10 Years of 'In a Perfect World...'

by Charne Graham

It’s the year 2009 and you just finished picking out a spandex color-blocking fit with studded heels for the party tonight. Getting dressed to music is imperative before a night out and of course, CDs are still a thing. You press play on In a Perfect World…, Keri Hilson’s debut album.

The fourteen track project from the Decatur, Georgia native is filled with party tracks and sexy deep cut slow jams alike. Set to be released in 2007 but pushed back several times due to issues with the budget, the album would go on to earn Hilson two Grammy nominations for Best New Artist and Best Rap/Sung Collaboration at the 52nd Annual Grammy Awards. That should come as no surprise, as Hilson has an illustrious history of writing hit songs for some of music’s biggest names like Ciara, Usher, Ludacris, Britney Spears and Omarion.

A bulk of In a Perfect World… is produced by Timbaland, Danja, fellow Georgian, Polow Da Don and Hilson herself. The features are star-studded as well with appearances from Keyshia Cole, Trina, Kanye West and Lil Wayne. On the 10 year anniversary of its release, here are three of the most notable and impressive singles from Ms. Keri Baby’s debut.

1. “Turnin’ Me On”  - The album’s third single featuring Lil Wayne is produced by Polow Da Don and Danja. The song gave us a futuresque vibe and peaked at No. 15 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart. The visual that accompanied “Turnin’ Me On” finds Keri in rockstar attire surrounded by shirtless buff men with a white backdrop giving a new perspective to the typical scantily-clad music video eye-candy. Besides Weezy, other stars make appearances in the visual like Rich Boy and Polow Da Don.

2 . “Knock You Down” - The fourth single from In a Perfect World… and her highest peaking song ever on the Billboard Hot 100 at No. 3. The double platinum song, co-produced by Danja and Hilson and featuring appearances from hitmakers Kanye West and Ne-Yo is all about how love catches you slipping at the least expected moments. This music video is set in a swanky loft party which also a complete era of the late 2000s fashions. Remember fingerless leather gloves? Kanye and Ne-Yo both play a love interest of Hilson in a love triangle at this party. “Knock You Down” is undisputedly one of Hilson’s hugest songs and also got her one of her two Grammy nominations in 2010 for Best Rap/Sung Collaboration.

3. “Make Love” - The video, released on March 9th, 2009 was used as a promo for Hilson’s album. The “Make Love” also features Kanye West, and finds him cuddling in bed with Keri Hilson after she comes home to prepare chocolate covered strawberries and champagne. The promotional video cuts the five minute and 22-second song short at three minutes and 14 seconds successfully teasing us and wanting more.

Why "Buffalo Stance" Remains the Blueprint for Confident Black Girls Everywhere

by Christine Ochefu

It’s been 30 years since the release of Neneh Cherry’s “Buffalo Stance.” At 8 years old I sat crossed legged in front of the TV set when its video popped up on the screen as part of an 80’s throwback mix. My mum instantly recognized the opening scratches, launching into a retrospective tale about the song’s success and singing the chorus without missing a beat. Doorknockers glinting and head cocking with each move, Neneh glided through her storytelling verses over the sounds of cowbells, offbeat saxophone and near-comical cockney adlibs. Cherry, in all her mean-mugging, curled-lip glory, was eyeing me fiercely on my TV screen, spelling out a punchy refrain of “don’t you get fresh with me” in front of two crazy-eyed, gyrating ladies. I didn’t understand it, but I was hooked.

Moving between Sweden, London and New York, Cherry’s history partially explains the uniqueness of her music style and individual appeal. The half-Sierra Leonean half-Swedish artist started her career at the age of 15, appearing in punk bands like The Slits and experimenting with DJing before releasing the 1988 smash hit “Buffalo Stance.” The song was one of the major British tunes to capture both UK and US audiences that year, reaching No. 3 on both Top 100 charts after its release. Even more impressive was the competition with the other music released that year. Cherry’s release came alongside classic Hip-Hop debuts from artists like NWA, Slick Rick, and MC Lyte, but still managed to perform successfully with both international and UK audiences. For a 24-year-old artist with counter-cultural and punk roots, this was far more than a small feat.

Despite only briefly grasping the content of the track, her delivery and confidence impacted a young Black woman like myself. Cherry made for a complete exercise in genre-bending, with her cadence seeming to be directly influenced by her punk roots. Propelled by a catchy yet assertive refrain “No money man can win my love,” the song is both textbook braggadocio and a quirky dressing down of the “gigolo on the street” soliciting her to stock up his funds. Jumping from pop elements to dance production to a bridge resembling spoken word, Cherry’s boldness in the video and captivating delivery had grabbed me - I knew I wanted to be that woman on the screen.

My mother, too, found Cherry’s presence important. She told me “There was just something about seeing a Black woman making music like that and being so well received and acknowledged.” As is the situation with its American counterpart, Black women have historically struggled to be acknowledged and gain visibility in the UK Hip-Hop and rap industry, something we’re still grappling with now. With Black women afro-trap, grime artists, DJ’s and music industry professionals working hard to assert the right to spaces contemporarily, she echoes my sentiments in garnering support for Black women in the scene. “It’s the kind of thing I’d like to see more of now, people really getting behind Black female artists.”

Since “Buffalo Stance” Neneh has created by five eclectic solo albums and endless collaborative projects, giving us further classics like 7 Seconds, Manchild and a recent work entitled Broken Politics, that deals with critical subject matter like the refugee crisis. Nevertheless, it’s important to return to the title track which first beckoned wider ears to her talent and acknowledge her for her classic place in Black British music history. As a Black woman artist being celebrated for her musical output, she’s worked to cement a place for Black women artists globally with the positive reception to her music on an international scale. I can never forget its significance to little Black girls like me who’d mimic her body movements, classic lip curl and fierce gaze to the audience of our bathroom mirrors, as a kind of ritual to channel Cherry’s confidence through our own imitations. On her 55th birthday, after over 30 years in the music industry, there has never been a better time to celebrate the timelessness of “Buffalo Stance” and importance in her fan’s hearts. And I will never forget its importance in mine.

A Letter to Bbymutha

Brittnee, 

I chose to write you this letter to because you’ve inspired my growth as both a woman and creative. So let’s just call this “give em their dick ride while they’re still here.” Lol. This is me, appreciating you and how you change the narrative of being a woman and a mother of four, pushing the culture one step further. It’s admirable. 

I first found your music on SoundCloud about four years ago and immediately became a fan. It was so compelling that I had to reach out to you and tell you how I felt. I’ve watched you blossom and grow into such an incredible woman and artist while staying true to yourself, your purpose and your passion. 

You are hardworking. You are ferocious. You are passion in female form. You go after everything you deserve while raising four kids! Meanwhile some of us have a hard enough time pursuing our passion by ourselves-this is what I mean by inspiring.

I also love how raw and uncut your music is. You say things that resonate with a lot of Black women. You aren’t afraid of societal norms and it shows, not to mention the sound of your voice is as strong. Lol. It has a sense of power. One of my favorite quotes, “see these niggas only love you while ya happy. Love you when you bone straight, cut you when you nappy,” whew chile! If this ain’t a WORD.

People will really love the idea of you but won’t wanna deal with the flaws and everything else that makes you whole. So thank you for reminding me to show up and be myself in not only my creative space but every space. 

I’ve watched (via social media) some of your “fans” disrespect, bully and be verbally abusive to you out of pure ignorance and lack of understanding. But you’re brave enough to handle it, and I’ve witnessed you take your power back from their negative words, flip it and turn it into something positive for yourself.

My focus words for 2019 are fearless, confidence and love. You embody that. I encourage women to move with persistence and authenticity. Stay true to who you are, stay true to your purpose and stay true to your art. I support what you stand for and I hope you continue to inspire Black girls like myself all around the world. Thank you for being who you are. 

- Angel 

Mia X's Legacy Stands Tall after 35 years in the game

by Brooklyn White

Who is the queen of southern rap? That’s a loaded, borderline unfair question. In the early days of rap, up until the mid-nineties, rap was certainly a coastal game. That’s not to say women artists in the south weren’t making music - they just weren’t the face of it, nor was the overall culture even prepared to digest a southern male act. Women like Salt N Pepa, MC Lyte, and Lil Kim dominated, and it made sense. Hip-Hop was born and bred in New York, and crept over to the west for brutal and spirited perspectives. In 1995 the south was ready for its close up, with a young, freshly booed Andre 3000 proclaiming that “the south got something to say” at that year’s Source Awards.

The tides began to turn, and the music that was reserved for basements and hydraulicized whips went mainstream. But the question of which woman out of the South reigns supreme remains. Some say Trina, the Dominican/Bahamian vixen who entranced listeners with her sexually charged cuts. Others say Three Six Mafia’s first ladies Gangsta Boo and La Chat (who have begrudgingly observed a second wave of the sacreligious, horrifying sound they helped innovate). And others will argue that Virginia’s Afrofuturistic, fashion forward storyteller Missy Elliott is the true standout talent of the south. Truthfully, none of that matters. Choosing a singular monarch is both unnecessary and divisive. But if we are going to discuss the southern women who reconfigured rap, Mia X has to be a part of the conversation.

During my teen years, I would watch a now deleted YouTube clip of Master P’s “Make ‘Em Say Uhh!” The track’s lineup was incredible and filled with heroes from my home state, Louisiana. The video is five minutes of a superteam of dirty south rappers trying to make the crowd jump, while in the middle of a high energy basketball game. But who stood out to me the most was the lone female MC, a beautiful brown skinned woman with a slick hairstyle, long acrylic nails, impeccable makeup and a clover-green jersey set.

Here was a woman, in a music video, who wasn’t light skinned or a size two. Mia X was surrounded by several rowdy men, some of whom were off beat, and not only held her own lyrically, but also showed people that a woman who rapped didn’t have to look a certain way to be sexy, or successful. She was effortlessly both. And this transformative representation gave me the inspiration I needed to jump start a rap career of my own.

Mia began rapping in the mid 1980’s, as a member of a DJ crew with another 504 musician, Mannie Fresh. They would throw parties around the city as teenagers, and Mia would battle rap as well. Her debut project Da Payback would come in 1993. The title track was a nearly 8-minute-long bounce record, overflowing with advice for women who wanted to get the creme de la creme from poorly endowed tricks. It’s an easy listen, with Mia’s commanding voice remaining the track’s center, even as the beat endures several timely switch ups. Da Payback is reminiscent of what people envision when they think of New Orleans. Though it is a long-time land of poverty and site for natural disasters, people have this grand daydream of Mardi Gras parades on Bourbon Street, pressed up-do’s sitting atop smiling faces, and honey-colored bodies bouncing in the sunlight. It is the best of New Orleans, while being unafraid to talk about life in the hood.

Her cadence is Nola-fied through and through - “pay” becomes “peh” and and “away” loses it’s hard “y” as well. This vocal style allowed Mia to cultivate a following as she released her first full length album, 1995’s Good Girl Gone Bad, Unlady Like in 1997, and Mama Drama in 1998-the second and third of which have since gone platinum and double platinum, respectively. Mama Drama spawned a Charlie Wilson assisted classic “What’cha Wanna Do”, which made its way to the Billboard Hot 100. (Yes, before Wilson was rocking straight backs and habitually adding flavor to hip hop joints, he collaborated with Mia X.) Then at the height of her success, at age 29, X retired to take care of her family. She has since battled and defeated uterine cancer and dedicated time to another passion of hers: cooking.

Women in rap come in all sizes and shades, though the sad fact remains that fatphobia and colorism hinder some artists’ career trajectories. Nonetheless there are women rappers who are enjoying comfortable, respected careers. The southern half of America has been the soil for rappers like Asian Doll and Chika, who discuss their surroundings, upbringings and relationships with vivid detail. It’s not a stretch to say that a space for them would exist without Mia X. Her vivid rhymes, proximity to one of the biggest rap collectives of all time, and ability to meander between battle rap and charting singles are some of the reasons why she goes down in history as a matriarch of Hip-Hop. Her legacy is strong, after 35 years of sonning anyone who would dare step to her.

Songs That Remind Me of Home

by Jojo Parker

One Christmas, maybe a year or two before Hurricane Katrina, I was gifted a portable CD player and the Black Eyed Peas album Monkey Business. It was my favorite and most used gift at the time, despite having to hold it a certain angle to avoid skipping songs. There was nothing more powerful to me than listening to music on my own; creating a personal relationship with the notes, bars, melodies and words spoken without influence from others. To this day I prefer listening to music by myself with headphones in. But when Hurricane Katrina changed the space wherein I listened to music, my relationship with it changed. Songs became reflections of the homes—or lack thereof—I had.

"Choppa Style" was played everywhere in my pre-Katrina childhood-on the radio and at every function. The song sounds exactly like the city it represents: loud and boisterous on the surface, unexpectedly slow in some parts and repetitive enough to inspire participation, down to the call and response section in the middle. But outside of the noise and fun, it remains a grim reminder of my broken and dysfunctional family life. My parents went from arguing a lot to not speaking at all during my youth, and now the song represents a home that was broken before it even began.

I once asked my mom if she would scream in response when Choppa said "If you hate your baby daddy holla (Ooww)." Her response: "of course.” I don't think my mom hates my dad now, but I no longer speak to him, which could be a result of her willingness to scream out in joy about her hatred for him. I also have no doubt in my mind that my dad screamed "Oh yeah!" in response to the call out "If you hate your baby mamma holla" too.

Then home moved, blown away by 175 mile per hour winds and the instability of my single parent home. We found our footing in Houston, where everything became chopped and screwed. Growing up in a new city was hard and the older I got the less secure I grew with myself. I was reminded of these uncertainty when "These Days" by Z-Ro would play in the car.

Z-Ro's low voiced lyrical lament, "and these days / seem like where I go the fake taking over like real ain't cool no more / and these days / don't nobody show love / instead of lending a helping hand they want to see blood," would always feel like a direct commentary on my lack of connection to the people around me and, by proxy, Houston itself. Sure, it was home for a while, but it wasn't a home I understood.

I tried my best to fit in, dressing and talking in ways I had hoped would would give me the approval of my white peers. It was an attempt escape the “Katrina kid” label I previously held in elementary school—a label that was only placed on the Black kids. Thus, I leaned towards the emo pop-rock that congregated the music charts. One of the only Hip-Hop songs I had on my phone was "Crack a Bottle" by Eminem, which I would play after school with my crew at the time.

It was the crew that made feel at home, that made me feel safe and with whom I did not have to compromise my being. But as with most things, that sense of belonging was only temporary. One day friend got annoyed when I played the song yet again, angrily stating that they wanted to hear something else. I floundered. I didn't have anything else to play that would produce that same level of camaraderie. I was embarrassed to learn that, just like me, there was no staying power in "Crack a Bottle"; it didn't always belong; it fell out of favor fast.

Hurricane Katrina didn't keep us from visiting family when possible. 6-hour car rides were filled with gas station snacks and my mom’s infinitely large CD collection, which she would cycle through regardless of scratches, skips, or complete breaks. One song that always stood out to me was "More than Friends" from Estelle's second album Shine.

It wasn't the thesis of the song that got me. Instead it was the lyrics, "wonder why, wonder why, wonder why / why must we pretend," that always rang true. Every time we went back home, it didn't feel like home. Sure I was born in New Orleans and partially raised there, but I was losing almost all connection to the place. I felt like I was just pretending to be from New Orleans. I wasn't from Houston, but I was no longer from New Orleans either. I was just pretending to have a place that I could call home and I didn't want to anymore. But I really wasn't presented with any other options.

In my life, there is no pure definition of home. There is no one singular place that I can describe as belonging to. However, there are songs that bring me back to moments in time; lyrics that take to places that no longer stand; bass lines that conjure up car rides; and melodies that lay truth to my sense of belonging. Maybe one day I will have a finite and tactile place to call home. But for now I have an infinite amount of intimate little moments in songs that remind me of home.

On The Timeless Impact Of Tweet's "My Place"

by Charne Graham

Tweet’s sultry vocals were first heard in Sugah, a trio of singers signed to Devante Swing’s Swing Mob imprint that included herself, Susan Weems and Rolita White. While working under Devante, she met fellow Swing mob artists Timbaland, Magoo, Playa, Ginuwine, Renee Anderson and Missy Elliott. When Sugah dismantled Tweet returned home, depressed, suicidal and no longer making music. In 2001 Missy asked Tweet to deliver backing vocals on her album Miss E... So Addictive. A year later Tweet released her debut Southern Hummingbird. And while the two hit radio singles “Oops (Oh my)” and “Call Me” remain classics, “My Place” stands out.

Powerful songwriting and a limitless approach to layering harmonies define Tweet’s music. This skill is on display on “My Place,” which follows the vulnerable intro poem “So Much to Say.”  On it, Tweet opens up about giving up on life, love and contemplating suicide: “A handful full of pills and a Plan B, I wanted nothing to do with life or what was to become of me.” What follows is a song about starting over and inviting a new love into her home.

In the first verse Tweet sings,

“And I picked up a joy to my face/My heart beats faster than a regular pace/And I'm not sure of what it is/I asked my mother to help me with it/ And she said ‘Daughter, you reached a jones and that's real lovin, so carry on’”

This verse signals the start of something fresh. Tweet is not only anxious about beginning a new love, but she is equally anticipating confirmation of her feelings from a maternal figure. What follows is an urgency in Tweet’s request for her lover’s presence, and then a detailed explanation of how long she’s waited for them to get there. It’s a display of familiarity and sisterhood that helps listeners relate their tales of love and romance to Tweet. “My Place” is more than a song about longing and lust. It’s for the women who have waited patiently for love. Who were close to giving up but held on.

Time hasn’t lessened the impact of her this iconic track one bit. Here’s a look at three of the best songs that sampled “My Place.”

---

Bryson Tiller - “No Longer Friends”

Produced by Gravez and Swiff D, “No Longer Friends” is the second track on Tiller’s sophomore album True to Self. This song is all about Tiller being the homie your girl always told you “not to worry about” but ultimately the truth comes out that they aren’t just the friends they seem to be. You can hear Tweet’s hypnotizing harmonies throughout this song.

Goldlink - “Dance on Me”

Goldlink’s “Dance on Me” is produced by Milo Mills & Hasta on his 2015 sophomore album And After That, We Didn't Talk. This track took a more uptempo approach to “My Place” using the same sampled instrumental but sped up with a BPM that makes it hard to sit still or hold up a wall.  The concept of this song was to simply be carefree, enjoy yourself, and dance. It’s less about staying in and being booed up, and more about being out and shaking something. Something like this.

IamSu! feat. Ty Dolla $ign and Terrace Martin  - “Float”

This 2013 collab was the Cali trio we all needed. “Float” is produced by Kuya Beats and featured on Iamsu’s Kilt 2 and Ty Dolla $ign’s Beach House 2. This song took a lustful approach to blending the genres of rap from Iamsu, R&B from Ty Dolla $ign and jazz from Terrance Martin. The unique and somewhat unconventional love song is all about the hopes of a physical future with someone as “My Place” does but there does not seem to have that same patient anticipation.

On Tierra Whack's Surrealist Hip-Hop World

by DeAsia Page

I arrived to Tierra Whack’s Whack World world a bit late, six months after its release to be exact. Nonetheless my arrival introduced me to an artist who fused playful yet thought-provoking lyrics with avant-garde visuals. Who used juxtaposed images reminiscent of work by artists like Missy Elliott and Busta Rhymes. Who carved out a space for herself aside pioneers in Afrofuturism and Afrosurrealism so that she too could create her own world.

Whack World, with its 15 one-minute long tracks, invites listeners to the world of the Philadelphia native. On “4 Wings” she compares her toughness to spicy chicken wings. On “Pet Cemetery” she tells listeners that she’s mourning the loss of her homie and fellow Philadelphia rapper Hulitho, who passed away last year. On “Fruit Salad” she proudly sings about loving her body and not changing it for anyone. On “Hungry Hippo” Whack raps about how she doesn’t need a man to give her the finer things in life because she can already afford them.

The accompanying visuals incorporate both Afrosurrealism and Afrofuturism, as juxtaposing colors tied with futuristic clothing is a dominant theme throughout her videos.The term Afrosurrealism was originally coined by poet and music critic Amiri Baraka in 1974, but the form of expression is further explained in a manifesto by D.Scot Miller in which he explains that Afrosurrealism focuses on creating a juxtaposition between images in the present day, while Afrofuturism focuses on the intersection of blackness and technology.

Much like these two philosophies, Whack’s world is not bound by conventional notions of creativity, representation, or white structures of “normalcy.” 15 scenes, from decorating a taxidermied dog to dancing with sock puppets in a pet cemetery, magically connect tales of love and loss with the desire for success and healing. It’s an affirming representation of Black womanhood, reminding listeners and viewers that we can and will feel multiple things at once. An affirmation that is important in Hip-Hop, where Black women are often sexualized, stereotyped and rarely given autonomy over their narratives. In her “Whack World,” Tierra independently creates an avenue where she has agency over her body and her image.

Whack’s “Mumbo Jumbo” was nominated for Best Music Video at this year’s Grammy awards. Her debut as a whole landed on multiple year-end music lists-NPR (ranked #10), Rolling Stone (ranked #37) and Complex (ranked #16). However the mainstream attention Tierra Whack has received doesn’t validate the quality of her music. “Whack World” would’ve still been one of 2018’s best albums without the recognition from NPR and other music outlets. However, it certainly adds another woman to a pool of women rappers who often get overshadowed by their male counterparts or the now “dead” competition between Cardi B and Nicki Minaj. Tierra Whack, with her surrealist imagery and beautiful storytelling, is setting the tone for the future of how Black women in Hip-Hop should be received in the mainstream.

The Inherent Afrofuturism of Sampling

Mtume, whose cut “Juicy Fruit” was sampled on the Notorious B.I.G hit “Juicy”

By Nadirah Simmons

Much of the conversation around Afrofuturism and how it operates within music centers the performers themselves, focusing on their fashion, instruments and lyrics. It makes sense, and is part of the reason why artists like Sun Ra, George Clinton, Parliament Funkadelic, Erykah Badu, Missy Elliott, Janelle Monae and others on a list that is far too long to write here in its entirety are positioned as the embodiments of the philosophy. This sentiment is valid, but my conclusion on how Afrofuturism presents itself not just in music, but in Hip-Hop more specifically, is an often overlooked point: how the music itself is created. If Afrofuturism is an exploration of the intersection of the African diaspora and technology, then sampling in Hip-Hop-a process in which classic cuts often made by Black Soul artists are integrated using digital hardware or software-is inherently Afrofuturistic. 

Thomas Porcello describes digital sampling as one’s ability to encode a fragment of sound, from one to several seconds in duration, in a digitized binary form which can then be stored in computer memory. He adds that “this stored sound may be played back through a keyboard, with its pitch and tonal qualities accurately reproduced or, as is often the case, manipulated through electronic editing.” That ability to store a fragment of sound in something or someone’s memory with certainty that it will be played back at a later point in time is not just central to the technical side of sampling, but also to the ears of any human who enjoys music. In fact, it is this notion that arguably makes sampling in Hip-Hop so great.

Music is characteristically communal, especially within the context of Black communities. A quick examination of the role music played in slavery to the creation of genres like Blues and Hip-Hop asserts this fact. So it should come as no surprise that my fondest childhood memories involve myself and an elder, riding around in the car listening to music and rapping or singing along to a song. But beyond rapping JAY-Z’s Reasonable Doubt word for word along with my dad and picking out tapes so I could sing the O’Jays and Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes with my Pop-Pop was the moment these two worlds meshed, the generations of my father and my father’s father.

Anyone born into my family is musical by default, and at the age of five we definitely knew the words to songs that came out when our grandparents were young. That being said, I’m not quite sure when I recognized my first sample. Nonetheless I vividly remember a younger me picking up on The Stylistics’ “Hurry Up This Way Again” in JAY-Z’s “Politics As Usual.” Ski Beatz had managed to flip a song released 16 years prior about a man longing for his lost love into a track that details both the highs and lows of hustling. Ytasha L. Womack, author of Afrofuturism: The World of Black Sci-Fi and Fantasy Culture, says that Afrofuturism can be “a total re-envisioning of the past and speculation about the future rife with cultural critiques.” Thus “Politics As Usual” is more than just JAY-Z rapping over a sample of a classic. It is also a musical representation of past, present and future. 

What gets tricky is when sampling is done not-so-well or at the disapproval of the original artist themselves. Every flip is not going to be as seamless as Mtume’s “Juicy Fruit” into the Notorious B.I.G.’s “Juicy,” and drawing upon the music of our elders without their consent can land you in court-think Leroy Hutson suing Jeezy over the sample on “Time.” Yet what cannot be denied, as author Greg Tate notes, is that “sampling is a way of collapsing all eras of music onto a chip – a digitized race memory.”

It’s hard to imagine Hip-Hop without sampling. Not only would many of our favorite songs cease to exist, but we would lose the musical borrowings that have and continue to create a lineage between Hip-Hop and older genres of Black music such as Funk, Soul and R&B. Afrofuturist music goes far beyond simply how an artist dresses, their lyrical subject matter and the tenets they practice in their daily lives. Afrofuturism takes on the role of forging a path for our future as Black people, and asserts that history should remain a part of identity, especially in the context of our race. And the inherent Afrofuturism in sampling asserts where we’ve been, where we are and that we are always going to be here.

On Missy Elliott & The Future: Why Black Girls Need Afrofuturism

by Nadirah Simmons

I was a kid when I saw it in Missy Elliott’s video for “Sock It 2 Me.” I saw it again when I watched TLC’s video for “No Scrubs.” I heard it on Brandy’s “What About Us?” But I didn’t know what to call it until college. “It," is Afrofuturism.

Historically when the future is imagined in tv, music and film it is seen through a white lens. In 2016, Vox pointed out that “only 8% of the top grossing sci-fi and fantasy films featured a protagonist of color,” half of which were played by Will Smith (‘Hancock,’ ‘I Am Legend,’ ‘Independence Day,’ ‘Men in Black’). They added that there are less than twelve Black characters in the entire Star Trek franchise. There was only one in the original Star Wars trilogy. Zero in The Jetsons. And, only one episode of what I will argue is the greatest sci-fi show of all time, The Twilight Zone, featured an all-Black principal cast.

Growing up I didn’t watch 'Phil of the Future.' Or 'Ben 10.' Or 'Star Wars: The Clone Wars.' And the sci-fi shows that I did watch, like Dexter’s Laboratory, rarely featured any Black people.

A bad precedent is set when marginalized groups are presented with depictions of the future that do not include people who look like them. And in the case of little Black girls who learn at a young age just how powerful racism and misogyny can be, visions of the future are essential.

Brandy’s Full Moon was the second album I bought with my own money (the first one was Michael Jackson’s Invincible). I was 8 years old, and remember hearing the futuristic sound crafted by clinking noises and synths and turning into the Michael Jackson meme: “I love this song!”

The video took me over the edge. Brandy was in some world where gravity didn’t exist surrounded by silvery men in chains. It was the future, and it was amazing! It didn’t take long for me to become fascinated (read: obsessed) with images of the future in music created by Black women. And these images, with all their robots, cyborg themes, android shapes and shiny metallics, weren’t hard to find.

Though the term wasn’t coined until 1994 by cultural critic Mark Dery in his essay “Black to the Future,” the first Afrofuturistic approach to music dates back to Sun Ra in the 1950s. Ra led “The Arkestra,” with whom he recorded music that drew from hard bop and modal sources, and crafted space-themed titles to reflect his connection of ancient African culture to the Space Age. The same ideas can be found in the music of George Clinton and his bands Parliament and Funkadelic.

When Dery first put a name to the philosophy, he posed questions that built the foundation for its importance:

Can a community whose past has been deliberately rubbed out, and whose energies have subsequently been consumed by the search for legible traces of its history, imagine possible futures? Furthermore, isn’t the unreal estate of the future already owned by the technocrats, futurologists, streamliners, and set designers ― white to a man ― who have engineered our collective fantasies?

For people like Sun Ra, Afrofuturism was a form of liberation, to free Black people from white supremacy. For filmmaker and author Ytasha Womack Afrofuturism is “The intersection between black culture, technology, liberation, and the imagination, with some mysticism thrown in, too.” Whatever it means for different people, one constant remains: Afrofuturism imagines a future shaped by Blackness and Black history. And for Black women it means that much more.

It is impossible to talk about Afrofuturism without talking about Missy Elliott. Her debut album ‘Supa Dupa Fly’ dropped in 1997 and was recorded and produced solely by Timbaland, whose futuristic beats, muffle ad-libs and warped effects created a sound that was quite literally out of this world. The video for the album’s first single "The Rain (Supa Dupa Fly)" found Missy sporting an inflated trash bag during a fisheye lens shot in a silvery room. “The music that we make is futuristic,” said Missy in a behind-the-scenes interview for the video. The video for "Sock It 2 Me" only confirmed this sentiment, as it placed Missy, Lil’ Kim, Da Brat and Timbaland in outer space planet hopping to flee their attackers. The video for the third single, ”Beep Me 911,” finds Missy, Magoo and 702 reimagined as robotic dolls, staggering across illuminated backgrounds reminiscent of starry skies and all I can say is yes!

Missy explores sci-fi themes in much of her work, using outer space, superpowers and other fantasy elements to create imagery rooted in a conceptualization of the time to come. Imagery of Black people that had not been seen before.

TLC’s “No Scrubs,” Blaque’s “808,” Busta Rhymes and Janet Jackson’s “What’s It Gonna Be,” Aaliyah’s “Are You That Somebody,” Erykah Badu’s “Didn’t Cha Know,” Janelle Monae’s “Q.U.E.E.N.,” the visuals are endless. And I would be lying if I said I didn’t dance in the mirror and imagine that I was in the same silvery anti-gravity cube they were in when I was a kid.

Little Black girls need Afrofuturism because we need a way to visualize a future. A future where Black women are inventors, warriors and heroes capable of anything.

DJ Goldielocks On Leaving New Orleans After Katrina, Confronting Fear And More

by Nadirah Simmons

The best part about talking to DJ Goldielocks was when she mentioned the word “tribe.” Defined as “a social division in a traditional society consisting of families or communities linked by social, economic, religious, or blood ties, with a common culture and dialect,” there’s no doubt how important tribes are to creatives, especially when they are Black and women. For Goldielocks, a tribe that supports, encourages and uplifts its members is all she can be around. And it shows.

Not only did our conversation find us bonding over our disdain with how SoundCloud has evolved and our love for Megan Thee Stallion, but most importantly the desire to see us all win-from the DJs to the journalists to the hairstylists. That’s rare to hear right off the bat when talking to someone you barely know, but Goldielocks emphasized it whenever she could during our conversation.

We talked to her about her introduction to DJing, the lasting effect living in New Orleans during Hurricane Katrina has had on her, her dream person to DJ for and more.

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I’m so jealous, you’re from New Orleans and I’ve been trying to go to for years. Do you stay there?
I stay in Dallas, Fort Worth. But most of my work is in Dallas.

Well I know what the music scene is like down there. How did it influence you musically?
I can speak to what it was like when I was there. When I was younger everybody used to be at the block party t-popping-that’s tootsie popping. And I remember hearing Big Freedia and hearing Magnolia Shorty and hearing DJ Jubilee and being excited. I met Juvenile for the first time when I was six or seven after the Second Line. But the musical scene down there is so diverse and different. It’s literally gumbo, a little bit of jazz, a little bit of Hip-Hop, a little bit of bounce, a little bit of blues.

[Laughs] Yes to the gumbo!
And while my mom is from New Orleans my dad is from Mobile, Alabama. So I had diverse music in my upbringing. My mom hipped me to India Arie and Kanye and OutKast. I used to think she could’ve been a DJ because she hipped me to so much.

When did you move to Texas?
I went through Katrina. I don’t like to call myself a refugee, I call myself a survivor because I’m a citizen of this country. After Katrina they put us on a plane and we didn’t know where we were going and we ended up in Fort Smith, Arkansas. From there my mom was a traveling nurse at the time so she was able to go to Little Rock for an assignment and then to Dallas, and we stayed with one of her friends for a year and then she sent for us.

You were so young. And I think as a kid from up north who was young when it happened, a lot of people like me forget how deadly Katrina was. And how damaged the community still is. 
We were in the convention center, and my mom just started going back two years ago. Katrina was fifteen years ago. I could’ve lost my mother. When she was going to WalMart she had to get some food to feed her kids-she had me and my cousins…As a twelve year old I saw dead fetuses. I had to move a dead body. I’ve had to use the bathroom outdoors. And not being able to take a bath for days. Getting ran over by a stampede of people. All at twelve. But that’s my story and I tell it, it’s only fuel for the fire. 

When did you get your start in DJing? 
I was really into Slim K and Rob Gallardo. They have this mixtape series Purple Children. I had started listening to it and I thought it was so dope. I went into the music and listened to the transitions and how they would chop stuff. I was like man I want to do this.

I was working at Waffle House over the summer between semesters and one of the popular DJs was a regular, Captain Charles. I started telling him I wanted to be a DJ and he told me he had a couple of boards he wasn’t using and that he would bring them to me. A week or two later he came with it.

I took it home and the first song I ever chopped was “Say Yes” by Floetry.

What? I need to hear that!
It’s locked away on SoundCloud. It’s horrible [laughs]. After that I would DJ in my room, people would try to get me gigs on campus and I was nervous. I didn’t start DJing in the public until this year when I moved to Fort Worth.

What was holding you back before?
Fear. Fear of failing. I never wanted to go out in front of a crowd and fuck up.

What is the environment like in Fort Worth and Dallas?
Nobody’s double crossed me, everybody genuinely wants to see everybody win.

Do you remember your worst DJ experience?
Yes. It was on my birthday. I arrived and the people didn’t have anything set up and they were giving attitudes. I ended up not playing until 30 minutes into the event. But it was whatever, what happened was after the event was over. I had to drive back to Dallas to get my check. They didn’t pay me that night.

What does making it look like for you?
Making it means not worrying about where my next check is coming from. I want to be happy. I wan’t my family to be good. I want those around me to eat. And I want to be a DJ for an artist one day.

Do you have an artist in mind?
I don’t know if Ari Lennox needs a DJ but I will deadass abandon everything [laughs]. If Mac was still here I would’ve loved to work with Mac.

Aw you are about to make me cry. That guy was my favorite.
Swimming is it!

Roxanne Roxanne is The Best Film of 2018

by Melissa Kimble

One might forget that Roxanne Shanté was only a teenager when she changed the game. But a viewing of Roxanne Roxanne, the Netflix film about the rap powerhouse born Lolita Shanté Gooden, will remind you. The rap battle champ had been destroying her competition since childhood and by the time she was 13 she solidified her spot with “Roxanne’s Revenge.” Her story, brought to life by creative and film powerhouses Nina Yang Bongiovi and Mimi Valdés, was named one Netflix's most watched films of the year. And as the first biopic to center a female rapper and tell her incredible story through an incredible cast, Roxanne Roxanne is the best movie of 2018. Period.

The movie is a necessary piece of music history. From the door knockers to the matching fur coats for couples to the spray painted shirts, the style of the 80s is on full display. Add this to the makeup of the families and communities in the Queensbridge Houses, and the film gives viewers a full mirror look at “the Golden era of Hip-Hop.” Without a doubt, Shanté’s indelible mark on the industry is still felt today, every time your favorite rappers take shots at each other. Just as JJ Fad opened the door for NWA, Roxanne Shante opened the door for rap battles as we know them today. The film takes you through her journey, explaining why the pioneer’s star didn’t shine as bright as one would’ve hoped due to issues with money and managers in the industry.

Beyond this, the cast provides a stellar and sturdy foundation for an important story. In her first role, newcomer Chante Adams, is undeniable as Roxanne Shanté. Although she was born after this historic era, Chante delivers the tenacity and passion of the young rapper with ease and a strong on screen presence. “I think Chanté was born for the part. Her parents made her for me,” the real Shanté told the New York Times. The weight of carrying the role of a Hip-Hop legend is grounded by two legends in their own right - Nia Long and Mahershala Ali.

Considered by DJ Booth as “the most Hip-Hop man in Hollywood”, Mahershala is heartbreakingly evil as Cross, the older drug dealer that Shanté falls in love with. However their relationship turns sour when it becomes abusive. Mahershala masterfully plays the antagonist - gracefully evil, cool and demanding. It’s equally as delightful to see Nia Long shine as Shante’s mother - full of depth, grit, and a rawness. Thus, it should come as no surprise that Long had a connection to Roxanne.

“I was singing her records in the bathroom mirror with my braces, bangs, ponytail and red lipstick,” she told the Times. “You never know how things that shaped your life as a girl will come back and reshape your life.”

The Roxanne Shanté story also finds our hero navigating sexual advances from men and addressing the physical abuse she endured at the hands of her lover. This isn’t your average coming-of-age story. This also isn’t permission for you to feel sorry for her. The beauty in this film is that it presents Black girls and Black women in a way that doesn’t celebrate our pain but instead highlights our resilience. And in the midst of the #MeToo movement, founded in 2006 by Tarana Burke, the movie tells her story through the lens of power, not weakness. She knew who she was from an early age and despite the struggles stood up for herself. And in a year where rap beefs have been crazy (see Cardi vs. Nicki), it’s great to see the one of the originators, a 13-year-old girl who out-rapped grown men, finally getting her flowers with Roxanne Roxanne. Roxanne Shanté inspires us to never stay silent. Here’s to more of our stories seeing the light.

Melissa Kimble, who splits her time between Chicago and Brooklyn, is a writer, digital strategist, and founder of #blkcreatives, a collective that advocates for Black genius across across Creative industries.

This One’s For The Ladies

by DeMicia Inman

I, like many women, attend parties, kickbacks, and other celebratory events. Which means I am no stranger to that moment when the DJ proclaims: “This one’s for the ladies,” right before dropping a song by a man. The broadcast is typically followed by Drake’s “Nice For What,” Juvenile’s “Back That Azz Up” or another slow jam of some sort.

DJs who play Hip-Hop, R&B and other urban contemporary artists might not mean any ill will when their music selections are songs mostly by men. Their focus is on playing the hottest tracks, which means men will be played because, like in many aspects of life, contributions by women are overlooked due to misogyny and patriarchy. And that’s not to say women can’t or don’t enjoy rap music by men-we can and do. But I believe no artist celebrates women like other women.

Gender plays a huge role in how a song’s content is received. Rappers might have similar themes in their songs, but the difference in the way each track is interpreted by listeners can be attributed to the artist, more specifically their race, sex, class, gender and more. So it’s no surprise that a woman rapping certain lyrics is more empowering than if they were rapped by a man.

Take Cardi B’s hit “Bodak Yellow” for example. The track interpolates the flow on Kodak Black’s  “No Flockin,” and both songs find them rapping about the power of money. While “No Flockin” peaked at No. 95 on Billboard’s Hot 100,  Cardi B’s “Bodak Yellow“ made history, reaching No. 1 and earning Grammy nominations. The commercial success of Cardis cut was aided by her vibrant personality shown on reality television and social media, encouraging women to root for and support an artist who’s real and that they relate to. Kodak on the other hand, whose song still gets spins at parties and has a hefty 165 million views on YouTube, turned off listeners with his comments on women with darker skin and his first-degree criminal sexual conduct charges. And too often for Black women loving rap music often means reconciling blatant disrespect with a banging beat. Yet while Cardi B’s songs get played, she’s one of only a few women receiving their much deserved shine.

From a young age, I rapped along to Salt N Pepa and learned every Queen Latifah verse. With age, this catalog grew to include Trina, Eve, Diamond, and Princess of Crime Mob fame, and other adolescent favorites. I watched and the adult women in my life stood in the mirror, singing along to Missy Elliott, Foxy Brown and Lil Kim, basking in the power of black womanhood. And today my pregame playlists shuffle between Rico Nasty, Megan Thee Stallion, LightSkinKeisha and more women deserving of play beyond my personal Bluetooth speaker. Adding more women to party sets and playlists creates room for women to excel in an industry dominated by men-as rappers, singers, producers and engineers. And all of these voices should be championed everywhere, including bars and clubs.

A party ain’t a party until women run through and it’s time for the sound to match.

Four Songs That'll Make You Groove And Leave You Hungry

By Chanté Griffin

Good music will cause you to smile and dance without thinking. So will good food. Just in time for the holidays, here are songs from our favorite artists that’ll make you groove and leave you reaching for a plate of food.

“Soul Food” - Good Mob

Goodie Mob’s “Soul Food” reminds us how soul food got its name. The group raps about the comfort that soul food provides: respite from discrimination and embrace in a world that constantly tries to keep us down.

Soul food is the art of turning nothing into something delicious, of transforming racism’s leftovers into a delectable feast.

Fast food got me feeling sick
Them crackers think they slick
By trying to make this bullshit affordable
I thank the Lord that my voice was recordable

In contrast, soul food is portrayed as the food that nurtures the mind, body, and soul:

A heaping helping of fried chicken
Macaroni and cheese and collard greens
Too big for my jeans
Smoke steams from under the lid that's on the pot
Ain't never had a lot but thankful for
The little that I got why not be

Somber yet uplifting, the song boasts a steady beat and a heavy bass. You can’t help but nod your head in agreement. It’s the type of song you play when you’re driving home from work after a trying day, or after you’ve heard about another racist incident: the police being called on a black girl trying to sell lemonade or on black folks just trying to barbecue. The song reminds you that somebody’s got your back—an uncle, cousin, mama, or auntie. When you get home, somebody will have a plate ready for you.

Come and get yo' soul food, well well
Good old-fashioned soul food, all right
Everythang is for free
As good as it can be
Come and get some soul food

“Collard Greens & Cornbread” - Fantasia

Is anybody’s love better than yo’ mama’s collard greens and cornbread? What about her sweet potato pie? According to R&B songstress Fantasia, the love that she’s found ranks right up there with her mama’s best dishes.

Sampling Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell’s “Your Precious Love,” this song finds Fantasia belting out praise for the one who’s making her so crazy in love. With her unique, gospel-infused singing style, Fantasia proclaims:

I ain't gonna lie
Boy you got me out of my mind
in L-O-V-E
I go crazy when you love me
Got me acting a mess
Even got the nerve to say I'm better than my momma
Collard greens and cornbread yeah
Collard greens and cornbread yeah

Her longing for this man is so potent it makes you question the type of love she’s singing about: Is it THAT good or is it dysfunctional? Either way, it makes you hungry for a side of greens and cornbread.

“Cornbread Fish & Collard Greens” - Anthony Hamilton

Whereas Fantasia romanticizes the soul food analogy, Anthony Hamilton explicitly sexualizes it. His song introduces us to a woman who stands confidently in her sexuality. To satisfy her, Hamilton knows he’s gotta come with a full buffet: cornbread, fish, and collard greens. He serenades her:

Cornbread, fish, and collard greens
I got what you need
If you want it (cause I'm pimp, girl)
If you want it (I'm a pimp, girl)

Although I would have hoped that all artists would have outgrown using the word “pimp” in their lyrics by now, the word’s connotations weaken because he’s slinging “food” and because he gives the woman a choice:

If you want it
If you want it

Hamilton makes it clear that she is the one ultimately in control.

The upbeat tempo boasts a strong beat and bassline that invites you to rock your pelvis back to front, side to side. Hamilton sings with the swag of a man with who is certain that he has what we need. And by the end of the song, I’m hungry. I’m swinging my hips back and forth, snaking my body, and admitting—yes, yes I do want your cornbread, fish and collard greens.

“Family Reunion” - Jill Scott

Jill Scott’s “Family Reunion” is a mid-tempo celebration of food and family that compels you to tap your feet and bob your head.

Scott poetically paints the picture of her family gathering for its reunion. There’s the typical drama: family secrets, spats, and folks in recovery. But what cements them together, besides the bonds of family, is the food. Scott sings:

Neicey made her famous potato salad, somehow it turns out green
Maybe it's all the scallions, could be the celery
But oh, Uncle Jerome loves it

This description of Neicey’s potato salad reminds me of my mom’s potato salad that I can’t get enough of: mounds of potatoes mixed with eggs, scallions, and celery, meshed with mayo and sweet pickle relish. Uncle Jerome’s celebration of that imperfect salad reminds me of family’s willingness to embrace us through most anything.

Oh shit, Damn Micky and Steven are fightin' again
Move out the way, somebody might get hurt
Aw look at that what happen is worst
They knocked over Helenora's Lemon Cake (Em)
You know the one she barely ever makes
I'm gettin' rilled up, I want them to go
But Somebody turn Frankly Beverly on the stereo
Cousin Ruby starts rockin', shaker her good hip and bottom
So we all fall into place, smiling and laughing

Despite the scuffle and the loss of the cake, all is good. There’s always enough food and love prepared.

So grab a plate, turn up the music, and groove.

Our Twitter Chat With Yan Snead

by Nadirah Simmons

A week ago we hosted our very first live Twitter chat with Yan Snead, a woman making major plays in the field. She is the Communications & Digital Strategy Manager at the Katal Center for Health, Equity, & Justice by day, Editor of Dinner Land Network and Digital Strategist for Chase N. Cashe’s brand “Can’t Buy Respect.” She’s a Jack of all trades with an indelible ear for music and she’ll definitely argue Dom Kennedy’s greatness to the death.

Throughout the conversation we talked about the importance of Hip-Hop culture, self-preservation in the often draining business that is entertainment and navigating male-dominated workspaces. The conversation was so good that we here at The Gumbo decided to share all of the gems in an article for everyone to read. Check out the gems below.

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What did your introduction to the media industry look like? 
Podcast About Nothing, 2015. To be honest I’ve been writing and blogging since tumblr came about, but I didn’t REALLY get into the mix until @JamarMDickson threw me into it. We used to interview artists, media personalities, and entrepreneurs within the music community it’s actually wild how far I’ve managed to get in three years. But what worked for me was being extremely personable, connecting with whoever no matter how popular or unpopular they were/are, & asserting myself. I never wait on opportunities, I just did & still do whatever speaks to me.

The media and entertainment industries are without a doubt boys clubs, much like many other fields. What are some challenges you face as a woman? How do you navigate male-dominated workspaces? 
Two things actually. The biggest challenges I face are one, maneuvering through genuine interest in connecting and building versus “you poppin’, I’m going to act like your friend so you’ll promo my shit.” And two, dealing with male egos. I’ve come across a handful of men that are intimidated by my upward progression and attempt to block plays or take credit for my strategies. But as @OloriSWANK said, I could show you my hand and I’ll still win.

You described Hip-Hop as an umbrella under which music exists alongside language, fashion and more. How do you feel about its current state? 
Hip-Hop influences everything. Black Culture is pop culture. As far as hip-hop music, it’s a LOT of quality shit out there. The cliché answer would be “it’s in shambles, we praising too much goofy shit,” but there’s a lot of quality artists and music in circulation. Hip hop is alive and well, and if you believe otherwise it’s a reflection of the goofy shit and wack music you personally entertain.

Having so many different jobs can take a toll on one’s emotional wellbeing and mental health. What do you do to practice self care?
You have to take time to feed your spirit. For me that looks like reading books, listening to podcasts, having conversations about life/business with good friends, sometimes it’s totally isolating myself because I NEED me time, and other times it’s surrounding myself with love.

Some people champion having a seat at the table. Others champion building their own. What do these two statements mean to you, and how have they influenced your career decisions?
When I first started out, honestly the only  thing I was sweating was a seat at the table, but that was before I recognized my value and influence. Now I understand the value in knowing how to be a guest at a table & the importance in building your own. Need that balance.

I think our generation doesn’t pay enough attention to all the helping hands the greats received by being guests at someone’s table so that when they built their own it would be solid. You can’t do shit alone in any industry, ESPECIALLY not media/music. and what I’ll close that thought with, like I always say, while you’re at the table, you better be inspiring, teaching, plugging and giving back just like someone did for you to be able to sit there.

You can only take on project from this year into 2019. Which one are you picking and why?So we gon’ talk about the production quality, endless game dropping and replay value on Victory Lap or nah? Album of the year.

You get to executive produce an album and you’re choosing two rappers and producer. Who are you picking and why?
@Lowcollege and @DOPEITSDOM. I’ve always wanted to executive producing a Dom project, that’s my favorite rapper, real ones know. & Joe College the best thing out of Jersey. 

As far as the producer, y’all know I was always choosing my right hand @ChaseNCashe. He laces everything.

Who are some women in Hip-Hop that you look up to and appreciate? 
The women that I admire & appreciate are @vashtie, @erinasimon, @BreaSimone, @hinadirah, Ethiopia Habtemariam, @DJMissMilan, @jamisaaa, @BiancaEnRogue, @IvyLikeBlu, @theKYingredient, @TheKaiMiller, @viasimone_, @__KCarter__, man its a bunch of y’all.

What advice would you give your 10-year-old self? 
Stop comparing yourself, they ain’t you and you don’t want to be them. You’re special and people will see it when they need to.

Boston Chery Talks Healing People Through Music And The Importance of Support

by Nadirah Simmons

Boston Chery stands out from the crowds for many reasons. For one, her aesthetic is that of a 90’s fan, but not the kind that simply reposts pictures of our favorite artists of the time. Instead, Chery has a deep respect for the artistry and the culture that manifests in her DJ sets and her personality, through which she shares her love for nostalgia and appreciation for the cultural pioneers before her-Mary J. Blige, Busta Rhymes, Brandy and Diddy to name a few. That was where we bonded.

But what struck me during our conversation was when she revealed that she rarely drinks or smokes. “Maybe four times a year,” she said over the phone. Instead, she prefers to let music heal her and get her through tough times, the same way a glass of wine or weed would for someone else. It’s not a knock, it’s just how she maneuvers. Music is her vice.

We talked to her about her introduction to DJing, the healing nature of music and the freeing environment that exists within queer party spaces.

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Where did you get the name Boston Chery?
I came to New York from Massachusetts and I back then I had a super heavy Boston accent. There was this girl would call me “Boston” all the time and my last name was Chery, so that’s how I put my name together. 

When did you start DJing?
I started about eight years ago, when I was 19. Music was always with me, I actually linked up with a friend from elementary school out in Crown Heights and his mom told me I had a really good ear and that I should get into DJing. So I did. 

I was going through your social media pages and I saw a large 90’s influence.
One, I’m a 90’s baby. Two, nostalgia heals. We’re in a time where people are talking about their feelings and their mental state, and with music I’ve always wanted to heal. I’ve always wanted to bring that vibe where people make that stank face that reminds you of a song you haven’t heard in a while…Good feelings, that’s all that I’m about. Bringing good feelings to the dance floor.

I find music to be therapeutic and healing. How has it done that for you personally?
I was going back and forth between Boston and New York a lot as a child, just to different family members. Music was my escape, it made me feel good, it gave me a foundation and hope. A sense of security and a sense of belonging. Music is very spiritual to me.

How does your music taste shine through in your sets, because you have such an eclectic palate. 
I just go with I’m feeling at the moment or what the crowd is feeling, and then I make sure I play a little something for everyone. I don’t believe in bad music, I believe in something being relatable or not relatable. And then I put a little nostalgia and culture in it, and I’m a West Indian girl so I have to throw that in.

I want to switch gears a little bit, tell me your best DJ experience?
I have a lot! Could I give a top 3? The Joy, Brooklyn Boyhood and Remarkable, they have a party during the summertime for the queer crowd. I was the first person to open up during Pride weekend and it was crazy! I also did a collab party that weekend too…can I do two more? And I did another queer party in Oakland, the vibes were like Brooklyn vibes. And DJing with KAYTRANADA in Montreal.

Wait! How you gonna put that one last [laughs]. How did that come together?
Ha! It was a few years ago, I was going in order! But I was signed to this agency and they put me on the Osheaga Festival.

I want to go back to what you said about the different types of party spaces. Whenever I go to parties that are predominantly queer they’re always a tad better than cis and straight spaces [laughs].
I think what it is, too many people are trying to maintain a persona. And I feel like [for some] queer people they’ve been upholding a person their entire lives. To be queer is to be free and finally free. To be finally free is just not giving a f*ck. I have a lot of straight friends that come to my queer events and they always say how no one dances at these other events. It’s about dancing and turning up and meeting good people. 

One thing I saw on your Instagram page is that you spun at Museum of Sex for an event supporting sex workers. I was inspired by that because conversations around sex work need to happen. How did you end up DJing there?
I was actually reached out to by one of the curators who works there. I had spun at a party before and there were a few sex workers there, and it had opened my eyes. I was inspiring by their stories and I wanted to show love and support to sex workers and have the information to be able to educate people and also tell people that they have to respect everyone.

What does making it look like for you?
Being free and creating with whoever, whenever. Not having to worry about bills and traveling the world without worrying about finances. And healing people with music. I also want to inspire more women to produce and more women to DJ.

Is your family supportive of your career path?
I’m West Indian, I’m Haitian. So you already know I was supposed to be a nurse a long time ago. In the beginning [my mom] didn’t understand it, but my fourth year of DJing I was walking in SoHo from work and she said “I don’t know what it is, but I feel like deep down you’re going to make it big and I want to let you know I support you and love you.”

Bianca Chase On DJing And How She Became The “Alternative Hoodrat”

by Nadirah Simmons

Bianca Chase’s Instagram name is Alternativehoodrat, and it falls in line perfectly with the Brooklyn-bred artist. Bianca can do it all, from jewelry designing, rapping and photography to art curation, fashion designing and DJing.  

We talked to Bianca about their relationship with New York, the stress that comes with presentation and how the internet helped breed the “alternative hoodrat.”

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What makes Brooklyn different from the other boroughs in New York?
We’re really diverse, and I feel like sometimes we don’t really realize it. It’s a melting pot and people bring their energy and their art and we adopt it.

I read one of your other interviews and you said you have a love/hate relationship with New York. Why is that?
I got bullied a lot as a child. The things that people used to pick on me about are the things people love about me now, and it’s trauma. It makes me feel a way because this is the environment I grew up in. Then I go to other states and people like it, but when I’m home people pick on me about my lips and stuff. 

I love that you mention that, especially being fellow a bald-headed person-I remember when I shaved all of it off and everyone was not happy.
Same, I had to let it all go. I kept my hair because everyone around me wants me to have hair. But I was like I’m not happy, it makes me uncomfortable, it’s was a weight on my shoulders. And when I shaved it off I was like “wow!”

Same! I had this big afro and everyone was like “don’t do it!”
That’s real. But who is going to braid this for me? Who is going to detangle it?

Ha! But you know what? That’s so good for younger Black people. To be reminded to be multidimensional and to do whatever you want with whatever, even if it’s starting with your hair.
Right! There’s more than one way to be and ways you can be. 

You yourself are also a multifaceted artist. A quick glance at your Instagram shows that you have your hand in a lot of things. How has the internet helped your career?
The internet grew me. When I saw alternative stuff I realized I want to dress gothic, I want to wear platforms..I [also] realized what you can and can’t put on the internet. I notice that when I’m sad or angry my work doesn’t share as well, and when you’re in drama and people peep it they see you in a certain way. And I’ve worked really hard to get out of that negative space. But I’m just like I am on the internet as I am in person.

When did you get into DJing?
I’ve always really loved music. I’ve always loved certain tunes and the sounds that were a part of songs. I asked my father to buy me this synthesizer in 2014, my junior/senior year in high school.

What songs are you playing at a function to set the mood and then get everybody hype?
“Sticky” by Ravyn Lenae and to get hype? Asian Doll’s “GUMMO” remix.

What advice would you give your younger self?
I would have told myself to be a little bit more patient and consistent with my art. I would’ve told myself to be more prepared and not to get caught up in the fck sh*t.

What do you mean by fck sh*t?
When I was younger I was trouble maker! But I also got bullied a lot so I was very paranoid-from elementary school until the year I graduated middle school, and then when I got to high school I didn’t talk to people. And if I did talk I wasn’t very nice.

If you could pick one song or one artist as the soundtrack to your life who or what would it be and why?
Steve Lacy, “Looks.” That’s my mood right now.

DJ 9AM On The Origin of Her Name, Her Worst DJ Experience And The Male Ego

by Nadirah Simmons

I’ll never forget one of the first parties I attended in New York. It was my first summer here, and I was excited to partake in what everyone from the city proclaimed to be the “best time of the year.” My function of choice? A “4 Lovers Only” party at SOB’s, where the bill promised a sponsored one hour open bar and 90’s R&B music all night. To this day it remains one of the greatest parties I’ve been to, because of the music, specifically DJ 9AM’s set.

You have to love a DJ who doesn't go from “Poison” to “This Is How We Do It” to “No Scrubs” when it’s time to play 90’s R&B. Don’t get me wrong, they’re all great. But when someone spins those deep cuts that aren’t not everybody’s you have to respect it. The crowd and I did, for sure. Everyone was dancing for the entirety of her set, not to mention the few men who were professing their love for her in front of the stage. Yes, I’m serious.

Yet DJ9AM was cool as ever, maintaining a crowd control and confidence that I had never seen before. Thus talking to her was exciting, because she not only loves the art form that is DJing, but she’s got the vibe and the music taste a girl you’d want to be friends with-I was hype when she told me Smino is one of her favorite artists too.

We chatted about how she got her name, what happened the one time she couldn’t play “Meek Mill” at a party and the problem that is the male ego.

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Where did your name come from?
Nine was a playful nickname back in the day that my friends gave me. And the initials to my real name are “AM,” Angel Monique. So I put them together and it sounded good! It has nothing to do with time [laughs].

How did you get your start in DJing?
Six years ago when I first moved to New York-I moved to Harlem. I used to work at this bar where I met one of my homegirls, and her and I decided to throw an event. Nobody knew me then so it wasn’t this big event and it ended up being practice for me.

At this very same bar they threw a Hip-Hop night and DJ Kool Herc and DJ Scratch came through...DJ Scratch got on the turntables and I was like “oh my god!” Then I spoke to him, told him I was a DJ and asked him if he had any pointers for me. He said yeah and said he would give me a lesson. So he had a studio in Brooklyn and he gave me a lesson there. It was so dope.

That’s honestly crazy as hell [laughs].
Right? It was a sign.

Indeed. Are you originally from New York?
Nah, I’m from Las Vegas!

Oh wow! What was growing up over there like? Did it influence your decision to become a DJ?
Yeah, it’s one of the biggest entertainment cities ever. Living there allowed me to see how successful you can be within this career. At the time I didn’t like the music that they played in Vegas clubs. They played a lot of Hip-Hop but they played a lot of EDM. I didn’t appreciate that type of music until I moved [to New York]. So now I’m into House, EDM and Hip-Hop as well.

And Vegas really showed me that a DJ is also an artist.

I love that you mentioned them being artists. I’ve asked many of the DJs I’ve talked to about their feelings towards people who don’t participate in it as an art form. They plug their phone or laptop in and think that makes them a DJ.
I feel like they’re doing it for the wrong reasons. If you don’t really get into the craft and learn how to DJ-I feel like they’re doing it for the wrong reasons. They’re doing it for the clout and it’s just a hustle for them. And if that’s your hustle I respect that. But you can only go so far with that. At some point in your career you’re going to be tested and the truth is going to come out. There are some events where you can be an aux cord DJ, but you can’t rock a club doing that.

What has your branding process been like? Walk me through it.
It’s one of the more difficult things, because a lot of time people want you to be who they want you to be. If you go outside of that people will ask what you’re doing. I just try to stay true to myself and as genuine as I can.

How important has social media been?
Social media is like the new business card. Some people might not even hit you up, they’ll look at your Instagram instead of asking for your EPK. 

I go back and forth with it because I realize how important it is, but a part of me hates that it is very important. There are so many DJs and people want that total package. You can’t just be a good DJ, people also want a certain vibe at their party and they can pick that up off of your Instagram.

Instagram actually introduced me to your podcast “Breakfast at 9am.” Tell me a little about that. 
I really wanted to show people my personality another side of me outside of my mixes, and I thought a podcast would be perfect.

Do you find your podcast and DJing to be therapeutic for you?
Yes! They take me into a different world that allows me to express myself freely. Being able to do that and being able to create, that’s therapeutic in itself. If you see me out I don’t really talk too much and I’m not the most social person. All of these creative outlets are a way for people get to know me.

I love when women have that outlet. Sometimes we don’t have the spaces to let things out so when you do you cherish them.
Very important. It keeps me sane.

Has it been hard for you as a woman in the industry?
It’s hard being a woman period. Especially when you’re first starting out people don’t expect you to be good because you’re a woman. Like I’ve had someone come behind the booth to see if I’m really playing!

Wait, what?
Yes! I’ve had hosts come and mess with the knobs-I notice they only do that to certain women. I’ve noticed as women some of our biggest obstacles in the industry are men. Period. And their egos.

I agree. Where do you think that stems from? Are they intimidated or envious of women being good at what they do?
I think it comes from a hateful place. Women are getting booked a lot, and they don’t like it because they think we’re getting booked just because we’re women. They’ll think we’re using our sex appeal to get booked or we’re flirting with some dude who might like us to get booked…At the end of the day it’s more than posting a sexy picture on Instagram. We’re out here in the field really grinding. The girls who are getting booked, we’re not just sitting on our a** waiting for someone to someone to book us. Like nah. Work harder. And we have to keep working hard.

What’s the worst thing that’s happened to you while you were DJing a party?
Oh my god! I was playing at this bar uptown in Harlem, and the owners didn’t want me to play a lot of trap and Hip-Hop. They wanted me to play world and Afrobeat music to keep away a certain crowd. One night I was playing and these girls came up to me and they were like: “You don’t have no fcking Meek Mill, you a whack a** DJ!” I was like I got it but I can’t play it like that. I was trying to tell them it wasn’t my fault.

Long story short, I ended up calling for security over the mic because they were distracting. And then they got mad and started swinging on me! One girl contacted and I had to back up and come from behind the table…I literally got into a fight with two girls because I didn’t play Meek Mill.

It goes back to being a woman. If I was a man and told them I couldn’t do it they might’ve gone on with their night. But because I’m a woman and I’m petite they thought they could do that.

That’s wild as hell. But you’re not wrong about that part.
Mhm, crazy.

In your eyes, what does “making it” look like?
I feel like when you are able to survive financially and fully off of your craft you’ve made it. One of my goals is to go back to Las Vegas and have a major residency there. Also to get my show on a higher platform because I really enjoy it. And to be able to travel and play.

Would you ever want to tour with an artist? And who?
Absolutely! That’s one of my biggest goals. Definitely Jean Deaux, I think she’s really dope. I feel like our vibes are similar and I would love to go on tour with her.

What advice would you give your 10-year-old self?
It’s okay to be confident in everything that you do. I would enforce confidence because it everything. It dictates your whole life and everything you do. Don’t let that first dude hit [laughs].

Yo! You’re funny as hell!
Ha! And I would tell myself not to waste time […] and to listen to my father.

Listen to her podcast and mix below.

Naquai On Why DJing Never Feels Like A Job Or Work

by Nadirah Simmons

When asked what advice she would give her 10-year-old self, Naquai opened about the importance of embracing her creativity. She says that she feels like she wasted some years trying to figuring out if she creative enough to be a DJ, going to college and then dropping out in the process. She believed she was going to be a doctor or work in someone’s office, and now she’s spun everywhere from the hottest parties in New York to in Miami at Rolling Loud.

We talked to her about the art of DJing, the key to keeping the crowd engaged and proving people wrong in the industry.

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Where are you from? 
I was born in Belgium but raised on the Upper West Side of Manhattan.

How has your environment influenced your love for music?
I think growing up in the time that I did, the early 2000s, and being super close with my family helped to influence my love for music. In my opinion some of the best music was put out in the years I was born and growing up. Along with the fact my parents were really into 80's and 90's Hip Hop & R&B. My mom would wake up and blast Mary J Blige when she was cleaning or my dad would sing along to Tony! Toni! Tonè! during car rides. Thats really where the appreciation began for me.

What did your start in DJing look like? Why did you decide to take this path?
My start in DJing was slow in the beginning. I had to save up to get my first controller which was a big deal for me because I had horrible saving habits and I used to come home from work and practice mixes every chance I got. Luckily through my management I was able to get some really great exposure pretty early on and I'm super thankful for that.

As far as why I decided to take this path, it was sort of like a build up for me-starting off with my appreciation and love for music, being around other DJs I really looked up to and respected and seeing I can do it myself. Then what really did it for me […] every time I went out to a party or event I was feeling like I could play a better set than the DJs that were booked. I guess that finally pushed me to be like "Alright, that’s it, I’m doing this.” 

DJing is an art form, and a lot of people think they can just grab a phone, a laptop and an aux cord and be a DJ. How do you feel about people who think this makes them a DJ?
I don't think [those] things make you a DJ at all, but that’s where it starts and you can get your practice on one of the most important skills: song selection. If you see people rocking out every time you have the aux that’s awesome, but taking the time and dedication to learn the many other skills along with having a real passion for the art is what makes you a DJ.

Was it hard for you to create a unique style that differentiates you from other DJs?
Not really. When I was living in LA and throwing my own parties I really came to appreciate and kind of obsess over this “SoundCloud rap” that other DJs were playing out there. They were finding underground songs that the mainstream didn’t know about and [playing] that throughout the whole party.

I loved that style because I absolutely hate songs that you can hear no matter what club or party you go to. Its cliche to a point. So I paired that love for SoundCloud rap with my vast knowledge of 90's Hip Hop and R&B and it’s worked pretty well for me so far.

How does your music taste shine through in your sets? What songs would you play in a set to get the crowd hype?
Every set is different for me because I'm always going off of the crowd I'm DJing for. I never plan my sets or even think about them before hand because it gives me anxiety. Right now depending on the crowd I could probably play “Lean For Real” by Playboi Carti and get people goin the way I want them to or I might throw on Tommy Wright III “Runnin-N-Gunnin” or even some old Three 6 Mafia. 

How important is social media to your brand? Do you think social media plays a negative or positive role in the careers of entertainers?
Of course in 2018 social media is important to any brand. I have a love/hate relationship with it because I think there’s some good to it but I also feel like theres more bullsh*t that comes with it as well. I'm trying my best right now to find a good balance of social media and my real life. I try to only post my gigs and any promotion for them and less selfies [laughs].

But as far as entertainers go I feel like it plays a pretty positive role as far as a fanbase. [It] allows you to build a fanbase and gain respect and followers by just doing your job. I really appreciate when people come up to me saying how much they fuck with my set and ask if they can follow me [after I’m done DJing]. It’s a cool feeling and it makes it super easy to connect with people. 

Have you faced any challenges as a woman DJ?
As a woman in the beginning people doubted my skills, especially since I'm not some “hard looking” DJ over here scratching my heart away. But honestly I feel like once people started giving me a chance and started listening to me play it hasn't been so hard and I've been getting compliments for my sets more than anything.

I know that as my career continues I'll come across more people that doubt my skill just because I'm a woman but my goal is to keep proving them wrong. 

What’s an unspoken DJ rule that every DJ knows?
I mean I feel like the most important one-that people don't always follow-is don't break your flow. If you see the crowd turning up don't play a song that would even have a chance of making them turn back down. People love having a reason to walk outside and smoke a blunt or a cigarette but don't give that to them! 

What does “making it” look like for you?
Being financially stable and being able to travel the world all from of DJing. DJing never feels like my job or work. It’s the most fun I've ever experienced in my life. So as I watch people break their necks at jobs they hate just to make ends meet, I know I'd be super blessed to be able to pay my bills, own some property and travel all off of something I consider fun. 

How Working At Barnes & Noble Helped Turn Quin Into A DJ

by Nadirah Simmons

When we asked Quin what advice she would give to her younger self, she answered quickly: “Hone in on the things that you enjoy the most because it will eventually pay off and work harder at those things.” Nothing has ever been truer, and the DJ that is Quin is a testament.

Coming out of New Jersey, she’s armed with a library of musical knowledge that would rival that of the biggest music head in your corner. Now she’s settled into her role as a DJ, putting out mixes online and spinning at clubs with the hopes of one day traveling the world.

We talked to Quin about how she got her start, the questions you should stop asking DJs at events and making sure her brand is a reflection of herself.

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Where are you from and who influenced your taste in music?
I’m originally from Queens, New York, but whenever I claim that people get pissed [laughs]. I’m really from Burlington, New Jersey. I would say my parents mostly influenced my taste in music. When I was young they were big tape and CD collectors, and when I got my first walkman I would always grab stuff from their collection.

It’s always good when your parents put you on. How does their influence manifest in your DJ sets?
Well due to my extensive knowledge [laughs], I try to put people on. You could hear a New Jack Swing set and there are the typical songs that everybody knows like “Poison.” But then you can throw a different song in there that has a similar vibe.

When did you actually start DJing?
At Barnes & Noble. My coworker, who would DJ on the side, would bring a mini controller to work and I would mess around with it. Then when I would hear DJs mix on the radio or at events I would say “oh that’s nice” but in my head I knew I could do better. I was talking all of this crap so I knew I had to try.

How long ago was this?
I started messing around with DJ software in high school. I started DJing fully in 2015/2016.

Is it to create your own unique style and make yourself stand out?
I’m still developing my sound since I’m fairly new. I try to observe a lot of other people as well as get creative when I do things and try to create things I haven’t heard before.

Yes! I love when I go to a party and the DJ ends up putting me on. What songs are you spinning when there’s a really chill vibe at a function?
I have to think, you put me on the spot! Definitely “Kaleidescope Dreams,” that’s a good vibey song and it had a good groove to it. I love Masego so I would definitely play something by him. I would say “After Dark” by Drake. And to get a little romantic, I want to play Sir, but also “Tadow” by Masego!

That’s a good mix of tracks. The last few parties I’ve been to, when it’s time to redirect the vibe of a party the DJs went from Sheck Wes to 6ix 9ine to “Lovers and Friends.” I’m like what the heck, this is whack. Stop playing the same thing!
You aren’t lying [laughs]!

So what are you playing to get everyone hype?
“Big Bank” gets everybody hype so I have to play that. I really like “Uh Uh” by Blac Youngsta. “Twerk” by City Girls is also really good.

Can I just say, “Big Bank” is my song. I told someone it was song of the summer and they looked at me like I was crazy.
You do sound really crazy I’m not gonna hold you.

Really?
Yes! I think there’s a lineup of songs, but for it to be song of the summer? No. Not happening, I disagree.

So what’s song of the summer?
“In My Feelings.”

See, here’s my thing. I feel like that’s song of the year [laughs]. And it’s Drake, he’s passed these titles. Everything he makes goes!
Okay, I feel you. Then there’s “Nice for What,” “FEFE” and let’s not forget Travis Scott’s album. “SICKO MODE” came out and the end of the summer.

Where do you discover most of your music and new artists?
I have a burner account where I follow people who inspire me. And when I’m constantly exposed to those kinds of things it connects the dots. It’ll be a random hipster from Chicago who will post their friend and then I’ll find out about [their music] through that. Or I’ll do the generic search through Spotify and Apple Music playlists and music hubs.

And YouTube of course! The YouTube vortex is the illest club of all time.

The internet is the goat. When it comes to branding yourself how important has social media been, and do you think it’s had a negative or positive impact on entertainers?
Social media is the kind of thing that can make you or break you, you dictate what direction you’re going to go in. Within the past few months I’ve been paying a lot of attention to my social media and focusing on how I’m coming off, the content I’m creating and the quality of my pictures. It’s what you make it so if it’s negative for you that’s a reflection of yourself.

Have you faced any challenges being Black and being a woman pursuing this path?
Definitely. People assume you don’t know what you’re doing, that you don’t know how to use certain equipment or that you don’t know what things mean. It’s hard to discern whether you’re getting a gig or attention because you’re an attractive women or because of what you bring to the table.

What are some unspoken things about DJing that you want people to know?
Don’t put drinks close to the equipment, the DJ booth area is not a coat rack or a safe haven for your purse, I don’t have a charger for you and I don’t have every song in the book.

Where do you see yourself in five years?
Definitely want to accomplish more with DJing and diversify the places where I DJ. I do want to remain in the Tri-State area but I want to be able travel other places to DJ. 

I also want use my DJing to branch out into other things such as art, graphics and visuals. And I want to help communities too. Real philanthropic.

Listen to her Afrobeat mix below.

THEakasha Is Championing Free Movement And Self-Preservation

by Nadirah Simmons

Music has always been a part of DJ THEaskasha’s life, citing her parents’ unique and eclectic music tastes as influences for her love of the art form. And a quick look at her upbringing solidifies it as a love indeed. As a child she started playing the violin, and then the piano, before joining a visual performing arts program in the 7th grade, where she sang opera and continued until college. 

But by the time she was enrolled at Temple University her hopes of being a voice performance major were crippled by transcript problems and the audition process. She took a different route, pursuing media studies and focusing on radio and audio production. A few years later, armed with a degree and the success of numerous gigs, DJ THEaskasha is flourishing as an open format DJ, visual director and art enthusiast.

She has spun everywhere from New York City to Seattle to Miami, toured twelve cities and counting, and performed alongside Just Blaze, Natasha Diggs, Ivy Sole, Kari Faux, and Bri Steves. At the function THEakasha wants people to engage in free movement with every track she plays.

We talked to the THEakasha about her first time DJing, the bittersweet necessity that is social media, and being private while amplifying her identity as a queer Black woman.

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Do you remember the first time you actually DJ’ed?
Yes, I was in a DJ collective in Philly and I was their social media girl. And the plan was for me to be their social media guru and they were going to teach me how to DJ. But it didn’t happen, and they added two guy DJs to the group and they were putting them on and not me. But it ended up working out because one of the DJs they added, Astro 8000, really believed in me.

He has a chain of parties called ‘Astronaut Status’ he asked me to open one of the very first ones with a DJ set. The venue only paid him $50 for the night but he paid me $20 and he thanked me for holding him down. He said, “You’re worth getting paid for your craft. Go get that shit.” He gave me my first chance, my first gig.

And now you DJ all the time. What is that feeling like for you?
No matter how tired I am before a set or what struggle I went through to get there, it’s euphoric. It’s this weird unshakable confidence, almost like a freedom! 

My biggest goal as a DJ is to encourage free movement. It’s the most natural and healthy thing you can do with your body. Babies engage in it when they leave the womb, but the older we get the less and less comfortable people feel putting themselves in situations where they can engage in free movement…I want the people at [these events] to move freely too. It’s a form of self-care.

Was it hard for you to create your own style to stand out amongst a large pool of people?
That is actually something I’m just now finding to be a challenge. When I was starting out three years ago it was like “okay, I don’t expect to have a big crowd. I want to DJ under people.” But now I’m in a whole new market. I think if I would have stayed in Philly it would’ve been a lot easier to collaborate with people. 

But New York is a whole different monster. People will pay you but venues already have their DJs-whether they suck or not. They care about the bar sales being up to par. So me coming to them with my EPK, if I haven’t already built something massive myself or if I can’t bring them more numbers than they’re already doing, they’re not interested.

It’s been challenging and it used to discourage me, but now it motivates me. It’s not just about being on the hottest gig-even though I want to be on those-but also the wave I created for myself.

That’s always the best way to go! One thing that you said that stuck out to me is that venues will have DJs that suck [laughs]. What is a bad DJ to you?
I would define a bad DJ as someone that doesn’t care about the technical skill of being a disk jockey. A DJ that cannot blend records. A DJ that does not care to beat match. I’m not perfect, but you can’t play something at 82 and then cut to a song that’s 115. And some people can get that off and it sounds good. But the crowd feels it when you don’t care about blending or creating a vibe.

When it comes to promoting yourself, we are in an age that is dominated by social media. How important has social media been to you to brand and promote yourself?
I know a lot of DJs that have been in the game ten plus years and have social media because they have to, but their fanbase is organic. It’s real life. I admire the DJs that don’t have to rely on social media. But I also know because I’m a millennial and because of the connections I have, I need it. If it was up to me I would just have a website, but it’s helped me network and get so many of the opportunities I’ve had so far. 

Like Twitter for example. I’ve been on it since 2009 and I have seen it transform into such a bitter, evil, hateful place. No matter who I’m following or not following I feel like after a while I get sucked into that. Then you feel like you can’t unfollow certain people because this is how this person gauges our relationship. Or not following someone can ruin a business relationship.

Then you’ll see all of these popping DJs that you look up to and admire and you’ll feel pressured to keep up with what they’re doing. Social media is a real bittersweet thing.

It really is, which is so sad. You can log off or unplug to get away from it, but when you do log back in you’re bound to see something that isn’t positive.
It’s so crazy that you say that. None of that stuff is real, it’s the Internet. But then people will allow that to influence their real lives.

How important is your identity to you within the world of music?
I’m a Scorpio and I am a very private person. I identify as a queer Black woman, and my Blackness is always something I’m going to be loud about. But I grew up in a family where sexuality wasn’t important. Like if I say “I’m gay” they would say “ew we don’t want to know who you’re sleeping with! That’s your business, you’re grown!” It’s a part of my identity and something I’m proud of. I’ll continue to place myself in places around people with similar identities that I can commune with.

As far as me and the world? My identity isn’t important to the world. But they’ll know it and I won’t allow myself to be misidentified-all the way down to how my name is spelled. 

Listen to “tee time” below, a five-part mix series of “blended music for lovers in all stages.”