Sunday
Apr102011
Behind the Music - Take Back the Mic
Sunday, April 10, 2011 at 1:15PM 
Song by song, story by story, this record is a journey. DNA took some time to lay out the process of creating these tunes. Here you can get at the thought and creative process that we went through on our quest to Take back the Mic.
Scroll down to read them all or pick a favorite from the list:
Damoshi | Do Right | Johhny's Song | To Be Free | Just Me | Funkadocious | Once | Beans n Rice | Sweet Mother 3mix | From The Soul | Fight On
This is a song I wrote after spending a number of summers back home in Accra, Ghana hanging out with friends and family, learning and becoming a part of the Hiplife scene, and trying to understand the impact of Hip Hop on people like me on both sides of the Atlantic. "Damoshi" means "stand up" in "Ga" my dad's language. I wrote the song in January '05 at Reggie Rockstone's studio in Laboni. I had just finished recording some freestyles w/ his producer M.A., and with the help of my brothers Quao & Abeka, managed to flip between the languages without causing traffic accidents in the process. I came back and recorded the flow in Jerz over a monstrous, aggressive beat Saj had made. Then we invited Nadirah X to lay down some Jamaican style MC-in at Dave Stewart's studio in LA & Eroc from Foundation Movement to come bless the mic with the ill Boricua flow. Saj and I went back to the lab and tweaked the track again and again to give each MC a unique platform for expressing their lyrical & stylistic message. In the end we came up with the opening track to the record - a call to all our peeps to "Stand Up" and rep what's really real in our communities. It is an homage to Hip Hop across the African Diaspora.
This is one I actually wrote the music for while studying in Brazil a few years back. Somehow, sitting in my little room at the Laranjeiras youth hostel in Pelourinho (Salvador Bahia), across the street from the HQ of the world-renowned carnival samba band Olodum, I was moved to write a Funk/Rock tune (go figure). I returned to the US and somehow had this concept of "do right" stuck in my head. Now I figured I could either write a love song about some girl who really oughta' act better, or I could create a thinly veiled paean (www.m-w.com ...ahem) to the independent spirit - the one with a will bold enough to take our leaders to task for trying to pull the wool over our collective eyes (the punks). Hmm...which angle would better fit my congenial and patently non-confrontational, conformist personality? Thus was born a rockin', rollin', tongue-in-cheek jam for all my revolutionaries who like to ROCK! There are references to the 2000 election fiasco, state oppression and at least one Fela Kuti quote (can you find it?). This joint is with the whole damn band and features the mighty Jeff Lockhart on lead guitar. FREEDOM FOREVER.
I'd have to say this is one of the songs I'm proudest of. The sonic genesis of the tune began in Cambridge many years ago, but came to life in Brazil as I found myself getting a personal lesson on the plight of street children. While there I also learned of a time in the 90s when off-duty officers in Rio would go into the favelas (ghettos) and murder children they found lying in the streets. I kept thinking about how an innocent boy born of the hood is gradually transformed into a man with no options, who becomes the personification of society's greatest fears. While in Brazil I wrote the verses that Kelley sings. 5 or 6 months after returning home to the US, there was a news report about a kid in NY who was shot dead by police while playing with a friend on the roof of his building. This is after Abner Louima & Amadou Diallo and God knows how many others that never get talked about in the media. And I couldn't help but think "are our lives worth anything in the eyes of society?" So I sat down and wrote the rhyme sections to give the back story of little "Johnny." Part of the second flow is in Portuguese in recognition of what I saw in Salvador. The song follows multiple thematic, linguistic and musical trajectories to weave together a story of innocence, pain, anger and questioning. The entire piece is a layering of metaphors. If you really listen to it, it will reveal many meanings.
I wrote this song on an airplane. It had begun years earlier with a sweet guitar lick and a bass line bouncing around my head. The two did not know each other, and were conceived from very different sources: one based on a non-existent line in a phenomenal Afro-hip-pop ballad (a line I always thought they should have played), and the other from listening to some of my favourite dancehall artists paying homage to their Roots Reggae forefathers. Then one day while walking around twisting and turning tunes on my tongue, somehow these two melodic lines met in rhythmic counterpoint and knew they were meant for each other. You can most clearly hear this original discovery in the opening bars. I taught the hook to the band during a sound check at our first show in Seattle and started improvising with the vocalists. Somehow it was like the whole band lit up, and when we stopped all the crew were just standing around smiling...at that point I figured this one might have a lil' somethin' special in it. On one of my many trips a few months later I sat in the airplane singing softly to myself and asked a question that I think every person can only truly answer for herself. The question has two subtly different interpretations linguistically, and so musically we explore a slight change in expression late in the song to indicate that second meaning. The question is simple: "What would you give to be free?"
This song was written by Kelley, so I'm going to let her explain the meaning and I will get into what went down with the music.
KELLEY: I always have a million concepts in my head at any given time, and there are special moments when one of those concepts blossoms into a lyrical idea. "Just Me" began when I first embarked on the adventure of trying to sing professionally just out of college. I went to New York City (while living at home for free in NJ, thanks Mom ;) and did everything I could - worked with any producer I met, auditioned for managers that in-turn sent me on auditions to be a booty girl in music videos, interned at a record label, sang hooks for MCs - pretty much anything I could get my hands on. But something was missing. No one I worked with really took the time to understand me, probably the most important first step in creating a sound with someone. Everyone took their turn trying to define me and put me in a box of what they believed I should be. "You're kinda like Ashanti right? Here's a track you should sing the hook on." "Oh Kelley, you're like the next Whitney Houston!" "You should make a huge dance video like Beyonce." I heard it all, and none of it quite reflected the unique person that I am. So "Just Me" was born as a response, and if you listen to the third verse, you'll hear that I take the most responsibility for making sure the world understands just who I am.
DNA: So when the rest of us got a hold of the music, we wanted to help convey the idea of Kelley both as she sees herself and also as "we" see her...sweet, spunky and a closet funk-junky with a unique vibe all her own. So we started with some basic folksy chords on the acoustic, added in that old-school Highlife guitar and percussion, and let the groove evolve over the course of the tune to show that there's more to "Me" than what you think you see.
This is a banger. Jon had been trying to get Stix to do some production for the record, given that he is a Hip Hop genius and had already played with the likes of De La Soul, Dougie Fresh & Rahzel while the rest of us were still handing in our homework late. Stix had just begun working on his second album and sent me and Jon a few tracks to choose from. The first two were dope, mellow jazz joints, but the third one was just FUNKY, in-your-face in a kind of smart-mouth sort of way. We decided we would do a bug-out track that could take us outside all the heavy ish we'd been thinking about what's happening in the world around us. Stix wanted to call it "Funkadocious" which is the tagline for the band, so Jon took the hook he wrote, sang it with an irreverent lilt and we both proceeded to talk some of that good bullwhip in the verses. I played the track for Kelley, spit my verse live and she loved it. Next thing I know she says she wanna' rap too. I called Jon, like "yo Kelley is buggin, we can't be havin' her rap on these trax! Hip Hop is for MC's, NOT cute R&B girls." Needless to say, we swiftly lost that argument. And lo & behold Kelley comes out and shows Teaneck got mo' flava' than we thought! The funny thing is, when the so-called bug-out track was done, we all listened to it and were like..."damn...this joint is kinda' hot." The lesson? Never sleep on your own skills my people...never. lol
This is probably the most personal song I've written. Every last lyric was wrought from the depths of me. Once upon a time I almost married a woman who at the time was the greatest love I'd ever known. We'd had many ups & downs over many years of long-distance communion. When we reached the point of actually picking an engagement ring together, things began to quietly unravel. Beneath our hopeful smiles she didn't realize just how much she meant to me...and I didn't realize she had fallen in love with someone else. Days later I left the country on an extended trip anticipating returning to propose to my true love. And when I returned, she asked me not to call, email or otherwise seek to contact her anymore. There is much back story here and from the age of 18 when we first met, we both made many mistakes that contributed to her insecurity about "us." But I never believed anything could quite justify the way the break went down.
Given that I'm an artist and not a stalker, I let it and her go. But I was forced to do so with no opportunity to express to her the pain and sense of betrayal I felt. After years of love and sharing, she had tearfully asked me to simply go away. And I was so shocked for once I did not know what to say. I wrote the chorus of this song in Ghana a month before it all hit the fan, when I still had hope but knew something was terribly wrong. It would be 12 long and tearful months before I had the heart to finish the song. Because of my upbringing I was ashamed that I should cry at all, much less over a girl. One day a year later I woke up, wrote the verses and the rhyme, recorded it on my MiniDisc player and played it over and over and over again on an extended drive between speeches in Wisconsin. I cried freely for an hour straight. I've never shed a tear over her since. Years later we would finally speak, beg one another's forgiveness and make a final peace. They say music sooths the savage beast. Sometimes it saves the wounded one too.
This is truly a song born of a beat. Saj and I were hangin' at the lab in Brooklyn a couple of years ago and he was like "yo, check this out son." The track he played had to be one of the illest and most creative my ears had ever been blessed to hear. It was electronic, acoustic and organic all at the same time, with complex, layered, FUNKY polyrhythms! Every instrument was a part of the percussive ensemble and it crazily reminded me of music back home, while having a very distinctive feel. I put the track on a CD and took it with me on my next trip home to Accra. I went straight to Reggie, who started the whole Hiplife movement (Hip Hop meets W. African "Highlife"), and is still one of our most respected & revered MCs. We hit the studio the next day and he flipped a classic verse in Twi (the language of the Akan people). I brought it back to the crib in Jamaica Plain days later, but kept delaying playing it for Saj. I wanted to give the whole thing a unified vision that embraced the linguistic and rhythmic diversity of the tune. I came up with the juxtaposition of Beans & Rice, a staple food across much of the African Diaspora, with the idea of Beats & Rhymes, the basic building blocks of Hip Hop music. Each line in the chorus would reference a style of music that contributed to the evolution of Hip Hop.
Then my Digi 002 recorder broke down, after I'd laid down like one track of the chorus. I was still heavily on the road and couldn't get the durn thing fixed. It would be another year before I had finally moved to LA, settled down a bit and got some new gear. I recorded KJ on the choruses, flew out to NY and on the train to Saj's new place in Jerz I wrote my verse. We laid it down, I broke out, Jon linked w/ Saj in NJ to put down his piece, but then we couldn't find the source files from his old laptop, which he'd replaced during the eons it had taken me to finish up. Finally we were able to mirror the old drive, pull down most of the files we needed and mix something we loved! Thus after 2.5 years, 5 cities, and a gang of equipment replacements an ode to Hip Hop was born.
Man, this one was a trip...literally. The song "Sweet Mother" is one of my all time favorites, and in the summer of 2003 I went home to Ghana and recorded a remake of it with Panji Anoff, one of the pioneering producers in Hiplife. I brought the track back to school and sent an mp3 to my boy Wayne & Wax, fellow MC, producer and illmatic ethnomusicologist. Wayne had been doing some ill ish down in Jamaica and quickly deciphered the trans-Atlantic fusion we'd been putting down. I go to his house a few weeks later and he's like "check this out." He then proceeds to play me a wicked beat that sounded crazy familiar. Turns out money had taken my mp3 file and built a whole new track around it. It was so ill we decided to re-record a whole new arrangement on top of it, giving birth to the "Sweet Remix," our first single to grab international attention. At the same time that Sweet Remix was charting overseas, I met Wayne's boy Marvin Hall from Kingston and we became brothers in Revolution. On a trip down to JA Marvin introduced me to his cousin Sajato "Jahtoworks" Jarrett, producer extraordinaire, who would become my musical co-conspirator and another brother in art. Through Marvin's connex and persistence, we got dancehall legend Bounty Killer to agree to bless the track. I took a "leave of absence" from grad school (never to return as it turns out...) and spent the next 3 months going back and forth to Kingston. Meanwhile, Saj took the source files from our original Sweet Mother remake, chopped them up and threw in an 808 and some extra magic. Jon and I took the concept of "mother" expanded it to "Mother Afrika" and Kelley and Maleka put down the sweet harmonies in the middle. By the time Bounty dropped his verse the "Sweet 3Mix" had passed through the hands of 4 producers in 3 countries and was a seamless integration of live & electronic instruments, old vibes & new spirit. An "Afropolitan " jam through & through.
This song is a personal statement. Saj sent me the track a little while back and I had mixed feelings about it. It had this incredibly groovy, electronic intro that made me think of an upbeat tune, but then it had these dark strings and an eery flute in the chorus. I told him I thought the track would be better "lighter" and he was like no, he wanted to keep it gangtsta'. Ok, fine I thought I will work on another track. I left it alone for months. Then I started playing it again and again along with the track for "Fight On." Just the two tracks, again and again for weeks and somehow I heard it with new ears. At the time I had been given a fellowship to attend the TED Global conference in Arusha, Tanzania and I was thinking so much about what is happening on the continent. Corrupt governments, flawed international "aid" programs and a never-ending litany of negative media attention. And yet whenever I go home, I see so much more than the painful stories constantly sold us in a misguided effort to "help" people who need only the opportunity to help themselves.
At the same time I was feeling a persistent and personal anguish at the stupidity that has come to define what we call "Hip Hop" today. I was and am still sick of seeing Black people degraded in the media in the interests of some few folks getting paid. And then some idiot will turn around and tell you to chill out, it's just music. I don't think so. First, on most days I would much rather bring the fire than chill out. Second, for me there's no such thing as "just music." Music was once the mechanism for transmitting the most profound elements of culture for societies across the globe. It remains the most powerful art form known to human kind - the only one that can touch you even when while you pay it no mind. Black people once used music to articulate their unassailable humanity in the face of every indignity visited upon them. Today we dance a standard jig for $$s all the while claiming to represent some twisted notion of "authenticity" bought and baked for us by record label executives who could give a damn about the struggle to survive in a world that can't see you. It's as if Hip Hop has sold it's soul for a promise.
Saj wanted to keep the track gangsta and so we did. I wrote and arranged the tune, flew to the East Coast, laid it down late on a Friday night and flew to Arusha that Saturday. This song is a call to arms for all those who see themselves as more than thugs and hoes, more than victims and charity cases. It is a statement of defiance from an African child who needs neither a TV special nor some weak MC to tell me what I am made of. There comes a time when we must expect more from ourselves and each other. For when you come upon someone with the courage to speak, sing, live, rhyme "From The Soul," you will know without a shred of doubt what is truly "real."
I wrote this song the same day I wrote "From The Soul." I'd first heard the track for "Fight On" a year before while Jahto and I were driving through Manhattan heading for the Holland tunnel to hit the studio in Jerz. The music immediately struck me and I had a sense that it could be a platform for writing something really beautiful. At first I thought it might be a love song. But that vibe didn't quite click in my mind. I knew that I wanted to hear Kelley's voice in the hook, and that the verse could work beautifully in Jonathan's vocal register. But what would the song be about? I didn't have a good idea, so I just let it sit for close to a year.
By the Spring of '07 I was playing the track daily. At this point as I mentioned previously I was preparing to attend the TED Global Conference in Arusha. I was thinking a lot about the situation back home in Ghana and across the African continent in general and had engaged in some fierce debates about the portrayal of the continent in films like Blood Diamond and in a special report CNN had done on the conflicts in Darfur and the Eastern Congo. And I felt like none of these presented what I believe to be an honest and balanced
portrayal of the challenges facing the people of these nations. Time and time again we hear the worst of what people go through. But when it comes to Africa we do not hear the stories of hope, of perseverance, of triumph. In fact, we barely hear about these people at all...unless and until they are dying. And I thought to myself, "why?" Why do "they" not matter until they are no longer with us? And worst yet, until a whole LOT of them are no longer with us?
And so: "I wrote a song for all the people, who fight on, in a world that doesn't see them..." I did so because "they" are a part of "me."
The day before I sat down to write these lyrics I had done a conference call about a youth group doing conflict resolution work with kids in Israel & Palestine. As is so often the case I perceived how much the issues facing real people in Africa, were plaguing others around the world. There were some particularly brave young women working on that project, the extent of whose courage I would only come to glimpse much later. It was not long after Mothers Day and somehow I thought of Kelley and some of the challenges she had encountered as a young woman trying to do what we do. I thought of my mom and my sister and my Auntie Mama and Auntie Renée and of my grandma Mmaa and my sweet departed granny Mafio. The latter two in particular had been such a profound influence on the writing of "Sweet Remix" along with their daughter who grew up to become my own Sweet Mama.
And I realized that as best I can see, there is no struggle in the world, however great or small, in which women (and their children) are not the most greatly victimized...and in turn, so often they prove the most courageous in their willingness to choose life, every day, against all odds.
I won't claim to be a feminist - I haven't the knowledge, nor commitment and I hate labels in general. But as the song stirred within me I felt I wanted to contribute to the upliftment of the women in my life and those I've never known, not because I was best qualified to do so, but because it was the right thing to do. In the
end when I finally sat down to write the words to this song I simply wanted to pay homage to those who "fight on" in the ways we don't see - without weapons, without armies, without braun, bluster or bravado, but with sheer will, determination and a "love that passes all understanding."
This is a song for the unsung. They may not make monuments unto you. But we whom you have carried upon your backs, salute you. It is a beginning.
By the Spring of '07 I was playing the track daily. At this point as I mentioned previously I was preparing to attend the TED Global Conference in Arusha. I was thinking a lot about the situation back home in Ghana and across the African continent in general and had engaged in some fierce debates about the portrayal of the continent in films like Blood Diamond and in a special report CNN had done on the conflicts in Darfur and the Eastern Congo. And I felt like none of these presented what I believe to be an honest and balanced
portrayal of the challenges facing the people of these nations. Time and time again we hear the worst of what people go through. But when it comes to Africa we do not hear the stories of hope, of perseverance, of triumph. In fact, we barely hear about these people at all...unless and until they are dying. And I thought to myself, "why?" Why do "they" not matter until they are no longer with us? And worst yet, until a whole LOT of them are no longer with us?
And so: "I wrote a song for all the people, who fight on, in a world that doesn't see them..." I did so because "they" are a part of "me."
The day before I sat down to write these lyrics I had done a conference call about a youth group doing conflict resolution work with kids in Israel & Palestine. As is so often the case I perceived how much the issues facing real people in Africa, were plaguing others around the world. There were some particularly brave young women working on that project, the extent of whose courage I would only come to glimpse much later. It was not long after Mothers Day and somehow I thought of Kelley and some of the challenges she had encountered as a young woman trying to do what we do. I thought of my mom and my sister and my Auntie Mama and Auntie Renée and of my grandma Mmaa and my sweet departed granny Mafio. The latter two in particular had been such a profound influence on the writing of "Sweet Remix" along with their daughter who grew up to become my own Sweet Mama.
And I realized that as best I can see, there is no struggle in the world, however great or small, in which women (and their children) are not the most greatly victimized...and in turn, so often they prove the most courageous in their willingness to choose life, every day, against all odds.
I won't claim to be a feminist - I haven't the knowledge, nor commitment and I hate labels in general. But as the song stirred within me I felt I wanted to contribute to the upliftment of the women in my life and those I've never known, not because I was best qualified to do so, but because it was the right thing to do. In the
end when I finally sat down to write the words to this song I simply wanted to pay homage to those who "fight on" in the ways we don't see - without weapons, without armies, without braun, bluster or bravado, but with sheer will, determination and a "love that passes all understanding."
This is a song for the unsung. They may not make monuments unto you. But we whom you have carried upon your backs, salute you. It is a beginning.
Reader Comments