rock’, ‘Aussie hip-hop’ – ‘Australian Music’. I thought, ‘What does that actually mean?’. For a country that claims to be one of the most multicultural, we’ve certainly seen continual whitewashing of our music industry on a public front and in the media over the years, despite some of the country’s biggest, most respected and most exciting names all representing different ethnic communities.

So with this in mind, I started reaching out to artists with the overarching question: What does the face of Australian music look like? The answer was that it didn’t have one. Certainly not now. The responses I received were great and in having conversations with musicians from across African, Asian and Pasifika diasporas, I learned so much more about the parallels in experience we have all experienced forging a career and general creative existence here.

To be a Pacific Islander in Australia, it can feel that – when it comes to a scale of success and failure – we’re either as valuable as the length of time a career in the NRL or Wallabies lasts, or we’re only good enough to be the bouncer at the club in the Valley, or a disposable tradie on a worksite. We’ve seen the Australian Government’s most recent outlying of love for Pacific Nations who are in very real danger of having our islands sink due to climate change many either flatly refuse to acknowledge or take seriously.

Where the Deputy Prime Minister of this country can be so aloof and reason that we will ‘CONTINUE TO SURVIVE BECAUSE MANY OF THEIR WORKERS COME HERE AND PICK OUR FRUIT’.

in a nutshell, this is a perfect example of how it feels to have those ideas or doubts about the country you live in, validated. What Minister Michael McCormack got right was that we do have the ability to survive - go back through the documented history of the occupation and systematic oppression of the Pacific Islands, that is a recurring thread. We are a people built to adapt. For so many artists who call Australia home, but whose ancestry lies elsewhere - our heritage is not a selling point until we begin excelling in our field. Then we’re proudly claimed. Key word: Claimed. 

For myself, I count myself quite lucky to have had the career I have had so far. While I’m not ashamed to acknowledge the hard work I’ve done to get to a point where I can talk to you fine people about this sort of thing; I have been so honoured to work with people who I can see my own story - struggles and achievements - mirrored. 

The music industry in Australia is a hard graft for anyone to be in, I believe. There are less seats at the table thanks to geographic isolation and a smaller industry market. - imagine what it is like to be stuck at the kid’s end because of your perceived marketability, value and contribution to the sector. That’s what it can feel like to be a person of colour working here. 

What is promising though, and what I have loved about working with young POC artists, young Islander in particular – is that it’s becoming more and more evident that the tides are shifting. We’re seeing major movements of Pasifika representation in major media internationally (Moana, Taika Waititi’s Marvel successes, Fast & Furious: Hobbs & Shaw) and similarly, we’re seeing more and more artists from the Pasifika realm in Australia exceeding those old-fashioned expectations of what music people who look like us ‘should be’ playing or being marketed as.

There are the artists here who have long been paving the way and sharing their knowledge with a new generation. Just LOOK to this week’s program...

A main take away from this year’s BIGSOUND experience for me - and it’s been something I spoke with friends about last night - is the fact that when it comes to that question I was asking in 2016 of ‘WHAT DOES AUSTRALIAN MUSIC LOOK LIKE?’ - the answer is so vibrant and powerful.

Young people of colour are out here.

Young Pacific Islanders are out here doing their thing.

Finally, old heads are starting to turn and acknowledge them.

We have come from a long line of orators, navigators, warriors, leaders and creators. We’re used to the judgement and the struggle. However how our artists - and my three fellow keynotes will surely be able to attest to as well - move forward from that, harness that energy and create art that is beginning to form the new foundation of music coming out of this country is pretty bloody sick.

Feature: How TLC changed female representation in 90's R&B

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY DOUBLE J, JUNE 2019

A look at how the Atlanta girl group became figureheads for independent womanhood in one of R&B's most potent decades.

The 1990s saw the development of a strain of R&B that has endured in its appeal and popularity. In 2019, this style has begun to see a renaissance through a new generation of artists.

The development of TLC though, from their New Jack Swing-rooted debut, Ooooooohhh... On the TLC Tip in 1992, to the seminal CrazySexyCool two years later, saw a definite change in the R&B landscape. A change that contemporaries like Aaliyah and Destiny's Child would follow.

To better understand the impact of TLC on the wider R&B landscape, one only need to take a look at the music theirs was being released alongside.

Influential producers of the time including Babyface, Jermaine Dupri, Rico Wade, Darkchild and Teddy Riley ushered in a new era of music that blended contemporary R&B with hip hop and New Jack Swing, throwing a spotlight on artists who oozed sensuality, embraced the ballad and rode on insatiable grooves.

Still, while men in R&B were getting in touch with their sensitive, sexier sides through the decade, women often still played a tight set of roles; the scorned girlfriend, the vixen, the heartbreaker, the heartbroken.

By the end of the 1990s, pop music had the likes of Mariah Carey, Mary J. Blige, Janet Jackson, Lauryn Hill and Sade standing strong in going toe to toe with Boyz II Men, Dru Hill and a baby-faced Usher.

Pioneering a real representation of womanhood, in particular black womanhood, TLC’s longevity stems from the unabashed honesty in their lyrics and an effortless, engaging delivery.

The group’s career, though marred by internal creative conflict, eventual bankruptcy and publicised personal problems, persevered musically, leading TLC to become the best-selling American girl group of all time.

Between albums two and three, CrazySexyCool and FanMail, we got to see three women on a rollercoaster journey. Yet, creatively, their music and messaging remained unshakeable.

CrazySexyCool: The Red Light Special

The release of CrazySexyCool marked a new chapter for TLC. While they swapped the baggy jeans and condom-glasses for crop tops and smoulders, the empowering lyrical threads that wove their way through TLC’s debut album remained permanently at the core of their second.

Everything about CrazySexyCool was more mature than anything TLC had done before, but it wasn’t forced.

Between Tionne ‘T-Boz’ Watkins, Lisa ‘Left Eye’ Lopes and Rozonda ‘Chilli’ Thomas, there existed a dynamic that flourished on each other’s strengths.

T-Boz, with her frank and raw alto style. Left Eye, with her lyrical prowess that easily put her in the same league as Tupac Shakur. Chilli, with the ethereal sense of cool that we see mirrored in the likes of FKA twigs and Teyana Taylor today.

The material on CrazySexyCool featured songs about sex, love, loss and consequence. But, more importantly, the album was a statement that women were firmly in control. In control of how they wanted to be loved, how they engaged in sex, and that ultimately, they could play the same game as their male peers.

If Silk and Ginuwine could get away with less-than-subtle serenades on ‘Freak Me’ and ‘Pony', then best believe TLC could deliver the same type of bedroom jam with ‘Red Light Special’.

One of the album’s biggest singles, ‘Creep’, gave the long-told narrative of an unfaithful relationship a different spin. Instead of wallowing over her man stepping out, the female at the centre of the song decides to do the same back.

Geared towards female empowerment, the single’s release did not sit right with Left Eye, whose original rap (which didn’t make the final edit) acts as a caution against cheating-as-revenge.

“Creepin’ may cause hysterical behaviour in the mind/Put your life in a bind/And in time make you victim to a passionate crime…”

Regardless of which version you prefer, both stand as examples where TLC flipped the script in offering different perspectives on an infidelity narrative that had been so normalised by the culture and, in many ways, would continue to be in subsequent decades.

The other notable release from the album came in the defining single ‘Waterfalls’.

Unprotected sex, HIV/AIDS and gang violence are explored against Organized Noize production and effortless harmonies. Memorable for its music video and one of Left Eye’s most popular raps, ‘Waterfalls’ is a touchstone of TLC’s catalogue.

Funky R&B that was accessible enough to cross over into the pop realm, the single brought TLC more acclaim and took CrazySexyCool into the upper echelons of those 90s records that have become essentials for any R&B fan.

FanMail: A fighting return

As the year 2000 approached, a futuristic aesthetic became the driving force behind the third TLC record, FanMail. Arriving almost five years after CrazySexyCool, the album is a thank you to TLC fans, as much as a strong return for the group, who had weathered bankruptcy and a rough recording hiatus.

While the chart climate had changed in the interim, with names like Backstreet and Britney blowing up, TLC remained true to their messaging and as a result of expert R&B production courtesy of Dallas Austin, Babyface, Jermaine Dupri, Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis buoying the trio’s finessed writing and vocal delivery, FanMail became another critical success.

The success of a song like 'No Scrubs' speaks largely to the space TLC was bringing the 'Girl Power' movement into, as a younger demographic of fan was entering adolescence of their own.

The central message of women knowing their own worth and refusing to lower their standards for any man formed a song that has become one of TLC's most beloved.

A message that hasn't dated, and has been covered by artists as varied from Weezer to Kacey Musgraves, the heavyweight of FanMail holds up even now, 20 years on.

Tapping into insecurities and anxieties surrounding body image on 'Unpretty' proved to be another game changer for TLC's musical output, and provided a contrast to the tougher, gritter sounds with which FanMail was synonymous.

Layered synths, strings and guitars provided a simple, though beautiful backdrop to a timeless song that perhaps has even more relevance today, in an age dominated by social media.

'Maybe get rid of you/And then I'll get back to me.'

The album was a snapshot of TLC in a different phase of their careers; hardened and with perspective. No longer R&B darlings to be moulded in the vision of a plethora of male industry, these women positioned themselves in a strong position to emerge into the new millennium more empowered than ever.

A love letter to self-appreciation, self-love and female strength, FanMail would be the last album TLC would make before Left Eye's death, which makes its poignancy even heavier. Yet as a standalone record, its importance at the end of the 90s is untouchable.

Another prime example of TLC’s creative strides out of the shadows of a tomboy-fresh adolescence and into an adulthood soundtracked by music equal parts self-aware, sexy, and independent.

Interview: Two Door Cinema Club

PHOTO CREDIT: Katy Cummings
ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY BEAT MAGAZINE, JUNE 2019

Two Door Cinema Club formed an integral part of many indie playlists at the beginning of the 2010s.

Almost ten years on from the release of their debut Tourist History, the band has made an exciting return with their fourth studio record, False Alarm. The result is a vibrant and confident new snapshot of a band operating at their creative best.

“I think it’s an awesome time to get new music out,” says bass player Kevin Baird. “I think it was a necessity for us to do something that’s exciting and different.”

Well aware of the popularity of Tourist History and the place the album still holds in the hearts of many, Baird is quick to reassure that the importance of their debut hasn’t been lost on the band. However, we’re almost a decade on from ‘I Can Talk’ and ‘Undercover Martyn’.

“Making music and putting out albums, it is a journey,” Baird says. “We’re very different people to who we were when we were writing the first couple of albums. We’re nine or ten years older. The way we write music and what we get excited about has changed.”

“It’s really nice that people have grown up with us. I guess we’ve managed to stay a little bit relevant to those people with that first album, hopefully. It’s a really nice thing. I think we came around at the perfect time when streaming was in its infancy; it started to really kick off around 2013 and 2014, when we started to take some time off. It’s allowed people to go back so much easier to our earlier music and it’s given us the platform to do whatever the fuck we want.”

With False Alarm, the band collaborated once more with Jacknife Lee (The Killers, Bloc Party), a figure who has had a large part in the development of Two Door Cinema Club’s sound since their sophomore effort, Beacon.

“He’s a very inspiring person,” Baird says. “It feels like he’s never negative about anything, especially to do with music. It’s so fun. We don’t just spend time working at the computer on little bits of the song, it’s all about the journey and discovery as well. We’ll be discovering new music and records, constantly listening to new things and being inspired that way as well.”

“Initially it was hard for us,” he remembers. “We were worried about working with a big producer in 2011 and we were reassured by the fact he’s also from Ireland and he wasn’t a big time Hollywood producer who was going to change us. I think we’ve always really enjoyed his honesty and his humility, and his extremely amazing talent.”

Upon first listen of the record, False Alarm puts you at ease. A fun album jam-packed with melody and, if you’ve seen Two Door Cinema Club live, the energy matches that of what you see on stage. The album’s release is timely too, as it comes just after the news of the band’s Australian return for Grapevine Gathering.

The concept of touring this album is one that Baird is particularly excited about. Bringing False Alarm to life alongside their other three albums offers the band a chance to get stuck into four different phases of their creative journey.

“With this album, we’ve almost created a world that this album lives in,” he says. “We’ve put ourselves into that world and that’s become the basis of the music videos and the live shows. It’s so much fun for us to go two feet in with it.”

“We’ve felt like it’s been important to have some level of escapism,” he adds. “It’s always been about pure hedonistic enjoyment. I think sometimes, obviously when the room gets bigger and more people are there, you lose the sweaty, walls are dripping experience, but I think we’re continually trying to replicate that just on a bigger stage with more slick production.”

Interview: Briggs

PHOTO CREDIT: Michelle Grace Hunder
ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY https://www.thebigissue.org.au #588, JUNE 2019

With creative powerhouse Briggs at its helm, record label Bad Apples is set to push Indigenous musicians squarely into the spotlight. 

BRIGGS. One name for one man with many guises. A rapper with a unique sense of humour that’s made him a regular on the ABC’s The Weekly. A Simpsons fan invited to write for creator Matt Groening on his new Netflix series, Disenchantment. The man who made music for Indigenous sci-fi series Cleverman while playing the character Maliyan. The solo artist who teamed with producer Trials to create the earth-shaking duo A.B. Original. The Yorta Yorta man from Shepparton emblazoned with tattoos honouring his people. And, in what may turn out to be his most significant role yet, record label boss at Bad Apples.

“[I’m] trying to change the way that Australians perceive what Indigenous artists can be and who they are,” Adam Briggs says ahead of the Bad Apples showcase, taking place at the Sydney Opera House as part of Vivid Live.

Bad Apples is helmed by Briggs and label manager Coco Eke, who together nurture the careers of hip-hop artists BIRDZ, Nooky and Philly. The label is also home to A.B. Original.

“I don’t think it was as reactionary as people might think,” he muses of the label’s creation. “We often spoke, for the last few years, of how there was a lack of representation and there always has been, you know? The label doesn’t feel like a reaction to that; it feels like it’s actively trying to change the space and what the scene looked like. We were just trying to create a new lane, a new pathway.”

As one of the artists who has forged a career on this new pathway, emcee BIRDZ details the significance of Bad Apples Music when it’s come to his own creative direction: “When I first joined [the label], it was exciting to have a home and a support network,” he says. “It’s a label, but it’s a family and a home. There’s really no other way to describe it. I was excited about joining a movement that was led by someone that understood who I was and where I came from.” 

Releasing his debut album Train of Thought to industry acclaim in 2017, the Melbourne-based rapper has become a fixture on stages around the country, and is acknowledged as an important new voice of Australian hip-hop. The confidence to opine as strongly and freely as he has stems from the support of Briggs and Bad Apples.

“I have a vision and they’re like, ‘This is how you make it great’,” he says. “Just having that support and having them reaffirming and instilling that confidence in me, that’s really been significant. Those kinds of things led to me making an album I wanted to make and to be recognised the way it was recognised.”

Similarly, fellow Bad Apples artists Nooky and Philly have undergone immense levels of creative change in the years since their signing. Young artists cutting their teeth on stages and behind the production desk, they are prime examples of Australian excellence born out of determination and hunger for success.

Briggs is full of praise. “The growth of dudes like Nooky — being such a fantastic producer as well — watching that part of his career grow over the last couple of years [has been great]. Being able to be there for Phil, and helping guide him through his album and video; just being able to be there for these dudes at this point and also having the scope to grow it.” 

The ambition and broadened scope have culminated in a handful of successfully curated events, where Bad Apples have been able to give more emerging artists a platform – an exciting indicator of the kind of Indigenous talent approaching the precipice of wider acclaim. 

“Bad Apples did two all female line-ups for the Brunswick Music Festival and the Parramasala one in Parramatta.” Briggs says. “That was a conscious effort on our behalf over the last 18 months. I was like, ‘Look, it’s really easy for us to sign black men rappers, they’re everywhere! If we want to make the impact we want to make across the community, we need to be representative of the community’.

“It’s the exact same execution and method that we had when we started the label,” he continues. “It’s like, ‘There’s not enough blackfella rappers who have pathways, let’s make one.’ Alright, now we’ve done that, how do we bring in women and how do we make them feel safe and comfortable as well? Let’s work at that. I understand that I’m a dude in that world too, so I’m trying to navigate that and be as helpful as possible.”

For BIRDZ, this Sydney Opera House event in particular is exciting to be a part of. “It’s a real example of where Bad Apples is heading and it feels like there’s no real limit. I think that’s a big thing. For so long, a lot of us had felt there was a limit on us, but Bad Apples has really shown that there isn’t.”

Calendar Mark: Splendour in the Grass 2019

This year, Splendour in the Grass is hosting a variety of unique voices at their Splendour Forum, the program of which has been announced today.

Alongside the music element of the festival, Splendour is also giving a stage to comedians, activists, and other creatives to perform, share their ideas and encourage discussion with an audience eager to partake. Check out a bit of a wrap up of what went down at the Splendour Forum last year, below.

I’m stoked to be hosting another Hypothetical (similar to the one I’m helming at CHANGES, and also at last year’s Melbourne Music Week) at the Forum, which poses the question: Is It Environmentally Responsible To Be Human?

Intrigued? I know I am.

Official Description

Amid ongoing global inaction to curb human-driven climate change – humanity faces an existential crisis. Young people worldwide are increasingly engaged in activism, demanding climate action to preserve the habitat they will inherit. Voluntary human extinction movements are gaining mainstream traction, with proponents voluntarily ceasing to breed in efforts to allow Earth’s biosphere to recover.

In this Hypothetical: “Is it environmentally responsible to be human?”, philosophers, environmentalists, artists and experts come together to negotiate philosophical outlooks, influence action and maintain progress in the thick of the climate crisis we face. Presenter and comedian Adam Spencer will take a group of specially selected respondents through a hypothetical exercise to collectively work through a moral dilemma, to aid in navigating future challenges.

The panel is moderated by Adam Spencer, and will feature Allara Briggs Pattison, Prof. Peter Singer, filmmakers Damon & Zoe Gameau, Sen. Peter Whish-Wilson, Marieke Hardy, Gareth Liddiard (Tropical Fuck Storm, The Drones), Heidi Lenffer (Cloud Control), and Mara Bun.

As well as the Hypothetical, I’ll also be speaking on a panel presented by The Pin and APRA AMCOS, entitled “The Power of Enough”. If you haven’t heard of The Pin, check them out here to find out more about the amazing work they do in sharing the stories of some powerful individuals and encouraging, supporting and nurturing a more diverse artistic culture here in Australia.

Official Description:

When there is no blueprint for how to take on a dream, a scene or an industry, how do we know when we’re enough? With rising social change, movements are often criticised for leaving women of colour out of the conversation.

The Pin, a website centred on conversations around race, identity, and culture, investigates the turning point for three dynamic, fascinating and powerful women who have tackled colourism, womanhood, indigeneity, class and the creative industry, to break the mould for the better. Find out where each artist takes their inspiration from, how they have grown both in music and in womanhood, the challenges they have individually overcome to get to where they are, and what they hope to find in the future.

Hosted by The Pin’s Nkechi Anele and Lucie Cutting, I’ll be joining Thandi Phoenix, Neil Morris (DRMNGNW) and DJ Jennifer Loveless in conversation.

SO MUCH IS HAPPENING IN JULY!

If you want to find out more about the Splendour in the Grass program, visit www.splendourinthegrass.com and if you’re going, see you in the tent!

Listen In: Play On Radio →

Play On Radio is approaching its six month mark!

Here’s a little background on the project, If you’re still getting to know…

Play On Radio exists to highlight the cultural crossover between modern music and footy. Bringing together an informed, diverse and fresh group of presenters to host a plethora of new shows, and popular podcasts.

Together with Gemma Bastiani (Pozible, ex. Casual Band Blogger), I’ve been digging into music programming for this new digital station, where we’ve been hosting shows and podcasts traversing the worlds of music and sport.

I’ve been enjoying putting a spotlight on Australian artists and forming curated music hours with them, and bringing their stories to light in an unique way. Across our roster, you can delve deep into genre-specific shows (Pink Noise, The Punk Show, The Breakdown), as well as some brilliantly curated shows from the likes of Sabrina Robertson, Don’t Fret Club, Miks Everitt, Jack R Reilly, Paul Waxman and our footy brethren, the How Good’s Footy crew.

If you want to get your music played, simply head here to submit.

To enquire about artist interviews for Play On Radio or the Australian Jams podcast, email gemma@riotexpert.com or hello@sosefinafuamoli.com

Tune in online at playonradio.live!

Review: Ceres - We Are A Team (2019) →

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY BEAT MAGAZINE, MAY 2019

There was a point in time when Ceres frontman Tom Lanyon was ready to give up on music. The Melbourne band who have won the hearts of many music fans around the country had struck such a chord with the release of their sophomore album, Drag It Down on You, it would make sense that the momentum would spur its successor on.

This wasn’t the case.

However, through periods of reflection and eventual inspiration, Lanyon began to write, specifically the single ‘Viv in the Front Seat’, and from there We Are a Team was born. The album is one about relationships, love and confidence; a sense of optimism shining through the darkness stands out as Ceres enter a triumphant new phase.

“I’m gonna get happy,” Lanyon sings on album opener ‘Marriage’. It’s a fitting gauntlet for the rest of the album to run as Ceres continue to operate at their heartstring-tugging best. ‘Me & You’ and ‘Something Good’ remain strong album highlights, yet We Are a Team is an album best digested whole. Longtime fans of the band will note the rich evolution of the Ceres sound here, while newcomers are being introduced to a band brought back from the brink and attacking their craft with renewed vigour and sincerity.

Feature: A Breakdown of Little Simz' 'Grey Area'

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY LNWY, MARCH 2019

“Allow me to pick up where I left off,” Little Simz spits on ‘Offence’, the opening track of third album GREY Area. “The biggest phenomenon and I’m Picasso with the pen.”

As the title suggests, the London rapper is still bridging that gap between her grime and underground hip-hop beginnings and a burgeoning artistic profile that has garnered praise from Kendrick Lamar, tours with the likes of Ms. Lauryn Hill, and collaborations with Gorillaz.

“I left it all in the music,” the 25-year-old tells me, reflecting on another emotional creative process, following 2016’s Stillness in Wonderland, which put her on the map. “The anticipation has been crazy, which has been nerve-wracking as well, but I’m excited.”

Dealing with anger, love lost, grief and the call to greatness, Little Simz takes us through these 10 songs of intense emotion and lyrical prowess.

‘Offence’

This track not only sets a great tone for the album, but it’s a wicked call to arms. When in the process of making this album did this song come to life for you?
This was one of the first songs we made, actually. I remember [childhood friend/producer] Inflo working on the production. I didn’t even like it, to be honest. It was so different. I think it just caught me off guard. It got me out of my comfort zone. I didn’t like the beat, he didn’t like my writing, but we decided to build on it because I liked my writing and he liked the beat! There had to be an element of trust and we collectively kept building on the song.

‘Boss’

The bassline on this tune is such a good example of how groovy this record is, the rhythmic control throughout is great. Can you see ‘Boss’ as being a bit of a companion piece to ‘Offence’?
‘Boss’ is just me going off, really. It’s super raw, cutting edge. It’s just very raw. I remember when I recorded it, I recorded it on a shitty little hand-held [mic]. I recorded the rest of the album on this really nice, crispy [one]. I thought, “I need to re-record ‘Boss’ on this other really nice mic”, to make everything feel consistent. I thought I could add the distortion and the effects later. So I actually did. I recorded it and it just lost some of the magic. We decided to keep it [the original version] and it turned out perfectly.

‘Selfish’ (ft. Cleo Sol)

How did you get linked up with Cleo Sol for the first time?
I met Cleo through Flo [aka Inflo]. Cleo’s been around for years, I used to listen to her when I was in school. I think what she brought to ‘Selfish’, I don’t feel like anyone else could have brought. When I was writing this song, it was super stripped back and raw. Nothing had been added, no strings, no bass. It was literally just the piano and drums. We kept building on it and it became more and more special. I think we all knew it was going to be something really special from the beginning stages; I’m really pleased with how that one turned out.

‘Wounds’ (ft. Chronixx)

When it comes to ‘Wounds’, the way you channel pain and raw emotion is done so well. The orchestration tied in with your lyricism adds another level of emotion to it. Take me through the significance of this one to you?
‘Wounds’ was a song I wrote when my friend had just died. He was murdered. I remember getting the news in the morning. I woke up to a missed call telling me. Later on in the day, I went to the studio and just sat in the studio by myself in the dark and just cried. Nobody knew I was at the studio, no one in the building even knew I was in the studio. I just snuck in. I just looped a beat and started writing. That’s what started. Before that event had happened, we had the beat for it already. Flo had made it and I just didn’t know how I wanted to approach it. It had to sit for a bit and I knew when I came back to it, it would make sense, but I wasn’t going to force it. It’s a shame that it took that to happen for me to write that song.

‘Venom’

‘Venom’ was me releasing all this built up anger that I had over the years, brooding. I released it all on ‘Venom’.

‘101 FM’

This one reminded me of Jay Z’s ‘Big Pimpin’’ era. This track sounds like it was a lot of fun to make.

When I had made it, I instantly knew, “This was the one.” This was what I grew up on, you know? As much as it does have that ‘Big Pimpin’’ hip-hop aesthetic, it is a grime track. It’s what I grew up on, so that song – as soon as I had the beat, I connected with it so quick. I felt 15 again. It’s nuts. I felt like I was in my pocket, I knew how to sit in it. It felt very familiar. Even after we made that, we made another three grime songs. After we had our little grime phase we steered back on course for the album.

‘Pressure’ (ft. Little Dragon)

Another collaboration that works well even though it might be left field for some, with Little Dragon in the fold. How did that come about?

We had the song and we thought [Little Dragon singer] Yukimi [Nagano] would sound great on it. My manager at the time hit her team up and it just progressed from there. We connected and started talking. We chopped it up. She’s super lovely, super nice. It turned out she was a fan too, which I didn’t know. I thought it was going to be a bit of a long shot, but she was into it for sure.

‘Therapy’

Unabashed confidence and honesty is a huge drawcard here. What mindset are you in when you’re writing this sort of song?

I think it’s a universal topic, therapy and mental health. I think it’s one that a lot of people can relate to. More so at the time when I was writing the record, I’d been told that therapy would be good for me. I didn’t really want to hear it, I didn’t really understand the concept. Going and sitting there in an appointment, I didn’t get it. I didn’t feel like it was something I wanted to invest my money into at the time. I just took to what I do, which is do it myself and put it on record. I guess I wrote it imagining myself in a therapy session, lying on the sofa [with a] coffee table and someone in front of you. It’s like I’m talking to a therapist.

‘Sherbet Sunset’

What took you down this song’s direction?
Love, innit? Another universal concept; something I’m sure a lot of people can relate to. I didn’t want it to come across as a diss track, I’m not out here dissing anyone. It’s just my vibe. To be honest, everything I needed to say about that song, I’ve said it. Even just thinking about it now, I’ve said everything I’ve wanted to say on it. Especially on that one.

‘Flowers’ (ft. Michael Kiwanuka)

As the album closer, ‘Flowers’ is very defined, very weighted. What does this song mean to you?

It’s super important. I’m really proud of this song. Paying homage to the greats, of course, people who have paved the way. Great, great musicians who have graced this earth. [‘Flowers’ namechecks artists who died at 27, including Jimi Hendrix, Kurt Cobain, Janis Joplin, Robert Johnson, and Amy Winehouse.]

For me, just looking at my life, where I’m at now and where they were at when … that age is right around the corner. I’m not saying anything’s going to happen to me, touch wood, but it’s crazy how quick time flies.

When I think about how much I want to achieve and how ambitious I am, I’m thinking about how ambitious they must have been,  too. They were so young and there was so much more they could have done and offered the earth. I remember when 25 looked so far away. Now I’m here and I don’t know how I got here, I just did. I landed here. It’s another reflective song, paying homage.

GREY Area, an album by Little Simz on Spotify

Feature: From Arular to AIM – the politics and activism of M.I.A.

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.

Listen In: The Scenario - Kiss FM

PHOTO CREDIT: Chelsea King

Since late 2018, I’ve been on air weekly with one of Australia’s best photographers (certainly one of the leading music photographers in the country), Michelle Grace Hunder, hosting The Scenario on Kiss FM.

While traditionally a dance music station, The Scenario is Kiss FM’s flagship hip-hop and R&B show, programming everything from new and old schools, while also hosting special guests in studio. Both Michelle and myself are passionate about giving new artists the platform to share their stories and new music, and The Scenario has given us an opportunity to do so, while also connecting with the wider hip-hop community.

Recent guests have included Remi and Sensible J, Genesis Owusu, Lady Lash, Kwasi, Mai Sisters and Saint Lane, while the second half of 2019 is looking to be stacked too.

If you’d like to get on our radar, follow us on social media below - for artist and interview, email our producer Elle Sutherland (elle@hellomoonhouse.com).

Tune in Wednesday nights from 7pm at kissfm.com.au or on 86.7 and 86.88 FM if you’re cruising around through Melbourne and the inner north.

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