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. Continue reading
How do you follow up a breakout hit that managed to mix political protest with dancefloor-ready art pop?
If you’re M.I.A., you turn up the dial on every element of your debut and set those suckers to eleven.
As legend has it, in the early 2000s the daughter of a Sri Lankan freedom-fighter slash visual artist named Mathangi “Maya” Arulpragasam (AKA M.I.A.) was introduced to the iconic Roland MC-505 sequencer and drum machine.
Despite having no musical experience of her own, she immediately saw the 505 as a tool to broadcast political messages to a society obsessed with entertainment. She could use hip-hop and dance music as a megaphone to amplify the struggles of marginalized people around the globe.
In the mid 2000s, I’m not sure there was anyone who was safe from Gnarls Barkley and the earworm that was “Crazy.” It was a maniacal track driven by a dark bassline and Cee-Lo Green’s impossibly huge voice—not to mention a pretty great thesis on St. Paul’s writings in 2 Corinthians 2.
And, it was as infectious as all get out.
Once upon a time, the Church was the center of all high art. Most important musical and artistic works during the Renaissance were commissioned by the Church to announce the mysteries of the Divine.
But over the last few hundred years, things have changed. Christian art is now the realm of cheap, oversentimental schlock that sells on sentiment alone.
Kings Kaleidoscope has had enough of it.
Janelle Monae is a chameleon of the finest form. She has been leveled comparisons to James Brown, Prince, David Bowie, and Jack White, and trekking through the monolithic The Archandroid, each one of them stands up to scrutiny.
Monae sets her feet firmly in funk and soul and gropes wildly in all directions grabbing a bit of hip hop, a bit of garage rock, a bit of disco, a bit of MPB, all dashed with a healthy dose of afro-futurism.
And the most telling of Monae’s talents is that such a disparate sounding record not only works, but excels, even with such a goofy premise behind it. Because let’s be honest: a genre-spanning concept album about a robot who is also the Messiah who falls in love with her maker in a city where dancing and love are outlawed should be ridiculous to the point of being unlistenable. But it’s actually one of the best records to come out of the last ten years.
Somewhere after Demon Days was released, Blur essentially disbanded. So without another outfit, all of Damon Albarn’s creative outlet was directed to Gorillaz.
And that’s where the whole cartoon thing kind of shattered. Continue reading
When “Clint Eastwood” hit airwaves in 2001, Gorllaz were immediately pigeonholed as “that cartoon rap group.”
Four years later, “Feel Good Inc.” dropped, surprising everyone with just how good a cartoon rap group could be. But even the strength of that single couldn’t prepare us for the genius of the complete Demon Days.