Throughout her career, M.I.A. has always been ahead of the curve—and the curve wasn’t always ready for her.
When she released MAYA eight years ago, it was heavily criticized for its YouTube-inspired album art and the digital chaos that created the musical landscape. Little did we realize how prescient it actually was. At the time, “the iPhone’s connected to the Google, connected to the government” felt like edgelord tinhattery. On the other side of several congressional hearings and high-profile leaks relevant to those claims, it feels practically prophetic.
Most of the criticism over the album lamented the abandonment of the world music influences that brought her so much attention. And there’s something to that—this is decidedly not Kala part 2. MAYA is almost entirely an electronic hip hop record. If there are any Indian instruments, they’re hidden in layers of buzzing synthesizer and clanging drum machines.
For a bit, it might seem like M.I.A. has finally decided to just make pop music. “XXXO” could pass for a generic Top 40 track if it weren’t for the music video. But looking at the lyrics, it’s pretty obvious that she’s using a generic pop sound to criticize generic pop music. Not to mention that too many pop records would have the aural anarchy of “Teqkilla” or the violent, anthemic “Born Free,” which was accompanied by one of the most disturbingly poignant and graphic music videos ever.
Most of the record veers toward this maximalist, abrasive chaos, but there are some tender moments too. “It Takes a Muscle” is a catchy reggae track. “Tell Me Why” is a head-bopping, poppy victory march that mourns the ills of the world. “Space” is a gentle pop song beset by menacing bass synth bursts.
There’s no denying that the record is scattered and uneven. And while it doesn’t deliver much of what drew people to M.I.A. in the first place, it doesn’t sound like anyone else. But let’s be honest—the blend of traditional Sri Lankan folk music, hip hop, and punk rock could never happen without the internet giving a megaphone to those voices. And MAYA feels like the internet. It’s a commentary on the distracting/distractable, disconnected, digital landscape that has been created in the widespread adoption of social media, streaming media, and instant communication. So while this record may not have been appreciated when it was released, it forecast much of the shifts pop music would take—for good or ill, considering that we probably wouldn’t have The Life of Pablo without this record.