x-x-x-x-x. Politics of Sex, Noise and Depression

| | | — | | Jesus, what is it about your people that makes me wanna feed ‘em to the fuckin’ lions? Not really but, please!?!? Tour’s been goin’ pretty good so far except for being late to every show and leaving our guitar in Atlanta and leaving ALL our merchandice is Johnson City.

But last night was too fuckin’ much. University of Detroit Mercy. These people were fucking ass-holes. We get there and carry all our gear accross the courtyard and down two flights of stairs. Dude acts like I’m a fool when I ask about the PA we were told would be there, but then as I’m walking away I hear his friend like, “oh yea - I’ll set it up”. Cool. So while I’m setting up our gear this kid who’s hanging around (the “Grounds” coffee house) keeps asking his friends, “What’s the concert?” And finally as if I’m not there this other kid goes, “I don’t know. This guy who’s up on stage setting up his gear.” Like you can’t ask me, “Hey. What’s your act? What are you called? Where you from?” or anything civil. Yea, maybe it’s ‘cause they’re young and insecure. That’s why being in school sucks, isn’t it? Bunch ‘o’ young, insecure fucks.

So we play our first set and there’s one kid who I can see “get’s it”. He’s vibing with us, and the girl he’s hangin’ with is smiling too. There’s only three other people in the place. Two people behind the bar and this one black girl who’s either ignoring us or giving us dirty looks. I’m not sure which.

So at the end of the set I’m like, “Now we’re gonna spin some CDs of some of our influences”, and the first CD I grab is Umar Bin Hassan from the Last Poets. The first song on the CD is (you’re gonna love this) “Nigger’s is Scared of Revolution”. Now I’m new at this DJing thing so I’m right away finding the next track to play and cueing it up and matching the beat and stuff, and just as I’m changing songs the one black girl come’s up and is like, “Excuse me”.

So I go, “One second”, and change the CD. ‘N’‘Mlike, “What’s up?” “Well, I’ve heard that word (nigger) one too many times for comfort, okay? Now could you please turn it off?” So I started to explain that that was the Last Poets (a Black Revolutionary group who were forfathers of rap in the early 1970’s) and I didn’t even mean to put that particular song on…

But she just put up her hand and walked away saying, “You stopped playing the song, there’s nothing more to say”. And she and all her co-workers (turns out they all work there) ignored us for the rest of the night.

How Christian. Didn’t pay us a dime either.

And you know what? Rivka and I were talking about it and who the fuck is she to tell me what I can and can’t play? I’m not out to try and offend people. If you ask me to stop playing something, I’ll listen to you. But if you wanna be heard, you got to listen, too. It’s complicated shit, but do you have more right to the Last Poets because you’re Black? Do you even have more right to the word Nigger, cause you’re Black? All this shit is part of American history and so are all of us. Just as the Jews and Cubans and Puerto-Ricans and Italians and fuckin’ Koreans are part of ALL OF OUR HISTORY. And I’m not gonna tell the Japaneese dude he can’t play Salsa or an Irish Jig (even if it IS about the Potatoe Famine) if that’s what he’s feelin’ in his heart.

What’s more Hip-Hop, being Black or driving 8 hours, setting up 400 pounds worth of gear and playing original 2003 funk for three hours to a bunch of apathetic fools and one or two sets of ears?

This one dude Phil was real cool and turned us on to this act from here called Adult, who are on Erstatz Records and are into the Electroclash thing (See Peaches, WIT, Electric Mogul Records). 1,000 BlessingsMad Happy |

8/04/2001