BUGGIN' OUT

The Gift of GIf’s

Isa — Tue, 21 Jun 2011 20:04:42 +0000

If It Fits In The Back Pack: 10 Years On The Road With Mochilla

Isa — Sat, 04 Jun 2011 02:05:55 +0000

He Said, She Said: Rainer Maria Rilke

Isa — Tue, 31 May 2011 19:28:53 +0000

“For the sake of a few lines one must see many cities, men and things. One must know the animals, one must feel how the birds fly and know the gesture with which the small flowers open in the morning. One must be able to think back to roads in unknown regions, to unexpected meetings and to partings which one had long seen coming; to days of childhood that are still unexplained, to parents that one had to hurt when they brought one some joy and one did not grasp it (it was joy for someone else); to childhood illness that so strangely began with a number of profound and grave transformations, to days in rooms withdrawn and quiet and to mornings by the sea, to the sea itself, to seas, to nights of travel that rushed along on high and flew with all the stars-and it is not enough if one may think all of this. One must have memories of many nights of love, none of which was like the others, of the screams of women in labor, and of light, white, sleeping women in childbed, closing again. But one must also have been beside the dying, one must have sat beside the dead in the room with the open window and the fitful noises. And still it is not enough to have memories. One must be able to forget them when they are many, and one must have the great patience to wait until they come again. For it is not yet the memories themselves. Not until they have turned to blood within us, to glance, to gesture, nameless and no longer to be distinguished from ourselves-not until then can it happen that in a most rare hour the first word of a verse arises in their midst and goes forth from them.”

— Rainer Maria Rilke (The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge)

The Making of Act II

Isa — Tue, 08 Mar 2011 00:31:40 +0000

“Ladies and gentlemen, love is the only thing that can save us all” — Jay Elect

For Those Who Have Burned, For Those Still Aflame!

Isa — Sat, 29 Jan 2011 01:32:41 +0000

There is no destination other than towards another refuge from yet another war. Our destination is fixed on the perpetual motion of search. Fixed in its perpetual exile.” – Theresa Hak Kyung Cha

*all photos re-blogged from >>> In pictures: Anger in Egypt via Al Jazeera

Heroes Eventually Die: Lauryn Hill and “Us”

Isa — Fri, 21 Jan 2011 00:15:37 +0000

“Even the sun goes down, heroes eventually die
Horoscopes often lie and sometimes “y”
Nothin’ is for sure, nothin’ is for certain, nothin’ lasts forever
But until they close the curtain
it’s him & I Aquemini..” — Outkast excerpted from Aquemini

To worship Lauryn Hill is to miss the point entirely. The impulse to glorify her genius or gift only creates a dangerous distance between her humanity and “ours” (a fiction in its own right). It is to obscure that which binds us; our pain and our triumph and the countless points of intersection and overlap in all of our fabulously messy and non-linear life trajectories. Of course, the temptation to attribute her success to the specifics of Lauryn Hill (the celebrity as differentiated from the person) is somehow always lurking in the shadows of our mind. I imagine it is similarly seductive to indulge one’s vampiric audience by performing the omniscient all-knowing celebrity archetype our culture shamelessly demands. But who am I kidding? Lauryn is more often cannibalized than revered. Fans have been harboring oceans of resentment against her since the release of her Unplugged album. She has quickly become the Joaquin Phoenix of hip hop. There is something terrifyingly toxic about this compulsion to possess her; to leave her stranded atop the mountain of mastership she ascended back in the “Miseducation of Lauryn Hill” days. I retired my naive attempt to understand fans’ deeply rooted sense of betrayal a long time ago. It is my hope that the circulation of the above videos disrupts the cliche (and vindictive) narrative of Lauryn as some raging lunatic or bitter politician or fallen angel or scorned lover or religious zealot or any other combination of rigid and dichotomous identities that we’ve scripted her into. In “The Uses of The Blues” James Baldwin writes:

“In evading my humanity, you have done something to your own humanity. We all do this all the time, of course. One labels people. But in the doing of this, you have not described anything — you have not described me, you have only described yourself. What I think of you says more about me than it can possibly say about you.“

And so I wonder what the construction of Lauryn’s “insanity” in the popular American imaginary says about us. What is our stake in preserving her persona; in some romantic freeze frame of her glowing radiant image in the Ex-Factor video? What threat does change pose to the fragile balance of our universe? I found that the above speech demystifies this rather cruel relationship between artist and audience and reveals something far more tender and vulnerable (but not unbearably so). Lauryn’s playful mockery of the first brave high school student’s convoluted language effectively disarms the audience’s expectation of her to play “politician”. Once she establishes a conversational level of engagement, it becomes clear that her intent is not to impart cliche wisdom (a la Diddy) or deliver an impassioned indictment of “the Industry” and it’s perilous evils. The epicness of it all falls away with every appropriately corny Matrix reference and nostalgic anecdote. There is no sentimental soundtrack quietly manipulating the students in the background; no staged Dead Poet’s Society “Oh Captain, My Captain” moment of collective Eureka! It is far less cinematic and earth-shatteringly transformative. Instead, we are all left with more questions about ourselves than answers about Lauryn. To me, that alone is the greatest testament to her speech making abilities and reflects an honest portrait of a person offering her own experience and story to illustrate that ultimately we know nothing and isn’t that a beautiful and necessary surrender? I think so.

The Triumph of James Blake

Isa — Wed, 19 Jan 2011 01:55:04 +0000

“All I know about music is that not many people hear it. And even then, on the rare occasion when something opens within, and the music enters, what we mainly hear, or hear corroborated, are personal, private, vanishing evocations. But the man who creates the music is hearing something else, is dealing with the roar rising from the void and imposing order on it as it hits the air. What is evoked in him, then, is of another order, more terrible because it has no words, and triumphant, too, for that same reason. And his triumph, when he triumphs, is ours” – James Baldwin from Sonny’s Blues

James Blake’s triumph is ours. There is no cerebral rationalization or insider irony needed to maneuver his musical universe. While I ride hard (and unapologetically so) for the twisted genius of Lil B, James Blake doesn’t require the spark of a YouTube cooking movement to reawaken and revitalize his already captive audience. There is no question mark lingering above his success (whether or not he becomes your favorite artist is a separate issue altogether) rather there seems to be a quiet consensus of his roar rising. Every now and then, an artist’s popularity is not merely predicated on meaningless hype but a bubbling enthusiasm for a spirited new voice. And while Blake is hardly pioneering anything “new” or “groundbreaking,” he is producing and re-animating music that moves and activates listeners like some kindof beautiful, majestic British unicorn…or something.

Now imagine the exacting moment in which music breaks open and floods your spirit. It feels as though it was composed by the very physics of your body’s own force. This is the only miracle we have ever known; miraculous in how it escapes the chokehold grip of language. Indeed, we fear what we cannot describe, what we cannot control. And yet, there is something profound and inescapable in surrendering to the power this music has over us –- a necessary hijacking. It’s often accidental and mundane. There are no explosions to literalize the feeling of breaking open (as there shouldn’t be).

I was first introduced to Blake’s music on Sunday morning (don’t read any religious fervor into this lol) when my dear friend Christine played “Wilhelms Scream” on the magical Technics her brother gave her over Christmas (siblings, take note). She insisted I listen on the headphones to be fully immersed in the listening experience. I am grateful to her for curating this initial impression so thoughtfully. Too often, we make snap judgments on music after a few rushed rotations on our generic computer speakers. Although to be fair, very little popular music is architected for deliberate and intimate listening. Blake disrupts these lowered expectations and laces his textured compositions with haunting harmonies and nuanced instrumentation. Blake truly understands the space of sound; he leaves the listener room to wander and breathe in each song. When I first heard “Wilhelms Scream,” I felt stretched, disarmed and naked yet rendered strangely legible. The song’s melancholia subtly encoded with a peaceful surrendering to the madness of living (and falling and turning and loving and falling some more) reverberated somewhere deep inside me. The song articulates a shitstorm of emotion stripped down bare to it’s most visceral, raw and basic elements. It hit hard.

I don’t know about my dreams
I don’t know about my dreaming anymore
All that I know is
I’m falling, falling, falling.
Might as well fall in.

I don’t know about my love
I don’t know about my loving anymore
All that I know is
I’m loving, loving, loving.
Might as well love you.

I don’t know about my love
I don’t know about my loving anymore
All that I know is
I’m turning, turning, turning,
Might as well turn in.

I’ve always admired song writers who can capture human complexity and contradiction in simple language. Blake effectively located the power of a gerund (-ing) in adding layered meaning to his emotionally resonant lyrics. As many critics have noted, his delivery is reminiscent of Bon Iver who similarly mastered the use of autotune with artful restraint. And just like Iver’s “Woods,” Blake’s “I Never Learnt To Share” or “Limit To Your Love” will have you awkwardly fighting tears in public on your commute back home (or maybe I should just speak for myself). For some, the evocative nature of Blake’s music is only suitable for specific times of day, activities, spaces (both mental and physical) to avoid any inconvenient breakthroughs or breakdowns. I would also choose another soundtrack for work; Blake is no background music but do you! In the meantime, anticipation builds as we await the release of his self-titled album James Blake (an 11-track album) to be made available as a digital download, CD and 12″ vinyl on February 7, 2011. Mark your calendars and support the man. Be sure to check out his lovely website for more information and downloads. ♥♥♥

MC Killers. Milk & Serial. Get It? Forget It.

Isa — Sun, 28 Nov 2010 00:17:59 +0000

My view is aerial
Your crew inferior
My crew imperial
Mc Killers
Milk & Serial
Get it?
Forget it.
You’ll still be connecting the dots with smoking holes in your fitted
Those that got it be all at the shows throwing fits
The light from the dynasty sign froze all of the critics and nary a soul got on they frog toes ribbit

Shhh…
Was the night before the coming
Sugar plum candy coated lines for the dummies
Decoded hieroglyphics in the shrines for the mummies
We ain’t illuminati but our eye is on the money

My minds on the scripture
It’s beautiful, I see every line on the picture
So when the leaves Russell and the cock Crowes winter just know that the Black Gods mingled a bit
Then the fingers got pricked
Then the single got picked
Man I’m living out my brain I don’t dream about shit.
If I say dream, I mean Dream, Fresh not Hampton
I got a date with destiny I’m definitely not cancelling

Romancing
The Stone
The Roc
The Throne
The Elegant Celebration sent tremors through every nation
The Stars aligned like cars at grand central station

Elevation
Yours Truly,
My duty in obligation: The newly appointed ruler who moved with no observation like W.D.
Say my name on a record, W.W.III
I’ll put you niggas in a box like the WB
Here’s a footnote on the Blueprint
Whoms fucking with We?
Yeah
Bad grammar
Widescreen panorama
Paranormal activity seen in the camera

So if you want that turmoil
I’ll twitter facebook YouTube worldstar you
Rap radar nah right 2dopeboy you
Your plans is foiled
Your guns is borrowed
We living in tomorrow
A tissue for your sorrows

[Jay Electronica]

One two, one two
uh, yeah
I’m sailing on a cloud, they trailing below
my shrink told me it’s a feeling they’ll never know
I pack up all my sins and I wear ‘em to the show
and let ‘em go, let ‘em go, let ‘em go, let ‘em go

I’m sailing on a cloud, they trailing below
my shrink told me it’s a feeling they’ll never know
I pack up all my sins and every L that I blow
and let ‘em go, let ‘em go, let ‘em go, let ‘em go

In the land before time, a land before altar boys
Synagogues and shrines, man was in his prime
look how far I go in time just to start a rhyme
the method is sublime
you get blessed with every line
I’m in touch with every shrine from Japan to Oaxaca
Your melonated, carbon-dated, phantom of the Chakras
Me and Puff, we was chilling in Miami
He said “N-gga f-ck the underground,
you need to win a Grammy
for your mama and your family,
they need to see you shined up
you built a mighty high ladder, let me see you climb up
Nigga, what you scared of?
terrorize these artificial rap n-ggas and spread love
pollinate the ear buds
like you supposed to, spit it for the culture
pay no attention to the critics and the vultures
they rather have a shot of Belvy just to spite you
they cast the judgments ’cause they feel they got the right to”
F-ck ‘em, I let the dice roll like my father did
I gotta shine, it’s in my blood, I’m a Harlem kid
I treat my babies right, treat my ladies ladylike
Hit ‘em with a remix, then make sure that they play me twice
I thought you said it’s the return of the black kings
Luxurious homes, fur coats and fat chains

[Jay-Z]

In this manila envelope, the results of my insanity
Quack said I crossed the line between real life and fantasy
cant it be the same, went on covers with Warren Buffett
was ducking the undercovers, was warring with mothaf-ckers
went from warring to Warren, undercovers to covers
if you believe in that sort of love, your screws need adjusting
in the World of no justice and black ladies on the back of buses
I’m the Immaculate Conception of rappers slash hustlers
my God, it’s so hard to conceive
but it all falls perfect, I’m like autumn is to trees
Uh, the doc interrupted
he scribbled a prescription for some Prozac
he said “take that for your mustard”
boy, you must be off your rocker if you think you’ll make it off the strip before they Pac ya,
n-gga you gotta be psychotic or mixing something potent with your vodka
It takes a lot to shock us but you being so prosperous is preposterous
how could this nappy headed boy from out the project
Be the apple of America’s obsession?
you totally disconnected with reality, don’t believe in dreams
since when did black men become kings?

[The Dream]

You have no idea
the means to what I say
and you have no idea
of how I got this way

Now, fear my dreams
and by the time you wake
I’ll look down from the clouds
see, I’m on my way

He Said, She Said: Tazio Secchiaroli

Isa — Sat, 27 Nov 2010 23:46:08 +0000

“We photographers were all poor starving devils and they had it all — money, fame, posh hotels. The doormen and porters in the grand hotels gave us information, tips — you could call it the fellowship of the proletariat” – Tazio Secchiaroli 1958

Exposing Strange Logics: Brad Downey

Isa — Mon, 27 Sep 2010 22:31:00 +0000

Un-Stitching Karl 2007 :: Berlin, Germany

There are multitudes of signals and systems that govern our cities and imperceptibly determine our everyday movement. Artist Brad Downey stakes a claim for the right of the individual to interpret and understand these systems, and thus regain power in the public arena.

As a public, we are acclimatized to these signs and beacons, and their subtle manipulation and proliferation can go undetected. Brad Downey, via his art, shines a light on this institutional regulation of public behavior. By wider awareness of these controls, his viewing public, he hopes, will gain greater understanding of his own urban and social situation.

Subtle, comic and very often provocative, Downey aims to surprise the viewer by illuminating how public and private property, and urban space and personal experience, overlap in an era of increasing privatization. He finds forgotten remnants of urban architecture to re-invent and rejuvenate. These are then re-inserted into the everyday landscape. The works are a temporary disruption, usually remaining in place for as short a time as a few minutes, but also sometimes becoming a permanent fixture in the landscape of the metropolis. – excerpted from Brad Downey’s Biography

Castles Beneath Cities 2008

Negative Spaces Save The Day 2006 Up-Sign-Down 2004 :: Atlanta, Georgia

Holler Back & I Hear You Bro 2003 :: Brooklyn, New York

The Beginning and The End 2010 :: Hamburg, Germany