For all our Blackness, and for all the work we’ve done on the internet to curate our particular blends of Blackness, we still don’t see each other.
2015 made for an intriguing year in music and culture. From the drab mystery that is Trump to Oxford’s word of the year, the line between the joke and the genuine is no longer the dichotomous divide it once was (e.g. the new and improved Bieber condition).
“Yo Ice, I did a concert in the White House/And after that me and Donald Trump hung out.” —Ice-T
Protesters used the rapper’s latest single as a rallying cry for solidarity.
I love good hip hop.
Cue the existential crisis where I struggle to come to terms with my own privilege and the fact that not everything in the world is made just for me.
Once in a while, I find myself waxing on — as it were — to my son about vinyl.
Well, they’re actually pretty adept at defending themselves, but hell, I thought I’d try to help balance out the hate a little bit.
It’s kind of a race thing. And kind of a socio-economical thing. And a change thing, too — the Recording Academy is scared of change.
We could talk for days about the white appropriation of black music and of black cultural forms, but that conversation would get us literally nowhere.