Black Music Month #BlackLivesMatter June 2020. Volume 6. Issue 6
ANAIS LAURENT: CREATING CULTURE AT NPR’S TINY DESK PG. 4
MUSIC STARS POST-PANDEMIC PG. 6
TALE OF TWO SOUNDS: GO-GO & PUNK IN THE NATION’S CAPITOL PG. 8
PHOTOS FROM THE #MILLIONMOEMARCH PG. 10
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Lafayette Barnes IV Claudia M. Watts Photography Editor : Lafayette Barnes IV Layout Design : Lafayette Barnes IV Photography : Lafayette Barnes IV, Fernando Castro, Anais Laurent, Agatha Powa, Farrah Skeiky Contributing Writers : Marcus K. Dowling, Maleke Glee, Claudia M. Watts, Elise R. Peterson Editor :
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Letter from the Editor Black people have been creating music for centuries. We have a history rich with melodies of trouble and triumph, and a love for percussion that’s unparalleled. At the forefront of innovation, Black musicians, producers, songwriters and singers have consistently set the tone across genres in the music industry. As a city that has its own style of music (go-go) created by the Black population,Washington, D.C. is a prime example of the intrinsic connection between music and culture, and their value to humanity. The impressions that music leaves on culture shape our experiences and serve as a marker of the times. For the majority of Washingtonians, the fight for go-go has been all but inescapable these last two years. The ongoing movement has served as a unifier across the metropolitan area and a reminder that the sound and the people it speaks to are very much a part of the city’s identity. In celebration of Black Music Month, we cover D.C.’s live music scene, from artists to venues as they regroup and reroute through Covid. We sit down with Anaïs Laurent to discuss NPR’s Tiny Desk and the influence it’s had on exposing D.C. music to a larger audience. We also dive into the tale of D.C.’s musical offspring, punk and go-go, and look at music as a form of activism.
Best, Claudia M. Watts
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ANAIS LAURENT: CREATING CULTURE AT NPR’S TINY DESK Words
Elise R. Peterson | IG: eliserpeterson
“Y’all ni**as got me hot!” proclaims Anderson Paak, seated behind a drum set while performing with The Free Nationals for NPR’s most-watched Tiny Desk performance at 51 million views and counting. It also served as our background music as friends and I, right fists firmly erect, cheered on Black Lives Matter protestors from a stoop on 14th & U St. I had been away from D.C. for nearly ten years before returning. In that time, we’ve watched the rise of contemporary legends like Paak, Noname, and Thundercat rise to international success. I felt a sense of overwhelming pride watching virtually as hometown heroes Chuck Brown, Nick Hakim, and Goldlink amplified D.C. for the inherently, Black cultural hub that it has been historically. The changing optics of the city can be jarring when compared to nearly a decade ago. Institutions like the MetroPCS on Florida Ave that has go-go on round the clock have survived, but how will a culture-laden with nuanced Blackness sustain itself amid gentrification? With millions of eyes on Tiny Desk, what does that mean for Washington? I hopped on a call with NPR publicist, fellow Howard alum, and Maryland native Anaïs Laurent on her role at NPR and how Tiny Desk and D.C. are growing together. Tell me about your role at NPR. I’m a publicist at NPR. Specifically, I deal with NPR music. I’m their publicist, everything from all the different podcasts like Alt.Latino, to of course Tiny Desk, Code Switch, and How I Built It. Essentially, my role is to get people aware of the work they’re doing, looking at the content we have, and determine how we can bring it up a notch and spread the word to a younger and more diverse audience has been my biggest goal. I think a lot of people know of NPR, but they may not know that Tiny Desk is under NPR. I find ways to hook this audience in with new and engaging content.
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Anais Laurent (Courtesy Photo)
ANAIS LAURENT: CREATING CULTURE AT NPR’S TINY DESK
In its earlier years, a lot of people associate the Tiny Desk sound with more indie, folk music. That sound has shifted quite a bit over the years. How has that shift impacted the Tiny Desk audience? For one, we did Tiny Desk Fest last year and Megan Thee Stallion and Phony Ppl kicked the whole thing off. That was a complete shake-up for NPR. It was awesome seeing people in the crowd Shazamming it, not knowing who she was. Twitter was lit, so there’s that dynamic. We brought in a lot of international artists too like Koffee and Burna Boy, so I think we are doing a really good job now of just showing the diversity in music. Something that I think is important to challenge is this notion of what is “Black music”? Black music isn’t necessarily just rap. There’s afrobeat, there’s reggae, there’s dancehall, reggaeton, salsa. At Tiny Desk, there’s a home for all those different genres. Who is in the room? Is it a space that encourages a local presence? Essentially it’s scaffolding. So it’s invite-only and staff are able to bring I believe, two guests outside of NPR staff. When I came in, one of the biggest things I wanted to see was more people that look like me, you know? And I’ve done a lot of that. I’ve brought a lot of local press to make sure it’s not just a staff thing. The presence of the Obama administration catapulted D.C. on the gentrification fast track. We’ve seen integral parts of the culture specifically centered around go-go music be challenged by a transplant community. In 2010, Tiny Desk featured the legendary Chuck Brown, the first go-go performance on the platform. Since then, we’ve seen performances from Rare Essence and Trouble Funk. Why is it important for Tiny Desk to feature Go-go music? For one, this desk is in their home. Just because we are in this building, we can’t ignore that just down the street was Black Hollywood. It’s history. I think it’s imperative that we do that. We’ve had Ari Lennox, Wale, Goldlink, Rare Essence, so I think it’s super important that we are also including the community that’s right in front of us. Yes! And it’s really amazing to see legends like Chuck Brown, Rare Essence and Trouble Funk be featured, and then usher in this new sound of the area. Do you think Tiny Desk can be accredited to shaping or amplifying the new sound of the DMV? Yea, totally! I think that again, it’s really become a way for us to discover new music. You get on Youtube, you search these artists and end up in this dark hole of a bunch of new music you’ve probably never heard of before. I definitely do want to get more local artists [and] more international artists, because I think it’s definitely worth noting that D.C. is such a melting pot of cultures. We are multidimensional. I think it’s cool that Tiny Desk mirrors that. There feels like two prominent cultures in D.C.: The political and the inherent Black culture that built the city. Do you think music is inherently political? Do you think these musicians performing in D.C. make these performances inherently political? I think art is political and it always has been. Fashion is political. Wearing your hair natural, that is a political statement, you know what I mean? And I think that’s fire. It's like to me art has always created change. The world is at a real turning point. What’s next for the city? What’s next for NPR? How do those two trajectories align? I think it's acknowledging that the world is changing. It’s the browning of the world. Not the browning of America, the browning of the world. I think a lot of people need to wake up if they haven’t, and understand that your content needs to reflect the diversity of the world. You see that our new CEO completely gets that. One of his top priorities is to emphasize that we need to be creating content that reaches younger and more diverse audiences. Granted, Tiny Desk is definitely one of those avenues, but we need more…I think a lot of people are doing that work. Times are changing and the there’s a lot of opportunity in that. It’s also understanding our history. I went to Howard and I’m a local and I had no idea that U Street was this Black Hollywood. People are walking by there every day not knowing that energy is right there. I think education is just so important. You should be proud to walk down the street in D.C. Hold your head up high. That’s a beautiful thing. It’s paying homage to that, education, and then understanding that we do need to have a pulse on the culture and what’s next.
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Words Marcus K. Dowling | IG: marcuskdowling
music stars post-pandemic One hundred days removed from the twin scourges of a global pandemic and sociocultural strife, musical melodies are emerging to lift our spirits more than soothe our nerves. In contemplating how a few D.C.-based musicians survived COVID-19 and racial unrest, a sense of thinking broadly about music as a creative outlet and mechanism of personal growth emerges. In speaking to singer/songwriter duo April and Vista, soul musician and vocalist Aaron Abernathy, and rapper/producer Awthentik, a well-rounded sense of how talented musicians cope with the state of a reemerging world becomes clear. "We were set to tour with Little Dragon in April, but when the tour cancellations started rolling in, we knew we'd have to adjust quite a bit this year," Matt Vista says. Thus, April George's barely audible, yet emotionally resonant sigh following Vista's words gives the sense of a duo still making music, but also forging forward attempting to shake free of the weight of a dream deferred.
“Before COVID, the music industry was moving at such a pace where you couldn't slow down and think about what you're making. That caused a lot of good music to be seen as forgettable, possibly," George notes.
"Now, there's no reason to rush anymore, which should inspire more memorable music [to be released]." As far as when we can expect that music, George adds, "we're not trying to fall into the trap of putting something out immediately. This is some of our best collaborative work, yet. We're working with the best musicians we've worked with, too." Adding an emphatic note that may give a peek into two significant goals -- touring and releasing -- in their future, Matt Vista notes, "we're going to continue to take our time. It's not the responsibility of the artist to chase the industry. Instead, it's the industry's job to pursue art.” Aa Aaron Abernathy is a globally-touring soul artist whose music schedule typically found him spending as much on Germany's Autobahn as it does the Capital Beltway. However, when not playing music, he's a bit of a self-described introvert. Moreover, his January 2020 release Affirmations wasn't his usual soulful rhythm and blues. Instead, it featured a collection of yoga meditations meant to inspire mental clarity and positivity. Having a 100-day touring break inspired him to re-double his efforts in discovering a higher plane of creative rejuvenation.
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April and Vista | Photography by Agatha Powa
“Once the industry shut down, the album I was going to put out, the touring I was going to do? As an independent creative, I'm just left to sit here and see where my brain goes. Having time allowed me the ability, most importantly, to reconnect with my heart. Once I learned where it was going to go, that's the direction I took.”
Awthentik's thoughtful pauses showcase his resolute demeanor during the pandemic. His words share thoughts speaking to rekindling heartfelt inspirations related to his music. "I'm sometimes unsure if music is even the solution for right now. In many ways, music doesn't feel as timeless as it once did." The rapper/producer's time of late has seen him getting active, focusing his photographic lens on the Black Lives Matter protests in Downtown D.C.. Seeing so many Black people mobilizing their voices for justice has inspired him in the studio, too. "The streaming era plus music having a greater impact from being used for advertising has microwaved projects," he notes. He offers a studied note on how music could best advance itself as an industry driven by activist-style art while being mindful of creatives needing to amplify their voices. "If we must make music right now, it's the time to be even more conscious than usual about what we're saying. It's a time to be as truthful and message-oriented as possible." Ultimately Ultim though, artists are most excited about the potential of, even if socially distanced, playing their music live in front of crowds willing to receive the fruits of their creative labor aurally. "Our first shows back better be lit!," says April and Vista's April George, unable to hide her excitement about safely breaking quarantine. Awthentik's words temper George's enthusiasm with a level of gravitas, perhaps speaking to music's profound impact upon the world's future. "I think we, as artists, all feel like we've created some of our most timeless material during this period." Awthentik | Photography by Fernando Castro
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Tale of Two Sounds Go-Go & Punk in the Nation’s Capital
Neighborhoods that lay along the green line and the red line are very different; their respective counties, Prince George's and Montgomery have distinct histories, cultures, and populations. However, the District brings these ends of the region together, often around culture. For Black D.C. natives and Prince Georgians, go-go was the de-facto sound before Mayor Muriel Bowser legislated it as the “Official Music of D.C.” in February.
Words Maleke Glee | IG: majahmal
Photography Farrah Skeiky | IG: reallyfarrah
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Pure Disgust D.C. hardcore band.
Go-go holds relevance in D.C. because it’s the soundtrack to parts of the city not often observed by tourists, or afforded equitable attention by the city government. Since Sin its inception in the 1970s, the poly-rhythmic percussive sound has sonically represented the once Chocolate City. Go-go was inescapable as it played in clubs, schools, recreation centers, and even barbershops. It was the sound of Black D.C. As gentrification pushed out much of the native Black population, the go-go scene adjusted and continues to maneuver a new landscape.
At this moment, given the #DontMuteDC Movement, Moechella, and the newly debuted Go-Go Museum and Café, go-go is getting much overdue attention. For the genre’s creators, this attention needs to be matched with stabilizing city funding and legislation. The city has placed challenges on go-go’s development, namely in club restrictions that severed bands’ relationships with venues. Meanwhile, D.C.'s punk scene echoes from the city expanding Mea throughout Montgomery County. Punk music was introduced in the late 1970s with immediate reception. Its roots reflect the global trend in the time of inception, namely the movement from the British punk scene. What made punk in D.C. unique was its acknowledgment of its posture, nestled in a political city. The punk scene, similar to go-go, directly addresses injustices, on and off the stage. It is an escape, presenting pr a world different from the conservative streets of D.C., full of happy hour bars and government employees. At night, clubs and basements blast loud with punk fans bouncing and yelling in sync with the grudge sound.
Together, punk and go-go set D.C. apart from other east coast cities.
Together, punk and go-go set D.C. apart from other east coast cities. The music scene in D.C. is insular, with substantial local patronage, and a few whose visibility grew nationally, and internationally. Outside of the Beltway, punk bands Bad Brains, Fugazi and Minor Threat represent a generation. Chuck Brown, E.U., and Trouble Funk represent a go-go generation outside of the Beltway with national and international fan bases. Within the Beltway, these genres encompass dozens, if not hundreds of bands over their over four-decade existence. While perhaps not intentional collaboration, the genres support a cultural ecosystem of creative entrepreneurs who provided promotional and technical support. p The genres have commonalities: a heavy D.I.Y. culture, high-energy performances, and often jointly progressive political messaging. In the 1980s, they began to collaborate. Go-go/thrash concerts were held around town, produced mainly by D.C. promoter David Rubin. The shows brought white teenage punk fans and Black teenage go-go fans. While there are some Black punk bands and musicians, the genre is predominantly white. Conversely, while all enjoy go-go, the genre's artists and audience are primarily Black. This brief moment of collaboration brought these groups together, and in 2020 with the advent of more unified activism, there is potential for these genres to unify their audiences. In 2020, go-go and punk are in a state of transition. Both genres, whose start was with the youth, are vying for relevance with younger populations. Undoubtedly the lack of all-age venues informs the limitations of young audiences experiencing this sound, amongst other factors. At this moment, amid a pandemic and hypervisible national terror and inequity, the two sounds have the potential to continue their legacy of activism in tandem. Looking behind, there are ar two genres with similar histories. Still, varying levels of support and public reception are informed by racial barriers and stereotypes. Ahead, there is potential to further connect these distinctly Washingtonian sounds further and unify their advocacy efforts around the common good. At this time, one common good is the preservation of D.C. culture as gentrification sterilizes what is unique, and makes it readily marketable and profitable. Go-go and punk have stood for their people. Their audiences have been and feel disserviced by the political and economic system. The marriage of these genres that had a brief life in the 1980s could produce sonic and political mergers that shape a generation.
Bacchae, D.C.-based punk band.
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I.C.Y.M.I. MOECHELLA 2ND ANNUAL MILLION MOE MARCH
The #MillionMoeMarch is an outcry to the world to symbolize peace, and to rally together DMV residents from all demographics who want to see change.
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The 2nd Annual Moechella aka Million Moe March was held Friday, June 19 at Black Lives Matter Plaza featuring perfmances by go-go bands UCB, TOB, and TCB.
I.C.Y.M.I. MOECHELLA 2ND ANNUAL MILLION MOE MARCH
“Erasure of Black culture, people, and bodies, has reached a crisis point.” - Justin “Yaddiya” Johnson (Founder, Long Live GoGo)
Peaceful protest and Black joy were on display at the Million Moe March as thousands of attendees celebrated DC culture. | Photography by Lafayette Barnes IV
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