On Being An Alternative Hip-Hop Artist...and its Pitfalls

WARNING: THIS IS ANOTHER POPCORN ENTRY. So get comfy and grab some.

I might just join you as I write this.

I met a person of station awhile back who tried to clown me a bit because I said I was an alt. hip-hop artist. Challenged me, in a sort of condescending tone, to explain.

I did, and he basically "corrected" me and told me I am what is called "underground". I told him that there are many underground hip-hop artists that would disagree vehemently with that assessment. I've even been told as much by a respected so-called underground hip-hop "tastemaker", that my stuff is not underground.

Yes, I may actually BE under the radar, if we used the term "underground" in that sense, but I am still alternative, in the sense that what I'm doing is not what you would expect from hip-hop when you first hear that that is my genre of choice. There are artists under the radar with me that are doing exactly what one would expect of hip-hop, creatively. That ain't me.

I've also been called a pop artist, which, frankly, I am sick to death of.

I know pop really is supposed to mean "popular"--which isn't a bad thing in and of itself, being popular-- but in this day and age, for someone who strives to be authentic to who they are, it also means "death sentence", "disposable" and "dismissable", and I don't wish to own being any of those things, no matter what bent my sound might take in its journey.

People have a tendency to just kind of shove things in a box when they don't understand it, and more often than not, the box they shove you in is wrong. Because you can dance to the majority of GATA City, you would think that I'd be shoved in the dance category, but since people think of EDM/EBM, dubstep and the like when you say, "dance", I am demoted to pop. I also get told a lot that I don't belong here, I belong "Overseas" where I would "do much better", as if Overseas is one big land that will solve all my problems like it's the Emerald City.
And I know there's the typical/not-so-typical-but-accepted-cuz-they're-conscious hip-hop brethren, sistren, and cousins of mine who would look down their nose at me, side-eye me, or tell me, "That's cute, sis" and give me a virtual pat on the head, but go on and on about how ill certain mainstream female rappers are when I know I could run circles around some of them lyrically.

I won't pretend to make myself bigger than what I am; I won't even sit here and say I'm at-par with some of the other unrecognised ladies under the radar with me. There are so many down here that I've heard, been introduced to, or whatever...some, I've even been called upon to emulate, but my days of emulating anyone have been far behind me for years. I will, however, tell you that I know I deserve a fair shot at being taken seriously and listened to.

Talking of "listened to"... that's also another pitfall that comes not so much with being alternative, but just being a hip-hop artist-- NOT being listened to.

For example: there is an event that Newark is trying to do called Better Block Newark, and they were looking for people to get involved. Someone on its organisation team had somehow gotten hold of my email address and was sending me so much mail about it. So, naturally, I submitted myself... and got no response for a month, save for more email about volunteering.

When I did get a response, this is what met me (and two other people on his staff the sender sent to via CC):

Thank you very much for your interest in supporting our efforts in hosting Better Block Bergen. Unfortunately, the intention of the event is to provide family friendly entertainment for this celebration. Otherwise, we would surely be provide the platform to present your work. I'm sure it will be a great occasion and welcome you to contact my colleague Perris for an opportunity to setup a vendor table. 

Again, please accept our regrets. We hope that you still choose to support Better Block Newark as we intend to expand the initiative and need all the support from entrepreneurs/residents like yourself.


Mind you, I was asking about performing, but they're talking about selling at a table.

I replied, pointing out that my stuff is mainly profanity-free, and is indeed family-friendly--that in fact, I had been complimented by parents on that very thing (and sometimes, even shunned for it by others, but I digress). I mean, I wouldn't have been booked at family-oriented block parties if it wasn't, would I? But, I get this back:

I appreciate your cooperation and I must insist if you have materials or goods you would like to share and/or sell during the event we can surely provide space and a table to do so.

I did notice the lack of profanity and such in your performance and I commend that. Please continue to support the event and we can work to better curate the next event's programming to potentially include your stage set.

Huh. Okay, so, basically, "Get a vendor table and be happy. If you play ball, perhaps we'll let you do your li'l thing. but not now."
When I brought it to the attention of friends and GNOtaku, they thought that the "family-friendly" bit was a joke, with at least one friend surmising this:

Oddly enough, Peace had said that very same thing right before she posted that!
I'm pretty sure that they didn't bother to listen, just saw the words "hip-hop" and ran the other way. And for them to sit and say they "noticed the lack of profanity and such" when I could tell they didn't listen was insulting. If they had listened, pointing out that they were looking for "family friendly" entertainment wouldn't have been an issue.

I bet, though, that they'll have a local dance team that either a) has little girls doing inappropriate choreography but excused as cute (and wearing tutus...which didn't really start much here until after Fashion Is Art) or b) is using music that wasn't pre-approved and ends up full of curses and suggestive themes.

Why?

Because that's what's acceptable around here in the Brix. And it's acceptable because it's what they know.

Someone always tells me to look for ops in my own area; music blogs always suggest becoming a thing in your hometown first. Well, this is what happens when I attempt to do that...unless I meet someone like the true owner of Majesty Loft or someone else willing to take a chance on the weird girl in the cat ears. I'm mostly ignored (not even an email saying "no") by anything you'd think I'd be welcome to perform at in Newark--including Newark Gay Pride, if you can believe that. Newark is nothing if not afraid of new or different, and I think it is time that I truly accepted that and looked for gigs elsewhere, or make my own. Then show up at theirs anyway in full Nyan Regalia, like: "AND WHAT...?"

Which leads me to...addressing this past week's incident involving the "different".

For years, I have been trying to get involved in Afropunk somehow, due to the many suggestions of others (sent press releases, joined featured bands group), only to be mostly ignored, and I think a lot of well-placed badmouthing by certain individuals killed that to begin with. But, being somewhat undaunted and willing to believe that perhaps I might be mistaken, I entered the Battle of the Bands voting competition after much encouragement.
Days later, I received this:

We see some suspicious behavior for your entry, as it receives runs of repeat votes from the same or a series of closely related IP addresses.

166 votes come from duplicate IP addresses.

As this is evidence of cheating, we regret to inform you that your entry will be disqualified immediately.

Okay. Here is the math on the voting process:
--It is a single click voting platform.
--You must vote through Facebook.
--It will not let you vote twice from a single IP address.

And yet...I cheated, and was disqualified. Yup.

Of course, this brought cries of outrage from my friends/GNOtaku. Some thought "sabotage", some thought that they could have just discounted the duplicates, since there seemed to be trouble voting from phones and devices--a lot of people complained that they weren't sure their vote had even gone through. "With this knowledge," one said, "surely a malicious person could systematically get everyone disqualified, except the one they want to win!" And most agreed with that assessment. But I just chalked it up to Mercury Retrograde and the former badmouthing taking its toll.

Ironically, I didn't even enter to win, just get involved in something of theirs IN SPITE of them...and get noticed by their audience. I wasn't even as upset as I should have been about being accused of cheating.

What I was upset about--which I figured out after some reflection...was that here was yet another place where several people have told me I "belonged"...and it was very clear that they still don't think so...for whatever reason.

I can't begin to tell you how many people have said "Oh, you need to join Afropunk, do their shows, get featured!" Anyone from a music business mentor of mine to the graphic designer of my CD art: "Afropunk is for you!" 

No...no, apparently, it's not.
And that has been sorrowfully driven home by this final nail in the coffin.

So, let's count the places I've been told I should belong and apparently don't: my city, the culture as a whole ("you're a pop artist"), America ("go Overseas!"), Afropunk, and let's not forget Hip-Hop Sisters Artistry, who apparently thought there is only one kind of female hip-hop. (Yup--ignored by them, too.)

This shxt makes you want to run away from home sometimes, LOL. Join the circus. I did actually joke in a Facebook status about buying a town like Kim Basinger did and establishing it for those of us who fit nowhere else.

But...I was reminded (thank you for finally being useful, Mercury Retrograde, you cankerous whore) of something I once told a young strangeling-in-the-making when he came in from outside play, disgusted that the other kids didn't want to play with him at all after they decided they wanted to play tag after he said he'd wanted to still play ball, and decided to confess to me.

"Do you still want to play ball?" I asked him.
"Yes."
"Then be proud that your vision of playing ball-- doing something you want to is strong enough to survive what everyone else thinks you should do. They might not want to play with you now, but they might later; someone might. Always feel proud that you chose what you really wanted."

So...I will reflect on that years-old piece of advice I gave my eldest cub, and take it myself and let it nurture me. They might not want to play with me now...but...someone eventually might.

On Finding Out You're Not Such a Crappy Parent After All

This past weekend, we laid my Tomcat's (my eldest son) father to rest. Upon hearing the news, my boy was amazingly strong, yet he'd expressed concern about not feeling more immediate grief about his passing. I reassured him that whatever he was feeling was okay, and that no-one would judge him for his feelings, and that everyone here would be there for him if he needed us. After a bit of a cry from most of us here Lairside, he seemed strengthened, and carried on as usual.

Soon after, he wrote this... incredible status on his Facebook regarding how he felt/his goodbye to his father:

 It was extremely well-received by not only people on his and my friendlists, but by family members and friends of the family he did not know.

He was asked to read his good-bye at the memorial service, and both before and after the service, people were so good to my son and said such nice things to me about how well-mannered and intelligent he was. Some even encouraged him to consider attending the college his father attended.

It was a bit overwhelming but gratifying to know that the work (and I use that word loosely, because it really wasn't work at all; it was a privilege) I put into making sure my boy loved to read, encouraging him to express himself, teaching him to be his own person, and insisting that he use his manners, if nothing else, was not in vain. To receive confirmation that he is indeed a wonderful kid is the best gift and comfort I could ever get.

I'm probably the happiest weirdo parent in the world right now. Thank you to everyone who was so sweet to my boy, and thank you for confirming that I'm not such a bad parent as was previously said.

Thank you, my beautiful boy, for being you.

And, thank you, Jermaine, for giving me our brilliant son. For that I will always be grateful.
Rest well.

My Current Holy Grail For My Natural Hair

Underneath my loc extensions (and NO, not the type you see all the time as the current protective style being worn by like, EVERYONE)...I actually DO have hair. It's not this ::snap:: short, it's not down my back, but it does exist. It is a ball of fine, dense, fragile, low-porosity, mostly-4a-some-3c rebellion, but I am learning to love it. When I am out of lox for as little as 3 weeks to as much as 4 months (my last stretch), I coddle it and try to keep it healthy. It frustrates me--mainly its shrinkage is what does it to me, but the ends being old are a pain in the ass, too. Any natural-haired coily lady will tell you that she has her own struggles with her tresses.

Okay, granted--it's Merida, but her hair is crazy. Look at it. LOOK AT IT.

I had a setback where I cut off too much hair. I thought my dry, old ends were all split and grody, but that wasn't the case! They really just needed more love and care because they were old. If I hadn't cut, it would be much longer now than it is currently. To add insult to injury... my hair has been longer on one side for much of my life, so cutting it made it sooooo much worse. I had something like eighteen inches that got cut back to more like, sixteen and fourteen. Ugh. It also suffered thinning, thanx to some med I was on. I'm glad I've gained much of it back, mostly due to good care and partially due to a supplement I inadvertently started taking. I firmly believe that it has strengthened my hair; it even feels different when I touch it. I've been enjoying the journey and resisting the temptation to go back to a texturiser to avoid the SSKs (single-strand knots for the uninitiated) and the shrinkage. My hair shrinks about 60 percent, sometimes 70. Ugh.

I've learned that as it grew, the texture came out more, and I could really see what it looks like. I like it despite its tendency to shrink. I didn't know it looked like this--this coily and happy. It almost looks like it did when I had a texturiser, if it's not quite shrunk and still covered in conditioner. I sometimes wonder what it might look like now if a relaxer had never touched it, ever, and it was allowed to grow and I never cut it but for the occasional trim. The past is just that, though-- past!

I remember when I first went natural, I used to do a twist-out every few days because I had no clue what to do with it, and I got tired of that and started doing this one puff on my head...bad idea. I lost my edges in the front due to that...you know, the "corner temples" at the top, for lack of a better description. I started braiding it up again just to leave it alone, and to let it rest while I babied the edges.
When I got the texturiser it didn't take the first time, so it was trial and error until we got it right. I used to wash with shampoo once a week, leave conditioner and shea butter moisturiser on it every day. I was a bit of a product junkie--at one point I was using 4 products on my head(!), but I found that I could pare it down to two things for my wash-and-go: shea butter and conditioner. And it looked great.

I returned to that combination recently on my natural hair to give my hair a little extra love because it needed it...and it looked so happy. I imagine it felt like this:

And it retained moisture for several days,  right up to my next wash day!
So, here's the products I used.

White Rain Coconut and Hibiscus Conditioner

White Rain Coconut and Hibiscus Conditioner. I used this to co-wash, sometimes left a bit in. I'm not crazy about the smell (it's practically non-existent and powdery), and it could use a little more slip, but it was okay for co-washing once I watered it down a bit. It's good for combing, but I like something a wee bit more slippy, so enter...

TRESemme Flawless Curls Curl Moisturising Conditioner

TRESemme Flawless Curls...OMG. The boyfriend bought this to sub for my usual TRESemme condish--I think it was Smooth and Silky. I fell in love with the scent and the way it made my coils pop. I'm hooked.

On top of that stuff, I just ran some shea butter over every section, then let air dry. Done. And the coils were ecstatic. They were bouncy and springy and shiny and happy, which didn't help my hand-in-hair problem (gotta work on that). It's funny how you come back to things that worked well before.

My mami, who I convinced about growing her natural hair out (she used to cut it all the time) a few years ago, just tried the Dove product line for curls and is raving about the definition she gets with it. Once my hair comes down out of lox I may try it just to see if I like it.

As I write this, I am deep conditioning to prep for going back into lox. And I'm already looking forward to seeing the coils again once they come out in a few months. My journey always seems as if it begins again once I try something different, or something I haven't done in awhile. So, it's never dull, that's for sure.

Adventures In Finding a New Unison Phunk Regime Recruit

::sigh::
Good Lord...talk about a laborious undertaking.
We used to have a pretty great relationship with a dancer who was young and funny and rather skilled. I like to treat the dancers like family--not as an accessory. He was like a younger brother...and he up and moved to Florida, because NJ wasn't treating him very well, to nutshell it. He's doing much better in Florida, and we're very proud of him.
But that left me with no dancer... for nearly a year. This didn't help my confidence in the act much at all. So I stopped looking and got really bummed about it. I was starting to wonder if the position was jinxed like the Defence Against the Dark Arts teaching position of Harry Potter lore.

See? Like that.

So recently, we aggressively recruited for a show that fell into my lap, promising pay. Of course, all of the sudden people we'd asked before-- and who gave no real response-- were eager to comply.

Okay, maybe it wasn't this serious.

Now we have our pick, but it's still not easy. Schedules, lives, work, everything. Wondering if they'll be a good fit. Wondering if they take this as seriously as we do. Hoping against hope that they can actually dance and that they won't bxtch and moan about having to hear my stuff over and over again (yes... this actually happened once). Praying that they'll do the work.

I remember the kid I mentioned earlier admitted, months after he got the gig, that he actually showed up to the audition smashed. On Everclear, of all things. We couldn't tell! I asked why he felt he had to show up like that, and he said he was afraid I'd be a taskmaster, like Debbie Allen in Fame or something.

He was right on part of that, in that I do tend to be a bit of a perfectionist, but, to be fair, he hadn't even met me yet before the audition, so that struck me as some serious foresight on his part.

But I digress...

The process of finding the right person is annoying. At one point I was getting resumes from dancers that were waaay out of the spectrum in which I was searching. These people had credits like you wouldn't believe! All I wanted was a good-looking dude with a good personality who could keep up with Peace, wear the clothes, do the work, be professional, and come to rehearsal regularly. Not Grand Jete UberDanser of the New York City UberDansers.

And then I was getting the odd person who wanted to dance because they went to the club and someone told them they were good, and they send a video and they look like

Oy.

Then it was I'd find someone who might be awesome for the role, and they hear what they're potentially getting into, and never respond again. Well, eff you, too, LOL.

As I write this, I'm already in a panic because the person we chose so far is flaking, and I don't take to flakes kindly. People who know me know this. I will cut you off completely if I find you are a flake, and at this point in my life, I have dispensed with my usual three-strike rule. You flake once, yer out.

I'll just move on to the next on the list if I have to.

Yup. We're done.

I have faith that someday, we'll find the right fit. Until then, I'll keep looking and working with who the universe brings me.

InvestiGATA: The Ask-Me Video Series

I have a good friend, Ericka, who was listening to me hem and haw over content choices for my channel on YouTube. "Why not do a question/answer/advice thing?" she suggested.

"Why not," indeed...

Frankly, I didn't think it would matter if I did or didn't-- I mean, was anyone really willing to ask ME anything? It just so happened that she was actually right. Much to my surprise (and in some cases, my chagrin), I did manage to get a few questions, and some of of them are tough, so you know I wouldn't ask myself these things, for those of you who might think I cheated or something. I've compiled the best and will be posting these in the first of a new video series called "InvestiGATA".

Know what that means?

That means you can ask me some questions!

Though hopefully not as intense as the ones asked by THIS woman.

What kinds of questions? Ask advice, my opinion, stuff you wanna know! AS LONG AS THEY'RE RESPECTFUL QUESTIONS, I will answer all I can and post it in a video to my YouTube and Vimeo channels. Deal?
You can ask via my tumblr or shoot me an email. Please keep them respectful. Ask yourself, "Is this something I would want to be asked?" If not, then, maybe think of something you'd want to be asked.
Let's keep it fun and interesting...can't wait to see what you ask!

I Need To Be Free! (or: "I Need To Dance...Like, NOW"*)

The need to shake my kitteh tail is O. VER. WHELMING.

I...must...DANCE!!!

I don't mean like, go-to-the-club dance...I mean put-in-like-five-or-six-hours-a-day-in-rehearsal dance.
I used to go to a dance academy on a scholarship when I was a teen, taking five disciplines in one week...and then had to go and TEACH dance in the middle of all that. My body actually misses doing this. I think it was the happiest time of my life...with the exception of ballet, because I am low to the ground. I preferred the grounded-ness of hip-hop and house styles. But I still loved ballet in spite of myself. This time in school even helped inspire my first novel...but that's a different subject altogether. (^_^)

It's funny... because as a Gatita, I had absolutely NO rhythm. Couldn't even jump rope. Man, did I get made fun of! But eventually, with some guidance (thank you, mi amor) and some practise on my own (and a fxckton of music videos), I got it together. Yet, I eventually let it fall by the wayside.

Why?

 I think being responsible and putting all my focus into being a mami, dealing with depression, then not going out to dance as much until I stopped altogether...plus being forced to hide my light under a bushel in certain relationships... then the weight gain-- all of that took its toll. And it didn't help when people in my own camp seemed to belittle the dance part of this brand. Never mind that most of the music involved in it is danceable.

Well... since dance is a big part of the GATA Experience, I have to pull up bootstraps and get dance-ready again. And with Peace's help/participation, I'm slamming myself back into a disciplined bootcamp thing. I need to do this for me and for my spirit...gotta be happy, y'know?

Well, mebbe not THIS happy. But close.

I'll be sharing as much of this journey as my pride will allow. You know us felines. We're a proud bunch. We don't like for folx to see us fall on our faces-- even though when we do, we get up and act like it never happened and totes ignore those who maliciously point it out.

Whoopsie. And recovery!

We'd rather show you all the times we land on our feet with grace. But I believe grace is also showing vulnerability as well--divine grace. What better reason, I ask you?
It's going to take some time, but I hope to be back to fighting form in a few months at the least with the plan I have for myself. The body doesn't forget...even though there's folx out there who think  mine has and I won't or I can't do this (::cough:: FXCK OFF!::cough::).

Okay... even better when Prince sez it.

So, GNOtaku--keep your eyes on my YouTube channel to see me fall on my face get my kitteh shake on...if you wanna!

*reference to this...of course!

Cat's Jumping Out Of The Bag--Again

I was up waaaaayyyy too early yesterday morning and bumped into the rest of that Twitter media explosion about Iggy Azalea, Azealia Banks, Solange, Q-Tip, T.I., and God-knows-who-else. Somewhere in there I saw a barrage of tweets regarding Iggy failing to properly freestyle. Some of these gave me a good giggle:

Reporter: Iggy, freestyle for us Iggy: OK Iggy: SomeBODY once told me the world was gonna roll me, I ain’t the sharpest tool in the shed, sh
— patrick (@pattymo) December 29, 2014

"iggy, freestyle for us!" Iggy: "lol ok" Iggy: Iggy Iggy Bo Biggy, Banna fanna fo Figgy, Fee Fy Fo Miggy, Iggy!
— Dory (@Dory) December 29, 2014

INTERVIEWER: IGGY FREESTYLE FOR US! IGGY: https://t.co/PlJBwmZdR3
— The Kid Mero (@THEKIDMERO) December 28, 2014

(Sorry about the Vine link. It went missing. This is what was there [start at :05]:)

I couldn't. I just couldn't. That last one had me lying on the floor with a lily in my hands.

But I also saw a lot of people calling for Iggy to go up against the likes of Azealia, Minaj, et al, in a head-to-head freestyle battle. The general consensus is that Iggy would go down in flames and it'd all end in tears. Don't shoot the messenger. Google it yourself; search Twitter.

"How does she call herself a rapper and don't even freestyle?" more than one wondered.

And this was me:

(Had to actually make this one, cuz it didn't exist till now!)

Hol' up. Uh-oh.
Well, to be honest, this has been at the back of my mind for years...in fact, I think I even said something about it on my website:

Yup. I did.

I am, and always have been, a rapper who exclusively writes. I have always also been transparent about that fact. It has never been my strong suit. I have a few reasons for why I don't, too.

First off...that's not how I learned. I was always under the impression that you wrote lyrics. Like, on paper. With a pen. That's ALL I ever did. So I'm really not accustomed to off-the-top-of-my-headness, really. I know that I can come up with rhyming words, yes, but I kind of... construct lines as opposed to just going, "Blah". This is not to say that people who can and do freestyle aren't constructing lines; it's just in a different way that I didn't learn.

Which brings me to the next thing. I don't have that seemingly effortless mind-to-mouth connect flow. My mind goes waaayyyy faster than my mouth (damned Virgo). So by the time I get anything out, I'm fxcked already. Oh sure, I can prolly come up with plenty of words, but getting them out in a flow off the top of my nekomimi?

Yep. Nope.

There is also the issue of the rhyme actually making some kind of sense. I have seen freestylers do that and come out sounding like they wrote it, but not always successfully. I need for my words to loop, ebb, flow and do interesting shxt. I'm doing incantations sometimes, LOL. It requires ink and paper. I'll say the line first, then write it down. That's all there is to it.

I never really saw the point of battling--as far as me. I wasn't about slugging it out verbally to gain dominion. I just wanted to be a part of the experience-- of the culture. It spoke to me at a very young age. It had already infiltrated my immediate family via my cousins, who had a dance troupe, and it seemed that everything they did (in Newark, anyway) eventually was adopted by other dancers who were inspired by them. Since I bloody well wasn't gonna ask them to teach me to dance, little rhythmless Gatita just watched from the sidelines. And once I knew most of the songs they had played, I knew I was gonna go in that direction--be an MC. It was challenging for me.
I come from a songwriting background. 'Nuff said.

In spite of the fact that I don't freestyle, I still craft bars. I've dropped some bombs--and I'm not saying this to sound like I'm the be-all end-all--people have literally said I dropped them. And it is very humbling to find out that people who I thought didn't like me much, actually had the utmost respect for my "lyricism", as they put it.

I'm not gonna say ”I can't”, because that's limiting. I say ”I don't”, because that much is true. But this issue coming up--again-- sometimes does have the insecure side of me kinda doubting myself, TBH. Questioning if I'd be considered a ”real” rapper/MC. And does that really matter, in the grand scheme of things? ::shrugs::

I can only guess it depends on your own perspective. I saw someone say that Iggy not being able to freestyle is like a singer saying they can't sing.

Uhm...what?

Bruh. Singers...usually end up having to sing LYRICS. That were WRITTEN. WITH A PEN (or MasterWriter or what have you). And sometimes, BY SOMEBODY ELSE. Not a great argument; buh-bye.

I think that if you are indeed a rapper/MC by vocation, balls deep in the culture, and you can execute the words you wrote with a sick flow, and blow at least most of the room away (you always gonna have a few haters), you ARE a real MC. I can and have done those things, but art usually requires tools. Painters need brushes (or spray cans...see what I did there?) and "canvas" (wall, face, actual canvas) to paint, bakers need pans and a mixer to bake, contractors need tools to build...I need a pen and paper...and, of course, my brain.

That's my (TRUE) tale...and I'm sticking to it, mane.

And walking off just like this.