The one time Richard Pryor went away was during the years when he masqueraded as a Bill Cosby clone. I remember watching an old tape of Richard appearing on the Tonight Show (Or was it the Ed Sullivan Show?) in a tight sweater with a small collar shyly protruding from the crew neck. He looked nervous and constricted like the tight sweater and little collar worked in tandem to compress his range of movement into awkward hand waggles and open-handed appeals to the audience. I don’t remember his jokes but he was funny. Not Richard Pryor funny. Just Funny. Richard Pryor funny didn’t come until one night in 1969 at the Alladin Hotel in Las Vegas. The Cosby Clone went to the stage and moved into his innocuous and non-offensive routine. Halfway through he stopped, stared out at the audience and asked...

“What the fuck am I doing here?”

Then walked off the stage.

He lost the tight sweaters and the little collars. He moved to Berkeley, California and bounced around the Bay Area. He hung out with Ishmael Reed and Huey P. Newton. He read up on Malcolm. He ran with the pusher and pimp archetypes he knew well from his youth. The elasticity in his body came back and brought the rhythm back with it. He put the performance back in the art and vice versa. And he was funny again. I mean Richard Pryor funny. You know, the type of funny that he had honed in whorehouses and tested on some of the most demanding audiences the chitlin' circuit could offer. The type of funny that will never go away again.

The Seventies, the years after Richard Pryor came back, were his salad days. He began by radically redefining what stand up comedy should sound, look and feel like. He got into moving pictures. He started off as the scene-chewing supporting actor (Lady Sings The Blues, The Mack, Bingo Long Traveling All-Stars and Motor Kings), screenplay and television writer (Blazing Saddles, Sanford and Son, Flip Wilson Show) and scene-chewing cameo assassin (Car Wash, Uptown Saturday Night, The Wiz ) and moved into leading man and the funnier half of buddy movie partnerships (Silver Streak, Which Way Is Up?,Stir Crazy). He also brought his stage show to film, shooting Richard Pryor Live In Concert, and Live and Smokin.

The transformation from Cosby clone was complete when Richard took the stage on the set of the Richard Pryor Show (Network Television pre cable) in something resembling 70’s pimp attire, performed a little rock and roll and then machined gunned the audience. This time he wasn’t asking questions, he was taking audience members out one by one. The Cosby Clone seemed like a million years ago.

I got hip on Richard in the mid to late seventies, I was a little kid and understood little of what I heard but the thrill and anticipation that energized a room when “That Nigger is Crazy” or “Was it Something I Said” was put on a turntable was palpable. Then there was the voice. The white man voice, the female voice, the corner hustler voice, the old man-on back porch-overlooking a marsh voice. The voice, in all its forms, was tied to good times, red lights- this type of thing. Even when the voice wasn’t saying something happy and frilly- which I later learned was usually the case- it was tied to good times because Richard turned pain and pathos into comedy. He did this for men. He did this for women. He did this for children. I didn’t always understand what Richard Pryor was saying but I understood Richard Pryor. And the reason a little boy could get Richard Pryor was because anyone who had an ounce of respect for the truth could get Richard Pryor.

But Richard was never the same after setting himself on fire. His thoughts turned inward and his comedy more reflective. By the time the 80’s rolled around he had begun sleep walking through big budget films and personalized star vehicles with a bewildered and frightened mask on his grill. Then multiple sclerosis did what self-immolation, censors, seven second delays, flaming cognac baths and domestic battles couldn’t- silence Richard Pryor. Like Ali, Richard’s voice left him and as an extension (like Ali) Richard’s voice left us. Yet, Richard Pryor didn’t leave us again. He hovered above every comedian that stretched a joke into a story and dared to put character into their content. Every person telling a joke on a stage, into a microphone, before a camera, in a bar, from a back seat or across a table has to access that Richard Pryor Funny strain that has been absorbed into our collective DNA. If he/she can’t find it then he/she isn’t going to be funny. Its just that simple.

Richard Pryor lived hard and could treat people around him as hard as he treated himself. Five marriages splintered and died and he often lamented his problems with being a father. Even Jim Brown spoke of Richard with a croak in his throat (on television no less), going on about how Richard had done him wrong. But no matter how hard he was on the people around him, he saved his best abuse for himself. He was the cat that ate the canary but that was cool because he left everything behind- a laugh, a thought, a sliver of truth, a pound of blood, an indelible memory. Richard Pryor has passed. But he ain’t dead muthafucka. He’ll never leave us again.

Phillip Harvey is the editor of nat creole. He is excited about 2006. Please hit him up at ph@natcreole.com with any thoughts, suggestions, beliefs and other forms of commentary. Hold the beef please.

1940

Richard Franklin Lennox Thomas Pryor III, the only child of Leroy Pryor, the son of a madam, and Gertrude Thomas Pryor, a prostitute, is born in Peoria, Ill on Dec 1. 1940. Pryor would grow up in the whorehouse run by his maternal grandmother

1947

At the age of 6, Pryor is molested by a teenager from his neighborhood

1953

Juliette Whitaker, a supervisor at a local public recreation facility casts Pryor in a production of Rumplestiltskin. It is Pryor’s first taste of performing in front of an audience

1955

Pryor is expelled from school at the age of fourteen and embarks on a series of odd jobs- strip club janitor, shoe-shine, meat packer, billiard hall attendant etc.

1958- 1960

Pryor does a short stint in the army that ends with an altercation with a fellow soldier

1960

Pryor begins doing stand up in clubs around Peoria. Famous for being a main stop on the “chitlin' circuit,” Peoria gives Pryor the opportunity to hone his craft in front of demanding audiences

1963

Pryor moves to New York City to join the big leagues and become the next Bill Cosby. He is soon playing on bills with the likes of Richie Havens, Bob Dylan and Woody Allen in Greenwich Village clubs.

1964

Pryor makes his national television debut on Rudy Vallee’s On Broadway Tonight.

1967

Records his first comedy album, Richard Pryor.

1968

Pryor appears in his first movie, Busy Body with Sid Caesar

1969

Tired of conforming to the constraints of playing to Las Vegas audiences, Pryor walks off the stage at the Aladdin Hotel in the middle of his routine. Pryor soon after moves to the Bay Area and begins to reconfigure his career

1972

Pryor is cast in a supporting role in Lady Sings the Blues, Berry Gordy’s Billie Holiday inspired Diana Ross vehicle. Pryor wins critical acclaim for his performance.

1973

Pryor appears in two Lily Tomlin television specials. The specials receive wide acclaim and Pryor wins an Emmy and Writers Guild award for his writing contributions. Pryor also writes for the Sanford and Son and Flip Wilson shows

1974

Pryor releases comedy album That Niggers Crazy. It is a huge crossover success, shoots to number 29 on the Billboard charts and garners Pryor a Grammy for best comedy recording

Pryor is slated to play the lead in the Mel Brook’s film Blazing Saddles but is replaced by Cleavon Little after the film’s backers balk at Pryor’s reputation

1975

Is It Something I Said, Pryor’s follow up to That Niggers Crazy, goes gold and garners Pryor his second Grammy

Pryor makes the first of a series of appearances on Saturday Night Live that help establish the reputation of the venerable television show

1976

The film Silver Streak is a box office hit. The movie marks the beginning of Pryor’s on-screen partnership with Gene Wilder

Pryor releases Bicentennial Nigger comedy album

1977

Pryor releases the Richard Pryor Special? on NBC. The special receives rave reviews and is followed up with the Richard Pryor Show. The show, though critically acclaimed, becomes a battleground between Pryor and network censors and ceases production after 4 episodes

1978

Pryor is fined $500, placed on probation and ordered to seek psychiatric care for shooting his wife’s car on New Year’s Day

1979

Moved by his visit to Kenya, Pryor swears off using the word “nigger” in his stage performances and, consequently, receives death threats and hate mail.

Pryor sets the standard for concert film performances with the release of Richard Pryor, Live in Concert

1980

Pryor forms his own production company, Indigo, under the banner of Columbia Pictures. Pryor recruits Jim Brown to run his fledgling company

Pryor sets himself on fire after cocaine freebasing binge. He nearly dies in the incident and requires 3 skin grafts and plastic surgery on his way to recovery. Pryor appears on The Tonight Show later in the year and tells the tale.

1983

Pryor is paid $4 million dollars to star as a villain in the third installment of the Superman series featuring Christopher Reeves. It is by far the most money a black actor had ever received to appear in a movie

1986

Pryor releases the autobiographical JoJo Dancer, Your Life is Calling, it is widely touted as the last great performance of Richard Pryor

Pryor is diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis

1991

Pryor appears in Another You, his last major film production

Pryor suffers a 3rd heart attack and has quadruple-bypass surgery

1992

Pryor launches another concert tour though he is unable to stand during his routine and performs from an easy chair. The tour is short lived.

1995

Pryor releases his autobiography Pryor Convictions: And Other Life Sentences on Pantheon Books

1998

Pryor is the first person to be awarded the Mark Twain Humor Prize in a lavish affair at the Kennedy Center

2005

Richard Pryor dies of a heart attack on the morning of Dec. 10. He was 65 years old

+family legacy

the dixons. storer college+niagara movement+john brown
+sunni knight

Printable Version  

Once upon a time in a place called Charles Town, in what would become the State of West Virginia, there lived the beginnings of a family of “Mulattos” as they were described in the census of 1850. Their surname was Dixon. The person listed on the 1850 census named Archilles, with the occupation of Blacksmith, was the son of Jemima Dixon and appears to be one of five children. Their paternity is, at this point, unsubstantiated. According to family lore, Achilles (and presumably the others) was fathered by a white man by the name of “Lane” who was said to be the son of the “secretary” of Chief Justice John Marshall. According to biographies, Justice Marshall was born in Fauquier County, VA and practiced law in both Germantown, MD and an area described as being in the “ Blue Ridge Mountain Valley.” He frequented the areas in and around Charles Town and Washington, DC prior to making his permanent home in Richmond, VA. Research indicates that the name of Jemima’s “suitor” was more likely John Laidley, a fellow lawyer who was periodically in the Charles Town area around the appropriate times and acted as Marshall’s mentee. Laidley eventually settled in Huntington, WVA where he founded a school named after his friend and mentor, Justice Marshall. That being said I still look upon the issue as a mystery yet to be solved.

Archilles paid $100 on August 19, 1839 (according to a bill of sale found in Charles Town records) to a Mrs. Margaret Kearsley- a prominent Charles Town resident- for the freedom of his wife, Ellen and their two children, William and Urania Camilla. According to more unsubstantiated lore, Ellen was the offspring of a liaison between the one of the daughters of a man named Zachariah Connells and an Iroquois Indian who lived on the property. Zachariah was the first permanent white settler and therefore, according to American tradition, the “founder” of Connellsville, PA in 1770. Zachariah was a Welshman and captain in the Revolutionary War that came to the area as an agent for 2 governors (Virginia and Maryland) and a prominent Philadelphia family. It therefore follows that an unmarried daughter’s half breed baby would not have been acceptable as a family member. Given the mores and customs of the time it is not a reach to hypothesize that the child could have been indentured to a prominent Charles Town family such as the Kearsley’s. (Mr. Kearsley was a lawyer whose name is repeatedly evident in Jefferson County legal documents of the period). Archilles, in his capacity of blacksmith, would have had a far reaching clientele and in this way he probably met, married and was eventually able to purchase Ellen’s freedom.

In 1795, 6 years before Jefferson County, West Virginia was organized, the property at 115 Liberty Street on the corner of Samuel Street and Liberty Avenue in Charles Town, West Virginia was purchased. The original parcel was about a quarter of the total block which contained a log cabin and a separate building housing a smithy. Eventually the property consisted of the main house (which was expanded by 5 rooms and provided with a basement), the blacksmith shop, a pig sty, a cow barn, a smoke house, a spring house, an outhouse, a summer kitchen, a cistern and a garden. And even later, another four room house was built on the lot as well. There is a hand drawn map showing the placement of the buildings sitting in my file cabinet. The property was known to still be in the hands of the Dixon family in 1945 by way of an article in The Advocate, a local newspaper, speaking of 150 years of never mortgaged, continuous ownership. It was at that time owned by a John J. Dixon – presumably the heir of the youngest son of Ellen and Archilles Dixon.

The smaller house was said to be the initial meeting place of the school that came to be known as Storer College. Storer was the first African American school in West Virginia and was established to educate former slaves. Storer was officially established in 1867, moved to nearby Harper’s Ferry, and became a Normal and Liberal Arts institution that operated until 1955. Frederick Douglas was a trustee of the school and delivered a historic speech on the subject of John Brown at Storer in 1881. (Noteworthy at the time because Harper’s Ferry was Brown’s stomping grounds, so to speak.) The school was, in 1906, the site of the second conference of the Niagara Movement (which later became the NAACP) headed by Dr. W.E.B. Dubois. At onetime there was an extensive campus but a fire destroyed many of the original buildings and others were demolished as safety hazards. Some of the buildings still exist and are used as the Stephen T. Mather Training Center, a training institute for Rangers and Park Managers, and house a small museum/ picture gallery. The site is on a hill above a very old graveyard. You can also visit Storer at www.nps.gov/hafe/storer.htm . Along with historical information the website consists of many faculty and student group photos. My sister and I enjoyed looking for the names and speculating over the faces of possible relatives.

The square block on which the Dixon property stood is occupied by the Jefferson County Courthouse and jail and is pretty much in the center of the town. It is attested to that during the Civil War Charles Town sustained considerable Union (or Federal as you prefer) shelling because of it’s proximity to the arsenal at Harper’s Ferry and John Brown’s activities. It is said that during one attack Archilles hid in the cistern while Ellen and the kids were in the basement and that the house was imbedded with shot from Union guns thereafter. It is also said that they could hear the proceedings of the John Brown trial from their yard.

It would be interesting to find out when this property passed out of Dixon ownership. My son and I visited the courthouse, and therefore the land on which the house once stood, and I don’t remember anything but that building and the jail.

Sunni Knight is a regular contributor to nat creole. for which we are happy and grateful. She can be contacted at sk@natcreole.com

+ click image to enlarge

ray llanos. carib camera
photographer

Printable version  

We held court with Ray in the Meatpacking district of Manhattan and talked about his work with the Studio Museum of Harlem, his work with Aaron Davis Hall, and his work with the joy and energy of Carnival.

Nat Creole: Tell us a little about your background

Ray Llanos: I’m from the Virgin Islands originally, St. Croix. I lived there until I was twelve and then I moved to Silver Spring, Maryland. Growing up in the Silver Spring/DC area was a beautiful place to be. The culture is strong, the diversity… It’s a concentrated, diversified slice of the Diaspora. That’s why they call it Chocolate City. It’s the truth.

NC: Right

Ray: My father’s side of the family is from Puerto Rico, Vieques to be exact. My mother’s side is Afro-Caribbean and I readily identify with both. And being from St Croix, the middle of the Caribbean, you identify with all of the cultures of the Caribbean

NC: Why is that?

Ray: It’s a US territory so you have a lot of people from other countries that come to St. Croix to earn the US Dollar. Its closer and easier then Puerto Rico or Miami. I always grew up with people from Trinidad, Antigua and points north and south. As a result I was already exposed to a melting pot of the Caribbean. Coming to DC put me into a melting pot of the world and built on my foundation.

NC: When did you decide to pick up the camera?

Ray: There is some history beyond the camera. I’ve always been a visual artist. My mother recognized it when I was young and began enrolling me in private art classes because she wanted me to explore my opportunities. And bless her heart because she was raising 3 kids on 2 jobs and she spent that extra money as an investment. She wanted to make sure that I had options. I’ve always had a need to have a creative outlet

My brother has been a photographer for over 20 years so I was frequently exposed to photographs andimages. I have a great black and white of my mother and myself from when I was 3 years old. If I didn’t own that picture it would still stay with me because it is such a beautiful piece of work

NC: Is it one of your brother’s pieces?

Ray: No it was from another photographer in St. Croix named KC. I remember the experience from being a subject to seeing the completed image. That picture has had a lasting effect on me.

To answer your question on when I decided to pick up a camera and take it seriously was in 2000. I was talking to my best friend Lesley and after being subjected to my point-and-shoot camera everywhere we went-including Trinidad. We decided I should buy my first SLR instead of taking a bartending course. It was kind of a crossroads period in my life.

Oggi Ogburn- A music industry photographer for over 30 years- is also a great mentor personally and professionally.

NC: How did Carib Camera formulate?

Ray: Carib Camera became an entrepreneurial endeavor after I began doing photography on a professional basis. We wanted to present images that further the culture of carnival. Beyond the bacchanal. Beyond theslackness. Its not just women in bikinis. We wanted to counter all of that with images that carry some form of social awareness.

From there I wanted to see what I could do with my images beyond storing them on my website so I went down to Trinidad to see what ideas I could produce. I came up with the idea to do a calendar- Caribbean Calendar- and shot Carnival the following year. Our marketing niche consisted of turning the images around quickly so people could have a souvenir from Carnival. We are now in our 3 rd year of production

This past summer we decided to come up with Carib Camera I Love My People t-shirts, meaning my people from all over the world. My Virgin Islands people, my Trinidadian people, my African American people, mypeople all over the world. We brought them out in time for the Puerto Rican Day Parade and they were an immediate success. We learned that we could make the shirt for every country in the world so that people could represent their country in a fashionable manner without being touristy. From South Korea to Madagascar. I’m happy with the direction things are moving in. Silk-screening is possibly the next step of what I want to do with my images.

NC: When I look at your work I think about celebrations, bodies moving and dancing. Is that a primary part of your overall approach or creative philosophy?

Ray: I have always admired griots and story-tellers so I’ve worked to become one. Photo-Griot is the term I usefor a person that captures the energy of an event and tells an audience so much about the event that they feel like they were there. As a Photo Griot I have to capture the moments that are poignant and go from there.

NC: Is there a different approach between the work you do for Carib Camera and the work you do for the Studio Museum in Harlem and Aaron Davis Hall?

Ray: Somewhat. The best thing is that the Studio Museum and Aaron Davis Hall respect me as an artist and a photographer. I didn’t have to give up the integrity of being an artist for the service side of things. I’ve been blessed that these two institutions have accepted this, appreciated what I have brought them and have never asked me to do anything different. So there are a lot of similarities to when I’m shooting Carnival. I’ve beengoing to Carnival since 98 and the first thing you have to learn is to stay focused and realize that the editing process is very poignant. Its the same with my work with the Studio Museum and Aaron Davis Hall. Whether it is a book signing, gallery opening, concert of a music legend or a dance performance I’m looking to capture the essence of what is there.

NC: Tell us about the group “Image Griots” that you are affiliated with

Ray: Its a collective of photographers that are primarily based in the Bronx and we work from both an artistic and educational standpoint. One of the projects that we are currently working on is called Blurred Boundaries. We are photographing all 61 or 63 neighborhoods of the Bronx. Its an exciting project and I’m enjoying trying tocapture the culture of the Bronx

NC: You’ve been doing some work towards AIDS awareness in the Caribbean

Ray: With AIDS being so prevalent on the African continent as well as in the Caribbean it would be ridiculous for me not to do what I can to combat it. Just from a position of being an educator. I was fortunate to connect with Maya Trotz of Phiva.net. She explained to me her goals and I believed in what she was doing. So when Carib Camera released its first calendar, we did a tie-in and created some awareness for what she was doing with the project. I always try to move with some social consciousness.

Please visit www.caribcamera.com for more information on Ray, his work, his projects, his life. On Feb. 9th, Caribbean Celebrations: Port of Spain to NYC , Ray's one man show, opens at Aaron Davis Hall, Harlem NYC. Email info@caribcamera.com for more info.

+ click image to enlarge

harlem nights. tribute to richard pryor
@ adam clayton powell state building
harlem world. nyc

Printable version  

When British born, New York based neo-expressionist artist Renaldo heard of Richard Pryor’s passing, he knew immediately that he would have to do a tribute to the greatest comedian of the modern age. With his one man show- The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face – adorning the walls of the Adam Clayton Powell Jr. State Office Building gallery, Renaldo knew he had the ideal platform and he proved it. By adding new Richard portraits to the two pieces he already had on display in The First Time… exhibition and playing the king's recordings over the loud speaker, Renaldo provided the perfect environment for honoring the passing of one of the giants of the 20th century. Renaldo provided a celebration. Good look, Renaldo, good look.

For more info on Renaldo's work and activities email him at renaldoartstudio@rcn.com and check out his work on display @ Maroons Restaraunt in the Chelsea section of Manhattan and MOCA in Harlem. HIs work also graces the cover of Ras Baraka's Black Girls Learn Love Hard (Moore Black Press/ 2005).

HeadKnot by CD

Blue Note Trip: Jazzanova 1970

Blue Note Records

daara j. senegalese hip hop
weapons of mass communication: daara J and the creation of the hip-hop civilization
+robert nolan

Printable version

If Africa is in the midst of a hip-hop renaissance, the Senegalese trio Daara J could be the movement's foremost statesmen. Earning accolades worldwide for their vibrant 2004 record Boomerang ( Wrasse Records), the Dakar-based MCs Faada Freddy, N'Dongo D and Aladji are keen to explore the links between worlds old and new, and their music lies at the crux of what they call an emerging "hip-hop civilization." Robert Nolan spoke with Faada Freddy earlier this year about hip-hop's African roots, its emergence as an international language and the ability of music to evoke social and political change across the globe.

How did you guys first get into hip-hop?

When we first got started, Grandmaster Flash’s “The Message,” “Don’t push me cause I’m close to the… edge,” was one of the first songs that we heard and it was like, we know this music. It was an incarnation of the music we already knew from the griots [traditional West African caste of musicians] and tassou [traditional staccato rap].

We began to analyze the similarities between American rap and tassou. At that time the music was not computerized. All we had were calabash and drums. When you take the tassou and put it on a hip-hop track, you can’t tell it apart. We said, yeah, we can do that music because we identify with it.

In the beginning it was very difficult, because when you wanted to rap, people think you are trying to be a gangster. Even people into hip-hop music in Senegal would view it as marginal, uprooted, going away from their culture. Therefore, we had to prove that hip-hop is from Africa.

Some might contend hip-hop started right here in New York City.

Hip- hop just took its own course. Because of slavery, it has involved Afro-Americans, who brought the oral tradition into a modern music called hip-hop. The ancient form, though, is tassou. So we began to explain that, to let people know that what we were doing is from the heart and is part of our own culture.

What we’re going to do here is build up the bridge that slavery has broken. It’s about reminding some people of their roots. Many of my brothers here don’t remember their line, their African line. Some of them are Yoruba, who come from Nigeria, some from Gambia. They forgot.

But I’m like the portrait of yesterday. I’m the reflection from the mirror that was broken, forgotten. It’s good to see that people coming from where it started are coming around here to say, ok, we got separated, but now here we are, like a big family. You’ve been ripped up from your native land, but not from your culture. Hip-hop is a form of modern day griotism. But today, music brought us together. I was a million miles away, but today I am here. Look at the miracles that music do.

Tell me a bit more about tassou.

Tassou is something very natural. Everybody does it. It’s improvisation about your life, what you see in the streets, whatever.

So it’s kind of like freestyling?

Yeah. In Africa, music is not something industrial, its just natural, a part of our lifestyle. We don’t really focus on how many records we sell. It’s about how you feel, and how you are going to bring out this feeling verbally. That’s why everybody, more or less sings there.

What’s the difference between performing in the U.S. versus Africa?

Of course, we don’t really know the American audience. But there ain’t no audience like the African audience! When you are on stage, people come to dance with you, and it’s about sharing the music. We don’t really deal with these industrial things, bling and stuff, fancy cars, we’re not calling the girls ho’s. For the moment, it’s about the message, a positive message.

Dakar’s hip-hop scene is blowing up these days. Do you see your peers as collaborators or competitors?

Competition has to be to push any MC to excel himself and his work. But let us not focus on that, because you would rather talk about the guns that the youth are carrying in the street than clashing with each other. The credo of ‘my rap is better than your rap,’ even though it’s a pillar of hip-hop which we respect, let us not focus on this. We have more to teach and to learn, so let us not waste our time with violent rhymes and unconscious rhymes.

You guys rhyme in a whole slew of languages. French, English, Spanish and your native Wolof all make appearances on Boomerang. In [the documentary African hip-hop film] Ouaga Hip-Hop, you talk a lot about the importance of language in music.

I think the first language that has ever existed is the language of feeling. Two people can speak the same language, but if they don’t feel each other, the message won’t go through.

It took us a long time listening to American music before we could understand the words, but now we speak English as well, so we are going to communicate in English. But it’s more about the feeling, something very natural.

People need to learn to accept difference and be tolerant towards other cultures. We’ve all got something to learn. I believe that the dialects, the African dialects, have to be learned, because people know about the global languages like English and Spanish, and I think that interest in languages can break down the barriers, the linguistic barriers that exists and even make them accept their alter ego. We’re here for that, to let people know that language is universal. Let’s just feel each other, and in a way that we can hopefully build a better world.

People used to say ok. You’ve been colonized [by France in Senegal]. Yeah, we’ve been colonized, but so what? Now we speak more languages and communicate with a wide variety of people. We take it with the good side. Now it’s like a heavy weapon, not that we use to destroy, but to link up the people. Make them love the world itself. That’s why we call ourselves Daara J, the school of life. For us, its not only about Africa, or America or rap, it’s about a common conscience.

I heard you guys were heavily involved in getting out the vote last year for elections in Senegal.

Everybody was fed up with the old regime, and the rappers are reputed to be the voice of the voices. So we went out and said if you don’t vote, if you don’t take your destiny in hand and rule it, no one will do it for you. So we went on a campaign. You need to vote. We were not taking part with any parties, just getting out people to vote.

Islam is prevalent in Senegal and I know at least a few of you are pretty devout. How does that impact the music you make?

We are from a country where Christians marry Muslims and where people of all religions get together, so it makes no difference for us to be what we are. Religion is a personal thing. We don’t need to shout it, to say I’m this or I’m that. A human being is a human being. For me love is the only thing we need.

Any final thoughts before you guys get set to rock it?

All I know is those crazy people you see behind me, my guys, my friends, once they are on stage they are in a trance. We really feel the music and want to share it with people. You know, what we’ve learned from the music is that the music can lift up the soul and elevate it spiritually. So when we are on stage, we receive that much energy from the people, and it can lift us up to the point that we’re in a trance. It’s just the love we get from people. We transform it into a positive energy and give it back.

I also think it’s important that we link up to remind people of what hip-hop was in the beginning. You know, people talk about the old school. I think its good to talk about the old school, but it’s also important to talk about the ancient form.

You mean the ancient school?

Yeah. The ancient school!

*You can catch Daara J at GLOBALFEST, January 21 st and 22 nd at Joe's Pub in New York City.

Robert Nolan is online editor at the Foreign Policy Association and producer of the international affairs program Great Decisions, which airs on PBS stations nationwide.  He is a frequent contributor to Global Rhythm world music magazine and UN Wire, and resides in Long Island City, New York.

+seen.
mos def+talib kweli+pharoahe monch+jean grae+k'naan

the breed love odyssey tour
@ bb king. nyc

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Ain’t nothing like Hip Hop music. When its done right, its invincible. Talent, sincerity, progressiveness, a firm hand, the drum- its all in there. BB Kings in midtown Manhattan got a little taste when the 30 city Breed Love Odyssey tour came home to NYC to rest. Six, seven, eight years ago the artists on the bill would have letters like backpack, Rawkus, or Lyricist Lounge attached to their jackets like members of a college fraternity. But at the close of 2005, with the false divisions of underground and commercial hip hop fading in the rear view we can see clearly now. There are good artists. There are bad artists. Let me tell you about some good artists.

Somalian born K-Naan is a revelation. It is my first introduction to him and I am wondering where I’ve been, what rock I’ve been laying under. The self-anointed Dusty Foot Philosopher is what history books call a music man. He sings when he speaks, his every utterance is a song in itself. Efficiently, he keeps his musical accompaniment sparse so his personal melody never gets lost. I see a man carrying K-Naan’s sampler across the room, I run over and politely snatch it out of his hand. Thank you son, I’ll take that. Heh heh. I love come-ups.

It is easy to love Jean Grae. Now that I have seen her live, I know what a live MC should sound like, command the stage like, and carry herself like. She is all over the beat. A man tries to join the show, as enamored with Jean as the rest of us. Jean plays with him coyly, allows him his word and then bids him adieu as the bouncer carries him out the door. Brilliant. Jean Grae is the truth.

Pharoahe Monch has been my favorite Hip Hop artist since he uttered the rawest lyrics put to music.

She tried to spray my face with mace / She didn’t know that I enjoy the taste of radioactive waste /

Pharoahe is the Jason Kidd of Hip Hop. Jason Kidd in his prime. Triple Threat. Triple Double. Effortlessly running the floor, in total command of the situation, the rock like an appendage to his hand or an extension of his finger tips, every weapon aligned to his art in his arsenal. Grunt work, dimes, board work and clutch treys. Setting the table early and taking over at crunch time. Voice is all clear sound rumbling from tenor to baritone and stretched out over freak rhythm. His set is pure perfection cut too short.

Sweat pours from under Talib Kweli’s hat down the side of his face. His voice is hoarse and slightly strained. Despite his conservation of movement, he is the hardest working man in Hip Hop. No one is more live and direct than Talib. And fitting with his working man vibe, he is down with the Midwest. Hi-Tek steps out on stage and the temperature in the joint rises. Cin-City Hat. Cin-City Jacket. Nasty-Natty in the house (Cincinnati Ho!) and Reflection Eternal is eternal (at least for the night) once more. More Midwest flava follows, Slum Village rolls out like D + Run and rocks like them too. Perfectly coordinated, the shifts and cuts in their line-up have left them a dynamic duo. B-Boy survival rap. I love it.

Mos Def is self indulgent. Mos Def is maddeningly brilliant. Mos Def is the singular talent of his generation. Hands down. His set is alternately meandering and transcendent. The stage is too small to contain him so he disappears for moments in time- My restlessness is my nemesis- then returns with enough light and shine you forget that he had left. Sharp pointed talent pokes through thin cloth in a gazillion angles. I’m the shot clock way above the game. Universal Magnetic- Traveling Man- The Mighty Mos Def is here… and then he is gone.

Until the next time. Thank you Mos- And you K-Naan- And you Jean Grae- And you Pharoahe Monch- And you Talib Kweli- And you the cat handing out samplers in the club. Ain’t nothing like Hip Hop music.

Peg Entwistle Will Have Her Revenge on Hollywoodland
+story copyright 2005, Miles Marshall Lewis

She stood straphanging on an iron horse below city streets, listening to a digital transmission of jungle music downloaded days ago. A blues vocalist sang the same line of despair over and over, her voice diced up and dispersed within the electronic beats. Surrounded by lunch break commuters she tuned out the immediate multitude by meditating on the agitated trip-hop in her earpieces, fly-eyed black shades aiding in her disassociative sense deprivation. Head shaved within an inch of a distinctive whorl pattern, metal stud through her full lower lip. She clutched a black brief handle, her black woolen overcoat falling over a navy blue business suit so dark it, too, looked black. She stepped lively off the train, in time with the jungle, at the stop for Christmas Muse Productions.

Removing her earpieces she took time to savor the present moment. The clicking of her high heels on the pavement slowed. She thought: I’m less nervous than I expected. Today’s events could irrevocably alter the shape of my destiny for the foreseeable future. Yet I hardly feel anxious at all. She approached the ninety-story Christmas Muse Productions building and thought: I’m just not worried about this—not due to confidence, but, perhaps, ambivalence.

Three suited men stood behind a lengthy gray reception desk.

“Can I help you? You have an appointment?”

“I have a one o’clock meeting.” She made no motion to remove her shades.

“What department, miss?”

“Please phone Punch Isigny. My appointment is with Christmas Muse.”

The security receptionist glanced skeptically at the young woman, then raised a nearby clipboard at arm’s-length before his farsighted vision. The other two men began walking over, paying rapt attention. “Your name?”

“Rogess Fee.”

Her countenance remained stoic with authoritative undertones, unaffected by the man’s change in attitude. With a phone call she was given a triangular visitors sticker for her jacket and directed to walk through the metal detector entranceway. “Good luck,” offered the guard as she marched onto the elevator. She pressed the button for the forty-third floor. As the lift ascended she reached up for her shades and placed them in an inside pocket. Stepping off the elevator, Rogess was immediately greeted by a chipper, casually dressed brunette volunteering a firm handshake.

“Rogess, I’m Kelli! Good to meet you. Christmas will be with you shortly. Cold out there, isn’t it? Please, have a seat in reception. He’s meeting with Punch, he’ll be out in a minute.”

Rogess sat, adjusted her dark-as-black navy stockings, and recalled her father’s advice: Be yourself. With sarcasm, she thought: Yeah, that’ll get me the job. Smirking, she thought: So this is it. How anticlimactic. No sooner than she contemplated browsing magazines had a tone sounded from the phone on Kelli’s desk.

“Christmas is ready for you, Rogess. I’ll take you back to the office. I’d advise you keep your coat with you,” said Kelli, with a wink. Rogess was led into Christmas’s large, sunlit corner office; Kelli smiled (had never stopped smiling, actually) and shut the door behind her.

Christmas Muse leaned against his desk, almost sitting. His expressive brown eyes were wide with wonder and zealous spirit, assessing Rogess and drawing her in immediately. His hair was slightly longer on top than Rogess’s buzz cut, bald at the sides. He had a boyish look about him, despite the neat mustache topping off his upper lip. The busy design of his Glen plaid suit somehow lent levity to the aristocratic air about him, yet he still held the commanding presence of a man of ability, an American pioneer, twice his age. He was thirty-three.

“Christmas Muse—pleasure to meet you.”

“Good to meet you,” Rogess replied. The two shook hands. She felt an unfamiliar sense of being slightly off balance. Already Christmas was not what she expected.

“I’ve gone over everything with my main financier and the board. All your budget requests, your terms, and the prospectus I requested from you last month. First, let me say that your student film, Atlas Shrugged, was amazing. There’s a lot of excitement about you in Hollywood, and you deserve it.” Rogess missed the beat where an ingratiating “thank you” was expected. Christmas turned to his desk, lifted a sheaf of papers clamped together by two black brad clips, and held it out to her.

“You’ve got the job. Congratulations.”

Rogess discerned a brilliant intellect from the virtue of his bright smile. Again, a strange feeling of vertigo struck her gut. A heartbeat passed, and she righted herself for a second time. Her brow furrowed as she grasped the contract in her lithe fingers.

“Thank you, Mr. Muse. But I’m not sure you… That is, my addendum of—”

“Please, call me Christmas.” At this, Rogess noticed the acceleration of her heart rate.

“Christmas. This is a gracious offer, but—”

“You have your full ninety-million dollar budget, and as to the addendum of unreasonable demands I asked you to include: you’ve been granted them all. Let your lawyer look over the terms, but your pre-production is set to start right away. I’ve got a few demands of my own, though.”

Kelli spoke through the speakerphone on the desk: “Christmas, the car is downstairs.”

“Demands?” Rogess asked.

“We’ve got a car waiting. But I don’t mean to cut this short. We need to speak further in transit.” Christmas held the door ajar. Rogess had never even put her brief down, clutching the handle all during their two-minute meeting. She slipped her contract into its pocket and exited the office walking briskly down the hall alongside the young company president.

“Have you eaten?”

“No, actually. Not since breakfast.”

Fishing in the inside pocket of his blazer, Christmas pulled out an envelope and handed it to Rogess. “This is for you.” She looked it over, slit the top with a fingernail. Inside laid a Centurion American Express card, her name printed on the face. “You’ll need to call and activate it later.”

Their swift pace finally halted as they stood waiting for an elevator to climb forty-three stories. “You mentioned demands. I assume you acquiesced to my final cut approval, my complete autonomy, my Prime Mover Productions setup. To what were you referring?” The elevator arrived, empty. They began their descent.

“I need a soundboard, Rogess. Desperately. I have full faith in your ability as a filmmaker, have no doubt. But more than anything, I want you on my team because of who you are. I’m aware of your background as a philosophy major in undergrad, and the reputation of your parents in the field.

“To be frank, the public has a certain conception of me because I produce animated movies. And I show the media a certain face, on purpose. It fits my agenda to do so. But when I talk about demands, what I need from you is for you to be yourself. And to talk to me. You’re a young black woman. You grew up in Hollywood, like I did. I’m not looking for a protégé or anything. I’m just really feeling the need to be challenged right now, and from what I know of your personality and the direction you’re headed in, your dedication to cinema, the whole premise of your thesis film, you fit the bill. You’re perfect.

“I’m in a position currently where I’m not afraid to fail. There are already rumors printed in Variety about the foolishness of what I’m planning, doing this live-action movie. Rumors I helped plant. With you, I feel assured of at least putting out a movie of integrity, of over-the-top quality. The dedication you have to moviemaking is clear. All I need extra from you is to build with me occasionally. Don’t be afraid to offend me. You can’t be fired; it’s in your contract. I just need your total honesty.”

“I…see.” The lift had lowered directly to the lobby without interruption. The doors opened.

She walked alongside him once again, struggling to keep her mind from swimming, to remain in the moment. Christmas Muse was apparently somewhat eccentric, driven to loneliness and isolation by the unique burdens of the wunderkind, or something to that effect, she thought. Yet her instincts told her otherwise. She had no way of knowing how far this simpatico psychotherapy he suggested would stretch. But it seemed a low price to pay for the means to realize her lifelong ambition. They pushed through the building’s large revolving doors one by one; he stepped to the curb and opened the back door of an awaiting burgundy Bentley. She entered, and the chauffeur coasted off.

“Christmas, to be honest with you, I’m not the most trusting sort. I’m not sure if I can be what it is you’re looking for. I just want to make movies. I showed up prepared for an interview, I believe my work speaks for itself, and—”

“This is the interview, just without the pressure. You know the job is yours.”

“I never felt pressured, actually.” Christmas directed the driver to take a winding route through Central Park.

“An interview. Okay, that’s fair. But based on what I said earlier, I’d like you to interview me too, if you don’t mind. Our business relationship is a big leap of faith for the both of us. All I’m shooting for is that we get to know each other.

“Who’s your favorite filmmaker, Rogess?”

“Well, there’s a difference between ‘favorite’ and ‘best.’ You’re asking for my favorite filmmaker: I’d have to say Woody Allen.”

“Okay, Woody Allen was great. His work had a consistency in it worthy of European master directors like François Truffaut, Jean-Luc Godard, or Ingmar Bergman. Annie Hall, Manhattan, Stardust Memories: Great films. His latter period work as well: Husbands and Wives, Celebrity, Match Point. The themes of his work included the major themes of great literature, many of the major themes of life: Death. Love. Sex. The constant use of performance anxiety, prostitutes, and magic in his movies is interesting. He showed no fear releasing black-and-white films, which, visually, is very beautiful just as a film stock.”

“You know what I like about Woody Allen?”

“What’s that?”

“He produced. Woody Allen directed a film for practically every year of his entire life, once he began making movies. Filmmaking was his love, he was a great talent, and he produced. The Academy Awards gave him Oscars for Best Picture and Best Director back in 1978, and he didn’t even show up. Do you know where he was?”

He smiled. That smile again, she thought. “Woody was playing clarinet at Michael’s Pub, like he did every Monday night,” said Christmas. “He didn’t wanna miss it.”

Rogess laughed. “Right. And the Academy never gave him awards of that stature again, until the Thalberg Memorial Award right before he died. His films were so appreciated by every other country but his own. And the hypocrisy of the whole thing is: now the country holds out his body of work as one of our national treasures. But where was that appreciation when he was alive?”

“I know. They did the same thing to Spike Lee throughout his whole career. They’re announcing the nominations on Wednesday, you know. What do you think of animated film?” he asked.

“Frankly, I don’t have any interest in cartoon movies. I viewed all your productions for our interview, but I have no personal… They don’t engage me at all.” She was distracted. Dare she ask? Evading her true question—she thought: too much, too soon—she said, “Tell me what it was like to be considered a child prodigy.”

He fixed her with a purposeful stare, mirth flaring in his determined brown eyes. “I was spoiled in a very strange way as a child, because everybody told me from the moment I was able to hear that I was absolutely marvelous. I never heard a discouraging word for years.” He laughed. “The image has been of some benefit but I don’t take too much stock in it. The whole mystique in this society for child prodigies and young genius, it helped my career in the very beginning. Sometimes that stuff can backfire, with Orson Welles, for example. Don’t believe the hype, you know?” The car exited the park at Fifty-ninth Street. “When did you know you wanted to make movies? Was there one in particular that clinched it for you?”

Rogess Fee was nine when she decided that she would become a filmmaker. It was at nine years of age that her parents, driving home past the Hollywood sign, told the young film buff the story of Peg Entwistle.

At the turn of the twentieth century, Deida Wilcox and her husband divided their southern California ranch into parcels. In 1903, a village was incorporated under the ranch’s name: Hollywood. The Hollywood sign, however, was not their doing. Reading HOLLYWOODLAND , it was built to advertise a real estate development.

Peg Entwistle was born Lillian Millicent Entwistle in London, 1908. A very young and successful Broadway actress, she moved to Hollywood during the Great Depression. She received several walk-ons, then a small part as Hazel Cousins in Thirteen Women, a role that was almost completely cut in its final edit. The film received poor reviews, and she was fired from RKO Studios. In 1932 a despondent Entwistle climbed to the top of the HOLLYWOODLAND sign and jumped from the forty-foot high H, killing herself. Ironically, soon afterward her uncle received a letter intended for her: an invitation to star in a Hollywood play in the role of a woman who commits suicide. Thirteen years later the last four letters were torn down in commemoration and the sign forevermore read: HOLLYWOOD .

The story worked on Rogess’s young conscience. At the time she thought she might follow in the path of her parents. Raja and Katherine Fee met at the University of San Francisco, working towards master’s degrees in philosophy, and married upon graduation. When Rogess was a girl, Raja taught as a tenured professor at the University of Berkley; Katherine was the author of several books in the field of philosophy. Rogess’s mind reverberated with the story of Peg Entwistle that afternoon and night, twirling it around at different angles. She thought: How incredulous that the opinions of others could drive this woman to end her own life. I would never allow that to happen. She thought: I refuse to be afraid of failing in Hollywood. I could…tame Hollywood. An assured smirk crossed her young lips. One month later the Fees—encouraging and supporting of Rogess choosing her own path—supplied their daughter with a vintage Sony DCR-VX2000 digital camera.

Rogess rounded out the story of Peg Entwistle and her own tale as the Bentley paused at the curb of Central Park West. When the door at her right opened suddenly, she was hardly startled. Her mind often thought in terms of long, cinematic tracking shots and was quickly acclimated to the nonstop pace of Christmas Muse.

“Rogess: meet Punch Isigny.”

The man in the door possessed matinee-idol blue eyes. His body swathed in layers of sheepskin coat and gloves, scarves, and a colorfully striped wool cap, Rogess could only assess Punch Isigny’s eyes.

“I’m Punch, pleasure to meet you,” filtered through the muffle of a broad strip of wool.

“Listen, I’ve got to be going. I have another meeting crosstown. Punch is taking you to meet the transition team for your production. We should speak again soon.”

“Tonight,” said Rogess. The two exchanged a glance pregnant with déjà vu or a sense of recognition.

“Tonight I have some things to do. We can roll together. Ten o’clock.” He waved, shut the door, exited away in haste. Rogess stood with Punch in the front of Trump Tower.

“They’re waiting for us inside, Rogess.” Punch led the way to the skyscraper’s gold entranceway, rubbing his mittened hands together. Despite the cold, the sun beamed bright. Rogess reached in her inside pocket, grasped her shades and placed them on.

Miles Marshall Lewis is the Bronx-born author of Scars of theSoul Are Why Kids Wear Bandages When They Don't Have Bruises, an essay collection on the essence and decline of hip-hop. There's a Riot Goin' On, his exegesis on the masterpiece Sly and the Family Stone album of the same name, is due from Continuum Books in April 2006. Lewis lives in Paris, France.

Ben Austen: You’ve had a good deal of success abroad. How is your work received in South Africa?

Zakes Mda: If you have to choose between buying a loaf of bread or a book, the loaf of bread will win hands down. The so-called grassroots people—they don’t read my work. We have a growing middle class of black people in Africa that can afford to buy books. Women are the readers, black and white. I meet people at supermarkets who will comment on my work. More than that, I am invited to book clubs. The book club, this new phenomenon--many people credit Oprah Winfrey with that. Her show is televised there, she visits every month. She has fallen in love with South Africa: she has projects with women there. I have been invited to books cubs in the most remote villages, ordinary day-to-day women—house wives, school teachers, nurses---in a village have come together and they read a book. The most read is Toni Morrison’s Beloved. This is Oprah Winfrey. And they meet once a week to discuss the novel, and they invite writers to come when they discuss their work. You find all that is there are women. Even in Johannesburg, Durban, Cape Town you get mixed race book clubs, but even there it is women. In some instance you find men, but they have brought their girl friends or wives and then they go outside to gossip while the women are discussing literature in the house. I have to turn down invitations from book clubs. A whole gang of women there talking about your book. A very, very active book club movement and it cuts across classes. Village women reading books in their own languages—Sotho and so on. They’re reading my plays in their own language. And the same month one of my books has been published it has been prescribed in a course. The Whale Caller is prescribed for a course at the Western Cape. This is amazing, man.

BA: What do you make of the government’s criticism of J.M. Coetzee’s novel Disgrace on political grounds?

MDA: It is true that Disgrace was criticized by the ANC on very foolish grounds. When they were giving evidence before the HRC of racism in the media, one of the examples was Disgrace. Coetzee wrote that book for the public and part of the public is the ANC. And they have a right to have a critical view. No body ever talked of banning, they merely said this book is racist. They have a right to say it. That book now is prescribed in school. It was chosen as one of the ten best books of the decade of democracy. Only two novels on the list. Also, my novel, Madonna of Excelsior. A government institution chose this book. We live in a democratic country.

BA: What are some of your favorite novels?

MDA: I can tell you who are my favorite writers. A Xhosa novel by The AC Jordan Of Ancestors. The first novel I ever read by the father of a minister in Mandela’s government. Thomas Mfula in SiSotho. I have read British author TK. Wole Soyinke, Chinua Achebe. Those are the guys I used to read a lot. I observed in my novels a great influence from Sotho and Xhosa writing. The expression, the voice, I expect comes from them. The collective narrator comes from the oral tradition, the way people talk. The communal voice.

BA: A great many those who were writing during apartheid later became politicians. Is this a good thing for writing? For the government?

MDA: Politicians are very filthy. Other writers in South Africa became politicians. A lot of the women. Poets of high caliber. Wally Serote, South Africa’s ambassador in England is also a poet. When they were in the liberation struggle they were very active as poets. I can see them some times longing to be writers. I’ve seen that it’s very easy to be corrupted by power. I think I can easily be corrupted. That’s one fear. I am very happy to be outside and be critical, because I know that power can corrupt. I’ve seen good people fall and become very, very rotten. If these good people can become rotten, then I can become rotten too. Heroes of the liberation struggle that become very, very bad. That’s why I’d rather be a critic. The thought of being a politician is very harrowing.

BA: What was your experience of voting during the first all-race elections in 1994?

MDA: I voted in Canada, in Montreal, at the Ukrainian center there in 1994. It was the nearest voting station for me because I was teaching at the University of Vermont. I voted for the first time in my life. Soon after I returned to South Africa. There was euphoria. Then after some time there was depression, and deeper polarization. Now things are looking up. The economy and people are beginning to accept that things can change.

BA: You are very critical of the ANC in your work? Do you see an alternative to them?

MDA: Just on three issues I would vote for the government: pro-choice, death penalty, and gay rights. If they took issue of death penalty to the people, they would lose on that referendum. Sexual orientation is also an unpopular policy. But we can not move from that great oppression and be the oppressors of others. You need a strong opposition to the left of the ANC and to the right of the ANC. The ANC is Thatcherite. When you look at their policies, it looks like Reagonomics. You need a party to the left of that. The ANC manages to be strong because the opposition is hopeless.

The opposition will come from the ANC. The trade-unionists and the communists still toe the ANC line, and they become ministers, but sooner or later there will be leaders who can’t be bought anymore. There will be a new left party, which will be a strong opposition party to the ANC in three or four years. Afrikaaner farmers are joining the ANC, especially in the northwest province. They are campaigning for the ANC. I’m quite excited with developments in the country. I’m quite happy that the ANC came together with the National Party. My hope for South Africa, as far as white people are concerned, lies with the Afrikaaner. They have a greater commitment. They have no other home. The English have always looked to England; they have always seen themselves as a colonial outpost. They still have that mentality. The Afrikaaners didn’t become Dutch; they are the first people to call themselves African. The Afrikaaners did many dirty things to us, but we need to face the facts now: we are compatriots. They belong there; they can’t go to Holland or France or anywhere. They became a new tribe all together. A new culture. They are like the tri-racial isolates in Ohio. I’m excited to see Afrikaaners shedding those old racist views. They are working together. They are still there. We are human beings we can actually work together. We can create a new society.

Benjamin Austen is an associate editor of Harper's Magazine. His essay, The Pen or the Gun on the fiction of Zakes Mda, appeared in the February 2005 issue of Harper's.

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