it is long time ago that I do anything here. It will get better when I’m back home, because time may get there less exciting as my time here in Brasil! So here some mailbox-news of mine!
Our submission period is open November 1st 2012 to January 31st 2013.
We also welcome book reviews for our website all year round. Please query via the contact page before submitting reviews. Reviews must be under 1000 words. Our aim is to support new and emerging writers, and other small presses. Poetry and experimental prose reviews preferred.
great weather for MEDIA is seeking poetry, flash fiction, short stories, dramatic monologues, and creative nonfiction for an upcoming print anthology. Our focus is on edgy and experimental themes and styles. We highly recommend coming to one of our events, or reading our first book, It’s Animal but Merciful, to see the type of work we are interested in. Let us know in your cover letter how you found us, and any feedback on what we have done so far. We are based in New York City and welcome submissions from both national and international writers. For submission tips, check out our interview on Duotrope.
Guidelines:
The deadline is January 31st 2013.
We do not consider previously published work, whether print or online. This includes limited edition chapbooks and personal blogs. We accept online submissions only.
Payment: One contributor copy, plus $10 for writers based in USA. International writers receive two copies.
Simultaneous submissions are fine with immediate notification if accepted elsewhere. Contact us to share your good news. Include the date you submitted the work.
We accept MS Word documents (Times New Roman 11 or 12 pt preferred) and will consider:
1-4 poems of any length. Single-spaced please, or how it should appear on the printed page.
1 prose/creative nonfiction piece,2if under 500 words. Maximum word count: 2,500. Prose should be double-spaced.
Please place all work of the same genre in one attachment.
Do wait until you hear back from us before submitting new work for consideration.
Use the form below to submit your work*, and good luck with your writing!
Copyright: great weather for MEDIA holds first serial rights for material that we publish. The copyright automatically reverts to the author upon publication. All work may be permanently archived online. We ask that great weather for MEDIA is acknowledged in any subsequent publication of the work.
All writers who submit are added to our monthly email newsletter. You are welcome to unsubscribe at anytime – no hard feelings!
Kids' sports means triumph and heartache — and that's just the parents in the bleachers. An essay collection.
We welcome submissions to the sports parent essay anthology. Before you submit an essay, please review these guidelines:
All stories must be true and be from the perspective of a parent of an athlete.
Please include your essay in the body of your email, not as an attachment. Be sure to include your email address and your name in the body of the email as well.
By submitting an essay, you warrant that it is your own, original work and that you hold the copyright to the essay.
By submitting an essay, you agree to supply the information, when requested, to fact-check the veracity of the events described.
Anonymous submissions will not be considered for publication.
Essays that have not been previously published elsewhere are preferred, but previously published essays will be considered if you still hold the copyright. Please indicate in the body of your email where the essay has appeared and what rights you hold.
Submission is no promise of publication. We retain the right to edit submissions.
Submissions close: MARCH 2013
We hope and expect to acknowledge your submission shortly after we receive it. We expect to send further news about which essays are under consideration for inclusion in March 2013.
Have you penned fables featuring Flickr? Tales told through texting? Pinterest prose, Reddit reading, LinkedIn lit, irony over Instagram — or flash fiction in the framework of Facebook? If so, your work may have a place in ONLY INTERCONNECT, a forthcoming print and e-Book exploring the intersection between social media and short stories.
Digital media is now an inescapable aspect of how our lives are lived, and it influences who, what, where, why and how we read — and write. Increasingly, writers not only invoke emails, iPads and even good old MySpace in our plots, but integrate interactive conventions into the actual form and structure of our work.
Authors as diverse as Dennis Cooper and Tao Lin have embraced the constraints and opportunities presented by ever-shifting rubique of online communication. We’re aware of many other great examples, and we’d like to experience even more and offer them exposure and a collective home — on the printed page and digital screen.
ONLY INTERCONNECT is being curated by a couple of experienced writers and editors with a keen interest in how short stories are increasingly informed by digital-media platforms — from blogging to YouTube, DeviantArt and eBay. We’re approaching several respected indie literary publishers to find a place for this unique book.
ONLY INTERCONNECT seeks highly creative work whose content and/or form are inspired by social media — great writing that moves beyond using digital forms as mere quirks or gimmicks. In essence, we’re looking for effective, provocative storytelling whose form and content just happens to be pretty damn innovative, too.
If you have a story that fits this bill or want to try your hand at creating one between now and April 1, 2013, we want to hear from you. We'd love to see new, previously unpublished work but we're open to giving a wider audience to reprints that are aligned with our theme.
Most passionate specifically about the possibilities of the short-story form, we expect that given our focus, some overlap with poetry -- and even undefinable in-between hybrid forms -- is probably inevitable. And definitely exciting. We’re also open to novel excerpts that are aligned with the vision of ONLY INTERCONNECT if they work as self-contained standalone pieces.
I thought this would be fitting, given all the conversation about slavery as edutainment.
Roger Guenveur Smith's Frederick Douglass NOW - a monologue inspired by the life and work of abolitionist Frederick Douglass.
A work that Smith has performed for about 20 years now, speaking of contemporary remixes of styles and stories, it comprises of edited piece of Douglass' 19th Century texts, mixed into Smith's own original writing to produce an edgy, stylistic, jazz-infused narrative mash-up that could very be the blueprint for an exciting feature-length screenplay.
Originally commissioned at the La MaMa Experimental Theater Club in New York, Smith has performed Frederick Douglass NOW at prestigious venues on both sides of the Atlantic.
It's what you could call a beast of a performance, with some excellent writing; and is worth watching if you've never seen it.
Thankfully, I found this 2011 performance of it at Wellesley College's Newhouse Center:
The ongoing three-part photography series “Distance and Desire” at The Walther Collection in Chelsea explores themes of African identity. Here, Life + Times sits down with art collector and founder, Artur Walther, as we chronicle part one, “Archival Encounters,” in which photographs of South African subjects in the 1920s taken by white Europeans are juxtaposed with self-portraits of South African subjects of the same time period. We also look ahead to the future installments of the series, including contemporary works shaped by the archives.
Mental illness does not know how to discriminate. Yet many still think mental disease only affects a certain type of person. It is not something that is supposed to happen to a lovely, talented, bright, Black female artist and mother. But this is Bassey Ikpi. Living with Bipolar II disorder and depression, she was moved to become a vocal activist for mental health awareness when her friend’s 15 year old daughter, Siwe, lost her battle with depression and took her life. Soon after, Bassey founded The Siwe Project, a global nonprofit dedicated to raising awareness and opening dialogue about mental health and treatment throughout the African diaspora. Bassey spoke with Progressive Pupil about her mission.
One unique aspect of The Siwe project is that it addresses the mental health of Black people on a global level. Do you find differences in the way various Black populations throughout the world address mental health issues?
Absolutely! I spent part of the summer in Nigeria and what I realized is that Nigerians don’t even want to admit that mental health issues exist. Even with obvious mental illness literally roaming the streets, they still believe it’s a character defect or spiritual flaw rather than a medical condition. In the United States, it’s like Black people know it exists but think it’s for White people or if they accept that it exists, they don’t want to talk about it at all. So The Siwe Project has to approach the US and African countries differently. Sadly, the one common denominator is this idea that it can be prayed away.
What is the biggest challenge in promoting mental health awareness in the Black community?
Getting people to listen. I get a lot of resistance. People want to challenge me about what causes mental illness and how to treat it. They challenge me about whether or not it’s a “White thing” that we were given during slavery. And the last bit is valid because there are generations of mental illness and trauma in the community but that does not translate into ‘so there’s nothing we can do about it.’ Which is usually what their point is and I fight against that. I push and push treatment and management so that we can live bigger and fuller more healthier lives [sic]. I feel like Black folks feel like [what they're] suffering [from] is a birthright and that is killing us. You don’t talk [a] diabetic out of taking insulin or seeing a doctor, why do it for an illness that affects your head?
You have been bold and brave about your own journey with mental illness. Recently you traveled back home to Nigeria, your birthplace. Did knowledge of your story affect how you were treated?
Absolutely not. I’ve been so vocal about it that it’s just a part of who I am. It’s not the loudest or most visible part [of me] and that’s actually my point. I have on these sick shoes, this bad outfit, hair done, I have a great career and oh yeah, I’m treating and managing a mental illness. That’s how I want it to be seen. The Siwe Project’s tag is “It’s not who you are; it’s what you have” and that’s what it boils down to.
For many Black people around the world, medicine is a luxury and therapists are unavailable. What do you think are their alternatives for treatment?
I suggest you call the Behavioral Health Unit of your nearest hospital and ask for help. The Siwe Project’s in-house therapist, Dr. Lisa Jones, also suggests calling Planned Parenthood. I’m not a doctor so I can’t suggest alternatives. I just know for me, meds [sic] and therapy have saved me – but I also watch what I eat. I take meds [sic] and I meditate. You can do both.
How can people help support The Siwe Project and become an advocate on a personal level for mental health awareness and treatment?
On a personal level, I think staying open. If you feel like someone you love is dealing with a mental health issue, talk to them about it, they may get mad at you but let them be mad. There are places you can call, like hotlines, to ask about how best to deal with a loved one with illness. You can email me and I’ll forward it to Lisa. And honestly, help erase the stigma by being sensitive to illness. I see a lot of jokes on twitter about “Crazy people” and I spend a lot of time correcting them. Share your story. Protect and support your loved ones.
WHEN I WAS YOUNGER, perhaps no older than 10, I used to spend my Sunday mornings, prior to going to church, cutting out pictures of topless models from Page 3 of The Sun newspaper. I’d creep out of my bedroom before anyone was awake, take out one of my mum’s kitchen shears and then, with early light creeping through the orange curtains in our front room, I’d find an old newspaper and cut around the sizeable bumps of buxom and often blue-eyed, blond-haired British vixens.
After adding the paper model to my scrapbook collection, I’d place the newspaper back into the bottom of a pile of 15 or so papers, wash my darkened (by print) hands, and return to bed.
Then one morning, while kneeling on my parents’ Persian rug, oversized scissors clasped in my sweaty hand, anticipating who I’d add to my collection (by this stage I had started to become familiar with the models), my older sister Paula walked into the front room.
“What are you doing?” she spat.
“Cutting some pictures out,” I replied matter-of-factly, no doubt clutching an ample part of a half-naked paper body.
The rest of the conversation is a bit of a blur. Paula cussed. I shrunk, like only a boy or a man can when caught doing something perverse. Paula asked why. I said I didn’t know. Paula asked how long I’d been cutting these pictures out. I lied. I handed her the topless wonder in my hand and the following morning dumped my scrapbook in a neighbours’ front garden. I never cut out a picture of a topless model again.
This was the first of many occasions when Paula or my other sister Karen had halted my sexist behaviour.
The story popped into my head recently as I read about British Politician George Galloway’s claim that one of the allegations made against WikiLeaks founder Julian Assange was more a case of “bad sexual etiquette” than rape. In reference to the Assange rape charge (where it is claimed that, after consensual sex, his accuser awoke the following morning to find Assange having sex with her again, without a condom), Galloway said that this does not constitute rape, as the pair had already had sex. This was also the week when Republican politician Todd Akin claimed that women who have been victim of “legitimate rape” rarely become pregnant and when Rihanna confessed that she still loved Chris Brown, despite the fact he violently assaulted her in 2009.
British politician George Galloway. If you sleep with someone once and you say no later, is it rape? Not to him.
The Galloway story, however, made me question just how far removed my pre-teen boob collection was from George’s ‘boob’.
We are both products of the same patriarchal society, a culture framed around capitalist values. Bell Hooks illustrated it best when she used the conflict between Walter Lee and his mother Lena Younger in A Raisin in the Sun to highlight the point: “He tries to explain to her that the values she holds dear (being a person of integrity, being honest, sharing resources, placing humanist goals over materialist ones) are not the values that lead to economic success in a capitalist society.” Worst still, it is a culture that is essentially destructive and disrespectful to and often times hateful towards women.
Julian Assange....
Growing up as a young black kid in the east end of London, masculinity could best be described as a can’t, don’t, never culture. You can’t be soft, don’t act gay, and never compromise. These rules were far clearer than your can’s and do’s. And these messages were reinforced in the playground (a place where you learnt far more about real life than in the classroom) and by elder kids. If you want to survive, you have to be tough. Can’t let anyone in. Can’t be vulnerable. You’re in or you’re out. The melancholy of manhood may manifest in different ways in different cultures, but it’s equally negative.
Our attitude to girls and later women was similarly crude, uncompromising and lacking in sensitivity.
Girls were discussed almost exclusively in relation to sex or as physical objects. Bitch, frigid, fit, butters (ugly), bow-legged (implying she slept around), slapper, baby mother, “my woman” (as if a piece of property). There were more slang words for a woman’s vagina than any other body part or object. Scupie, pum pum, putus, punany, gash.
We talked about how many women we slept or ‘got off’ (kissed) with; good sex was all about how long it lasted, how many times you did it, whether you got a blow job or not (a bonus if she swallowed). And you definitely could not go down on a woman, because it was unmanly, dirty, a concession that you were no good in bed, and had to resort to desperate measures. And if “your woman” was not satisfied after a seven hour, five-time, 13-position bedroom session, well, there must be something wrong with her. A man’s default position. And a position shared, it seemed, by wider society.
Of course our preoccupation with sex, our objectification of women, and our obsession with being tough concealed our fears, our insecurities. It was also, in part, a reaction to a society that demonized us as young black men. As such, we felt our actions, our attitude was fully justified. Fuck it. Yet no one, outside of our homes, challenged our perceptions of women or how we defined ourselves as men.
At junior school (aged 7-11), I remember when a girl with long, straight ginger-hair and freckles, a Jehovah’s Witness I believe, called a friend of mine a “black bastard.” He slapped her with such force with the back of his hand that she flew head first onto the floor. The girl was suspended for what she said; my mate escaped with a caution.
When I entered secondary school (aged 11), it was common for boys to attack the popular girls in the playground. Several boys would chase these girls, pin them to the floor, pull down their skirts and knickers and shove their grubby little hands where they shouldn’t. This happened practically every lunch time. The girls would play up to this as if their popularity hinged on how often they were jumped. Yet when the girls emerged from this strange ritual, this sexual violence, they never cried, never cursed. But their looks told a different story. They shrunk, with an aching smile.
The Page 3 incident popped into my head because, without my sisters’ ‘check points’ (read: verbal beatdowns), I would not have had anything to measure my sexist behavior against. No base from which to question or indeed improve my conduct.
I did not take heed of everything they told me. They couldn’t stop me from listening to the Geto Boys (even if, like Lupe Fiasco, I omitted the derogatory terms while rapping along), watching porn and laughing boisterously at old Eddie Murphy stand-up shows. As an adult, I have acted dismissively towards men who did not display sufficient levels of can’t, don’t, never-isms, watched porn and cheated on girlfriends. I haven’t always challenged my male friends’ misogynistic attitudes. I have an ample list of deeds that I am not particularly proud of.
I do, however, have some pretty solid ‘check points’, which is why I found Galloway’s comments so disturbing.
The reality is gender inequality is so embedded in our culture, so normalized, that it seems almost impossible to have a sensible, honest debate about the issue. This was apparent in the media’s coverage of Galloway’s comments, which reduced the topic to a somewhat lazy feminist-versus-misogynist debate; a subject only worthy of discussion when a celebrity is involved or when a severe case of abuse has been revealed. The papers swarm all over it, a moral panic ensues and then it swiftly dies down as if a mere extreme or unlikely episode. An incident perpetrated by gang members, perverted politicians, men that have been abused, and ex-offenders all with the underlying insinuation that the woman is to blame. She had sex with him before, so what if she’s asleep when he enters her again? Why did she go to his room in the first place? How can it be rape if no violence occurs? She’s married to him. “Legitimate rape?”
And Todd Akin... "Legitimate..."
This is an everyday thing, a common social problem, perpetrated by everyday guys. Most of it goes unreported, perpetrators are rarely convicted and survivors are often left unprotected by law.
In the last two years, female friends of mine have been forcibly kidnapped and beaten up, assaulted while heavily pregnant, punched and stalked; one has attempted suicide due to being raped by a relative, another suffers from frequent verbal abuse from the father of her child, in front of their child. Boyfriends, brothers, baby fathers. Can’t, don’t, never. Maybe some of these guys have been abused, exposed to domestic violence or perhaps they have been sexually assaulted. It’s more likely that they have not been exposed to any such abusive experiences at all. Can’t, don’t, never. Fuck it.
We know some of the solutions. Changes are needed in the law. There needs to be better pre-school provision, and a culture that promotes empathy, relationship skills, emotional support, greater self-awareness and self-management from a young age. Yet more needs to be done to challenge the root causes of the negative aspects of masculinity. There are not enough programs or institutions that attempt to unpick and redefine manhood. Wasn’t it KRS-One that once said, “the stereotype must be lost that love and peace and knowledge is soft;” those principles would be a good start.
How about men challenging men? Who do you turn to in times of conflict with your partner? Who gives you practical or emotional support after you have cheated, or caught your partner cheating? Who do you speak to when you suddenly get a violent urge? Or when you’ve hit a partner?
It would be great to see more programs like Mentors in Violence Prevention (MVP), which was designed to train male college and high-school student-athletes and student leaders to speak out against sexist abuse and violence. The idea being that men in powerful positions have the status to influence the behaviour of their peers in the way they treat women and challenge male culture. The program has broadened somewhat since it started in 1993, but the idea of men ‘check-pointing’ men, boys ‘check-pointing’ boys, and developing peer groups who do not adhere to what society says a real man should be is a good start. Maybe not the solution, but a good starting point nonetheless.
I cannot speak for other men, but I probably haven’t cultivated enough intimate and honest friendships with men; male friends that legitimately challenge my behaviour and vice versa. It’s a gap in my life. Something I need to explore. Not only to tackle my own behaviour but also to release me from constrictive noose of can’t, don’t, never masculinity which, I must confess, has often made me feel downright depressed.
About Derek A. Bardowell
Derek A Bardowell is a writer and commentator on Black culture, manhood and sport. He has contributed to the BBC, MTV, Time Out and The Source, and he was Director of Education at the Stephen Lawrence Trust.
The Black Russian is the incredible story of black American Frederick Bruce Thomas, born in 1872 to former slaves who became prosperous farmers in Mississippi. A rich white planter’s attempt to steal their land forced them to flee to Memphis, where Frederick’s father was brutally murdered.
After leaving the South and working as a waiter and valet in Chicago and Brooklyn, Frederick sought greater freedom in London, then crisscrossed Europe, and—in a highly unusual choice for a black American at the time—went to Russia in 1899. Because he found no color line there, Frederick made Moscow his home. He renamed himself Fyodor Fyodorovich Tomas, married twice, acquired a mistress, and took Russian citizenship.
Through his hard work, charm, and guile he became one of the city’s richest and most famous owners of variety theaters and restaurants. The Bolshevik Revolution ruined him, and he barely escaped with his life and family to Constantinople in 1919.
Starting from scratch, he made a second fortune by opening celebrated nightclubs that introduced jazz to Turkey. However, the long arm of American racism, the xenophobia of the new Turkish Republic, and Frederick’s own extravagance landed him in debtor’s prison. He died in Constantinople in 1928.
About the author Several years ago, while preparing a course on Russian émigré culture between the wars, Yale professor Alexandrov ran across a reference to "the famous Russian Negro Fyodor Fyodorovich Tomas," said to have owned an entertainment establishment in Moscow called Maxim's. A black man with a Russian first name and patronymic? How did he get to Russia? And how did he end up, as he did, in Constantinople? Therein lies Alexandrov's fascinating tale, which is beginning to spark interest. (source: www.barnesandnoble.com.)
Brooklyn based jazz singer and songwriter, José James is the rising star of the next generation of contemporary music. Since the release of his Equinox demo back in 2006, James' forge his reputation by collaborating on record with a wide assortment of jazz and hip-hop acts, including, Nicola Conte, Toshio Matsuura, Jazzanova, J.A.M. (SOIL & "PIMP" Sessions), Junior Mance, DJ Mitsu, Basement Jaxx, Flying Lotus, Chico Hamilton, Jef Neve and Timo Lassy. To honour the eclectic style of José James, I’ve put together some track from his original album and his collaboration with the artist named above.
Enjoy, FR
Tracklist:
Little Bird feat. José James – Jazzanova – Of All The Things
Autumn in New York – José James & Jef Neve – For all we know
Winterwind – José James – The Dreamer
I Don't Know Why (I Just Do) feat. José James – Chico Hamilton – Twelve Tones of Love
My Favorite Thing– José James & Jef Neve – Facing East : The Music of John Coltrane (recorded live)
Equinox – José James – The Dreamer (recorded live at Paradiso, Amsterdam)
Love Conversation feat. Jordana de Lovely – José James – Blackmagic
Evidence of Existence – José James – Blackmagic
Night in Tunisia – Toshio Matsuura Group feat. José James – Blue Note Street
Promise In Love feat. José James – DJ Mitsu The Beats – A Word To The Wise
L.O.V.E.J.A.M. feat. José James – J.A.M. – Just Another Mind
Like Leaves in the Wind – Nicola Conte – Rituals
Ya Dig feat José James 1 – Timo Lassy – Timo Lassy
Jazzy Joint feat. José James - J.A.M. – Just A Maestro
All or Nothing at All feat. José James – Nicola Conte Jazz Combo – The Modern Soul of Nicola Conte
Moanin' – José James – The Dreamer (recorded live at Paradiso, Amsterdam)
The Dreamer – José James – The Dreamer (recorded live at Paradiso, Amsterdam)
Awakening feat José James – Nicola Conte – Rituals
Lush Life – José James & Jef Neve – For all we know
Lazy Afternoon feat. José James – Chico Hamilton – Twelve Tones of Love
Lay You Down – José James – Blackmagic
Kings & Queens feat. José James – Yellowtail – Grand & Putnam
Electromagnetic feat. Ben Westbeech and TK Wonder – José James – Blackmagic (Japan)
José James Interview – Lexis – MIMS
Visions of Violet – José James – Park bench people EP
Gimme Somethin' True feat. José James – Basement Jaxx – Scars
He’s the man with the Glenlivet baritone; a refreshingly cold-to-the-touch vocal delivery that warms and inebriates each of his listeners and onlookers. José James has known rivers, allowing his muse to guide him from his native Minneapolis, to Seattle, over to London, and has now found himself in Brooklyn. His albums, The Dreamer (2008), BlackMagic (2010) and For All We Know (2010) have been explorations in jazz, hip-hop and electronica, within all of which you can pinpoint his inspirations, which are about as varied as they might seem: John Coltrane, Billie Holiday, Ice Cube, J Dilla, Michael Jackson, Bobby McFerrin. He treats his albums like a child treats a shiny new Christmas gift, embracing, playing and mastering it until it’s time conquer the next toy, without so much as a backward glance. His forthcoming release, No Beginning No End, an exploration of soul, is just another block he walks in his metropolis of genre-shattering self-discovery.
Photo by Seher Sikandar
Your father was a multi-instrumentalist. Did he have a hand in encouraging you to become an artist?
Not at all. He really discouraged me from doing music because it’s such a hard profession. I wanted to be a writer first; I didn’t get into music until I was 17. The first big book I got into was “Dracula” by Bram Stoker. Then it was James Baldwin, Richard Wright, Toni Morrison, those kinds of authors. I think their perspective of African-American culture and how music fits into that is really important.
Tell me about the music you grew up listening to as a kid.
My mom’s a big hippie so I heard Peter, Paul and Mary, Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell…I liked everything as a kid. I thought everything was good. But then I started getting into my own stuff, like Prince, and of course, Michael Jackson – Off The Wall, Bad and Thriller; those were the records that Ibought, my vinyl. And then CDs came in, in high school – I moved to Seattle for a while too – so Nirvana and the whole grunge thing was just popping off and that was cool. And then hip-hop just exploded; Cube’s The Predator; Beastie Boys’ Ill Communication, De La Soul is Dead and Buhloone Mindstate, A Tribe Called Quest, Rakim and Pharcyde, the Geto Boys, Cypress Hills and Digable Planets. It was a great two year period for music back then.
That’s quite an eclectic array of music you came up on, but I couldn’t help but notice that you didn’t mention any jazz artists. When did jazz become part of your life?
It came later. I got introduced to Duke Ellington and Charlie Parker and Thelonius Monk later in high school. I think I heard some samples of Tribe’s stuff, and I was looking at [album] credits and checking out these names I never heard of. I didn’t know a lot about jazz. I just knew, like most people, the big names like Billie [Holiday], Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington, Charlie Parker. So I started with those people, not even albums, but samplers.
Most artists recall that 1st jazz album they hear as being the spark for their musical ambitions. What was that record for you?
It wasn’t any one record, it was the whole thing. It was like walking into this room with all these superheroes, because everybody’s amazing. Everybody’s so killin’ on their instrument and all the sidemen and everything… I would go down the line and look who played piano on this. Ok, Sonny Clarke and then he’s got a whole wealth of material as a leader, and it just goes on and on and on. Max Roach, same thing. It wasn’t really an album, it was more of the realization that there’s this whole world of music, and musicians and this treasure trove of art. Although I will say that Eric Dolphy’s Out to Lunch was a huge record for me. Coltrane had a huge impression on me as well.
When did you make the decision that music would in fact be your career choice?
I think I just wasn’t good at anything else [laughs]. I couldn’t play basketball; I wasn’t tall enough. There was nothing else I wanted to do really. So I started getting gigs and opportunities. I said “I really like this. Let me try it out.” Minneapolis is a really easy town. It’s pretty cheap, the rent is cheap, it’s a good standard of living so it’s easy to be an artist there. So I just spent the next few years gigging, trying a lot of experimental stuff: theater, music, poetry, blending it all together. I did some solo shows because I was really influenced by Bobby McFerrin, who was living there too. He was the Artistic Director of the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra. I did a whole series of duo shows; me with a soprano sax, me with a piano, me with another singer, me with a drummer. And then I had my own band, it was a quintet.
How active were you in trying to obtain a record deal while you were in Minnesota?
I wasn’t really at the time. I was just enjoying the music. Really, I just wanted to buy more records [laughs]. I think it’s just different with jazz. Once you decide you’re going to do jazz, you realize it’s going to take you your whole life to do anything original and to get to a level that’s anywhere close to Ella, or Miles or any of these people, stylistically. I think anybody who thinks they’re, like, soaking in right away, is just not going to last long in jazz. It’s a whole different mindset. I wasn’t thinking about making a record, because I didn’t have anything original to say. I just wanted to learn the standards, and that takes years of practice and jam sessions and buying real books and trying to figure out what people are doing. It’s like trying to unlock a code.
What motivated you to eventually pursue a recording contract? Who were the people that made you feel you could succeed in that regard?
I think the signings that were happening in the ‘90s made it seem that there was more of a scene. All of the ‘young lions’ were going to sign; Roy [Hargrove], Christian McBride, and singers, you had Kurt Elling and Cassandra Wilson. Those were the two singers I followed in the ‘90s who were really out there, on Blue Note, doing some progressive work as singers; I thought it was pretty cool. I didn’t really want to be like them musically, but they were the two biggest examples of [jazz] singers in the ‘90s.
Is that why you came to New York to enroll in the New School For Jazz & Contemporary Music?
That’s where all the connections are basically. College is the only way to get into it if you don’t know anyone in New York. I didn’t really want to go to school, per se, and I only stayed a year. But I think you have to go to New York. That’s where all the musicians are. It’s better in Minneapolis, in terms of creativity; that’s really rewarded with tons of grants and funding, but in terms of having a career – getting any type of press, a label deal – you have to come to New York.
So how did your first recording deal finally happen?
I went to London for the 2006 International Vocal Competition, and I was one out of 10 singers, I think. I recorded an EP right before I went, which included “The Dreamer,” some other original stuff, some Coltrane pieces and I just gave it to a lot of people. I spent a whole week in London, met a whole bunch of people, and Gilles Peterson got a copy. He told me he was starting a new label, Brownswood, and asked would I want to sign. I was the third artist on that label. I made The Dreamer [LP] saying that if I only make one record in my lifetime, I want to be able to stand by it for the rest of my life. That was my statement on jazz and music, and I think it’s my best record so far. It’s definitely my most complete statement on a personal artistic level.
The music on The Dreamer is very subdued and sensual in terms of both its music and your vocals. Is sensuality a natural part of your artistry?
In terms of sensuality, I love Billie Holiday and Marvin Gaye. They were very “close-mic” singers, kind of whispering almost. The microphone is an instrument, and singers more than anybody use it in a different way. Billie Holiday couldn’t have existed as a singer in the jazz field without a microphone. Before her, everybody just sang with these huge voices and they didn’t need a mic.
After the all-out jazz recording of The Dreamer, you collaborated with Flying Lotus on Blackmagic. What was it like being produced by him?
It was just natural. I think his EP was out, Reset, and that was the first thing I heard and I loved the whole thing. He was in London and Gilles said ‘do you want to meet him’ and I said yeah. A couple days later, we just met and had a drink. I said I like your work, but I wasn’t thinking about working with him. I was cutting down tracks to get the 10 tracks that became The Dreamer. I had about 28 tracks that were done. I gave him all the tracks just to see what he thinks, and he really liked it and he said, “we should do something.” Then, he was working on his Los Angeles album. He wanted me to do this track called “Visions of Violet.” That was our first connection. He decided not to use it for the album and we just put it out on vinyl. Actually, it was the B-side to “Park Bench People,” and people were like, ‘Yo, this is really dope.’ And we started making a lot of tracks for fun, basically. After a couple, I realized, ‘this is a really interesting direction for me, and maybe this is what I should do for the next project.’ I knew I wasn’t going to do another jazz kind of album, so he just came at the right time.
You mentioned “Park Bench People.” You transcribed that from Freestyle Fellowship’s rap lyrics over Freddie Hubbard’s “Red Clay.” You also wrote lyrics to Coltrane’s “Equinox.” How did this skill enter you repertoire?
John Hendricks is the guy who really perfected that as an art form. You’re just trying to tell a story and trying to find a word that sounds like what they’re playing. When I sing that solo (“Equinox”) I want it to sound as close as possible to that solo, and sometimes a word in a story that would work better just doesn’t sound right, so you have to find the vowel or consonant that makes it work. I’d never do it now, because it’s too difficult. I did that when I was 17 and I had all the time in the world. It’s a real challenge and working with a great band really helps make it alive, instead of a recreation. I feel like now it’s gotten to the point when it feels like we’re playing “Equinox.”
Blackmagic had a lot electronic inflections on it. Why did you go so left of The Dreamer?
I knew after [The Dreamer] was done and after I’d toured it for a good couple years, I knew I couldn’t make another statement in that way. I didn’t know what it was going to be, but I knew I just couldn’t do exactly that. Just like now, I know I can never make another record like Blackmagic. A lot of people want me to work with Lotus again, but I can’t. You can’t repeat yourself. I want go back to working with musicians. That’s where my heart is.
You’ve recently been singing with McCoy Tyner on tour. How did this tremendous opportunity come your way?
This is the 50th anniversary of Impulse [Records], and so, they wanted to do the Johnny Hartman/John Coltrane record. At the time I had gotten those three nights that I did at Lincoln Center, the Rose Theater, with Wynton [Marsalis] and Billy Strayhorn. We did “Lush Life” which is also on that record. So, either they heard that, or they knew about that, and they said, “yeah, this is gonna be a good fit.” That’s a dream come true, working with people who are masters at what they do, working at [Tyner’s] level, you learn so much. I learned more in a day working with McCoy than I learned in a year with my peers. He’s got a wealth of information. There’s a kind of communication and information in their music that’s just not present in anybody else in my generation. It’s not about chops, it’s about experience. I like to work with older people: Junior Mance, Chico Hamilton, McCoy. To me, that’s the real connection to black music, and then there’s their connection to people like Dexter Gordon, Coltrane, Louis Armstrong. That’s what it’s all about.
During your live performances, you have a tendency to really stretch out your voice and show your range, rather than remaining laid back like on the records. Why don’t you belt it out more on wax?
I don’t perform my songs before I record them. I record everything first. That becomes the definitive version and then I perform them. So by the time you saw me do these songs, like “Park Bench People,” I’ve now been performing that for three years, so it’s changed a lot. It’s more of an evolution of the song through performance, really. I think if you listen to a version of Kind of Blue that they play live, they’re very different, they’re faster. I don’t really want to do an album that sounds like a live performance. Most people write songs and they tour those songs to get them ready, and then they go to the studio when they’re ready. But for me, I write the song, and usually the first performance, and the first time the musicians see the music is in the studio. It’s more like a natural progression of the song as a performance.
During your first NYC Jazz club performance this year at the Jazz Standard, a number of audience members were surprised you were wearing a fitted cap, leather jacket and sneakers. Is your wardrobe a conscious decision or more of an afterthought?
It’s definitely conscious. What we’re trying to do is present jazz-based music or music that has a high degree of improvisation, in a new, younger context. I think there’s a whole movement that we’ve been talking about, of people who grew up with hip-hop; it’s a natural language for them. And there’s a younger audience that wants this new music, but they don’t necessarily want to call it jazz and I don’t want to call it jazz, which is a reason I don’t usually play jazz clubs. I just think anything that would limit our audience, and we’re trying to avoid that. When I sing with McCoy, I’m wearing a suit and we’re all looking clean, but if I want to send my music for people who are 35 and under, that’s not how they dress. Cats want to come, they wear a fitted and some Jordans or whatever, so I think it’s about making them comfortable, too, creating a space for the audience to feel like “Ok, this is something I can bring my lady to.”
You once stated of your new single, “Trouble,” it’s like your Marvin Gaye-type song, but there’s also that D’Angelo “Brown Sugar” vibe. Are you going in that Soulquarian direction with the new album?
Yes and no. Obviously Pino Pallidino is on the album, so that’s the reference – and Russ Elevado did a lot of the tracking for the record too. But beyond that, I’m more interested in the group interplay and the rhythmic things that they did, based on J Dilla’s stuff, like on Voodoo. I’m not so much interesting in the song form or the kind of writing style, but the way that they played, I’m interested in that. The instrumental part of it; bringing hip-hop, R&B and doing complex harmonic things on top of that. That’s why I look to a Marvin Gaye, an Al Green, a Donny Hathaway, Quincy Jones, who are more harmonically driven in their writing. I would hesitate to say, yes, it’s the Soulquarian thing, because to me, that happened a long time ago. I definitely wouldn’t want to recreate that, but I think there was a lot of valid musical advancements that haven’t really been explore, to be honest. I lot of the groups and artists that I thought was going to be around for a long time aren’t doing music anymore.
Expounding on that point a little more, we’re witnessing a transformation of jazz with the infusion of multiple contemporary genres. Do you see yourself as a leader in this movement?
I just think it’s in the air. Now, it’s like Ben Williams, or myself, or [Robert] Glasper, we love hip-hop, it’s what we grew up on and it’s like a natural expression, it’s just a musical expression for us. It’s not a big statement. It’s like an extension of what The Roots did, in my opinion. I don’t know if we’re all thinking about it so much. I think it’s just natural for us to do. I think we’ve reached the point where now younger people have to say what they’re about. The internet and downloading, it kind of just changed the whole game, so all you have left to sing is this is who I am, whatever that is. I think there’s something in the air that’s moving towards it. Instrumentalists like Takuya Kuroda, Corey King or Ben Williams, the younger generation of New York based jazz musicians, are collaborating more, using hip-hop or soul or R&B changes. There’s a lot of overlapping circles.
Your forthcoming CD No Beginning No End includes some pretty heavy musicians like Glasper, Saul Williams, Amp Fiddler, etc. What’s your impression of it at this point?
It’s pretty dope, man. We’re excited about it. Me and Takuya have been working on just the arrangements for months. I’ve done it session by session, so we’ve had a chance to listen to the music and really orchestrate it. I think it’s really rare to have so much time to work on a record so by the time it’s done, I think all the time and expertise that we were able to bring will really show. Working with that level of people – Chris Dave and Glasper, cats from the U.K. – there’s a lot of attention to detail, which is what I wanted to do. A lot people just feel like jazz things are just thrown together and you just have a session, but this is really an album; carefully crafted, well thought out, every step, every song, arrangement. It’s a different side of me and I’m writing in a different direction, but it’s definitely gonna be the most cohesive statement of my musical concept. I don’t think of it as one genre; it’s all mixed together – R&B and jazz.
This has all the makings of possible crossover exposure. Would you be open to becoming a so-called “mainstream” artist?
If it happened naturally, if it was a natural progression, if the music was embraced. I’m not sitting down, writing and producing trying to get to that. I don’t think D’Angelo was either, per se. I think he was just making music and it caught on. At the time, Brown Sugar sounded totally different from all the other male R&B stuff. And Voodoo again. I’m not shooting for that, but I wouldn’t say no to it. Whenever you try to plan where music is going to go, that’s a problem.
Although the album is still being finished, have you given any thought of what type of project you might do after the No Beginning No End phase is completed?
I’ve planned for the next three albums, at this point. Obviously it changes, but I have a pretty clear idea of a seven album arc from The Dreamer to that record of what I want to do. The music tells you what it wants. I think it’s like once you’ve fully gone into something like I did with The Dreamer or Blackmagic or For All We Know, those are just statements of a certain style and there’s nothing else I can do with that style, so you have to move on to the next one. So once I do this, there’ll be nothing else left of that. So I know there certain things I want to do. One of the main projects is gonna be a Coltrane project, for sure. It’s more like things that I’ve worked on through the years. Maybe a certain kind of song that was maybe more singer/songwriter but it didn’t fit on anything, so I put it to the side. Maybe that concept will be a whole album. The Coltrane stuff will be a whole album, maybe like a bluesy thing, maybe that will be a whole album.
