I am finally emerging from my most recent cocoon. A whole lot has changed in the last month, both in the world and in my own life – and as these changes have taken root, I’ve felt the need to stay silent, to listen, to read, to expand my understanding.
But I feel so grateful for all the people who’ve been finding my music, so it’s time to come back out to play – even as I grapple with how best to do that when what the world needs more than anything is to give way to the black voices, the trans voices, the female voices of color that have been drowned out for far too long.
You see, reading, listening, sharing, even protesting – these are the bare minimum that are asked of us right now. When I ask myself how I can best be of service, the best way I know how is by writing, by singing, by using my voice in the hopes of expressing complex truths, inspiring introspection, bringing people together.
But the story of right now is not my story to tell.
So, here’s where I’m at: It’s July 3rd, one day before America’s birthday, a holiday I’ve always spent blasting “American Girl,” “American Tune,” and Ray Charles’s version of “America The Beautiful.” It’s a holiday that celebrates America’s declaration that all men are created equal, the creation of this beautiful melting pot that has given me so much – and I am writing to you on this July 3rd from an apartment in London, England, so grateful to be an expatriate from the land I love.
If you’ve hung out with me for more than five minutes anytime in the last five years, you’ve likely heard me rant about The System, The Man, the capitalist machine that’s turned the arts into commercial entertainment, food into agribusiness, news and politics into whatever the fuck you wanna call the noxious pile of runny dog shit that is our news and political system. That’s what my song “Say No More” is about, and I wrote it almost four years ago.
But what I now understand is that our broken system is broken not just because of capitalism gone awry, but because our whole capitalist system was built from the very beginning on the basis of subjugation, oppression, and racial discrimination.
So, now more than ever, I want to speak up, to use my voice to deconstruct The System, to rebuild the American Dream based on the ideals put forth by my forefathers: not the slaveholding white guys with silly hair, but the forefathers who built my country with their blood, sweat, and tears, who gave their lives fighting simply for the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
Because the story of America, of American culture, of American music, of jazz, blues, and rock & roll, is the story of Black Americans.
Nothing – literally nothing – brings me more peace, healing, happiness, and power than the music of Stevie Wonder, Billie Holiday, Al Green, and, yes, Kanye Fucking West.
For months now I’ve been returning to these influences as I’ve begun writing my next batch of songs. I pulled out records like “Innervisions” and “What’s Going On” to study the song structures, the background vocals, the way they blended the political and the personal. I pulled out “Lady Soul” and “I’m Still In Love With You” to find my groove and my swagger. I studied “Hallelujah, I Love Her So,” to hear the roots of American music, and I studied “My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy” to see just how far those roots could take me.
But here’s another influence who’s been on my mind for months: Elvis.
I love him. I mean, it’s hard not to. And all the rock & roll heroes I’ve stolen from for so long, from The Boss to The Band, stole their own style from The King himself. But guess what? All Elvis ever did was be the first white guy to steal directly from black guys.
Sam Phillips, the legendary founder of Sun Records, who launched the careers of Elvis, Jerry Lee Lewis, Roy Orbison, and so many more, was quoted as saying, “If I could find a white man who had the Negro sound and the Negro feel, I could make a billion dollars.” And that’s exactly what he did.
So, I’m trying to figure out how to move forward with immense deference and without appropriation. But all great art is stealing. And while I will never know what it is to be black in America, I will never not know what it is to be a musician without these influences. Because black music simply is American music, and I am an American musician.
I’ve got three songs out from a record I finished last year, and I’m excited to release three more singles this summer and fall, an official music video for “Do I Seem Okay?,” and, by the end of the year, the whole damn debut album. But what I’m most excited for is what comes next.
I’m here in Europe: I’m reading, I’m writing, and, because no story can be all pain and confusion, I’ll drop a personal tidbit that I am newly, and wonderfully in love with a girl from France (hence me hightailing it to the UK, the only place that would take us both after months of separation). My goal in these next few months is to take this great privilege I have in taking time away from my country and to use it to expand my perspective and to learn to love it better and more fully.