In Remy Shands' video for "Take a Message", he (a white man) walks into a club (run by black men) to audition for the position of "soul singer". The black men are originally skeptical, but after hearing his straight-outta-Al-Green falsetto, they start nodding their heads in appreciation of his music.
I'm all for eliminating racial stereotypes, but what exactly is the message here? Remy must prove that he "belongs" in the role of "soul singer". Well, if he had doubts about belonging, then those doubts are likely not unfounded. OK, this isn't real-life, it's a video. But that only accentuates the point -- why would he go to great lengths of shooting a video, showing the world how black, white, and Asian youngfolk can have a great time getting down to his music, all just to prove he "belongs"? If he really does belong there, and he believes it, then why the need to demonstrate it?
I can't imagine any real-life black person listening to Remy Shand and thinking "damn, this boy's white, he's no soul singer!", but after listening to him for a while, adjust his or her opinion and think "wait a minute, I had it all wrong, this white boy has soul, I'm digging this now!". But that's exactly what happens in the video. Presumably, Remy Shand is worthy of reconsideration solely due to his race.
Are people really that ignorant? People listen to music and decide if they like it. That's it. I've never enjoyed a piece of music, but later found out that the singer was white or black or purple and decided not to like it as much. I've never not enjoyed a piece of music, but later found out that the singer was white or black or green and decided that I liked it after all.
The REAL reason he need to demonstrate that he "belongs" is because he's signed to Motown, and all his ideas are culled straight from early 70's Temptations and Stevie Wonder records, with little in the way of stylistic interpretation that would distinguish him from a mere copyist stance of the heroes he so blatantly wears on his sleeve. He's got to prove that he's more than just a white boy with a decent falsetto.
But we've already got one Jamiroquai, and I don't see why the world would need another.
Saturday, March 09, 2002
Each person is a complicated personality that can defy description. In some sense, it is an insult to be pigeonholed into being one thing or another, i.e. "He's a punk", "She's a raver", or "They're all a bunch of stoners". For people with one-track minds, this may not be a problem. They may *like* being seen only as a raver, and they may be proud of it. But I believe that most people celebrate the diversity within themselves. They relish the contrary facets of their personality, in that sometimes they are funny but sometimes sad. Sometimes sharp-witted, but other times goofy and gullible. Sometimes a beer and a Breeders song hits the spot, other times a dark room and sixty minutes of Brian Eno.
I have realised that I have hippie appeal. Now hold on just a minute, don't get the wrong idea. I am not a hippie, I have no plans to become a hippie and I'm not repressing hippie tendencies. However, I possess qualities which make me accessible to (some) hippies. I have long hair. I love to "chill out", albeit with alcohol as my drug of choice. The Orb were one of my favourite bands for years -- what could be more hippie than that? In general, the 1993-4 UK techno scene which chewed me up (and has yet to spit me out), was heavily populated by crusty hedonists who danced like spastic freaks, gobbled drugs, and rarely bathed. In other words, they were hippies. I may not give a damn about the rave scene these days, but my techno collection has grown by leaps and bounds and I enjoy a successful career as a bedroom DJ. That has to count for something.
I fawn over trance-like, sprawling guitar rock bands whose songs routinely stretch over several minutes. One might call this music "psychedelic". I may take issue with a 20-minute guitar solo a la Santana, but I take comfort in a 20-minute rythmic workout a la Can.
When I mentioned all this to my friend Paul, he thought about it intently before firmly declaring that he had "black appeal". Paul is white, has blond hair, and speaks like a person who is white and has blond hair. He is also the biggest hip-hop fan I know. He adores dark, abstract hip-hop and dub (Wordsound label, Techno Animal, Gravediggaz). I found techno, but he found house, particularly the sweet and soulful variety (Roy Davis Jr., Larry Heard). His fiancee may like mainstream R&B, but this paves an avenue for her into Pauls' house collection. She may be white as well, but Paul's "black appeal" is a noticeable cog in her fondness for him (at least when it comes to his music collection).
The number of appeals a person may possess is, in principle, unlimited. Consider not who you think you are, but your appeal, particularly with respect to your relationship, crush, or object of irrepressible passionate desire, and think about how it impacts your attractiveness toward them, and vice versa. This may be why apparent "opposites", can and do attract.
I have realised that I have hippie appeal. Now hold on just a minute, don't get the wrong idea. I am not a hippie, I have no plans to become a hippie and I'm not repressing hippie tendencies. However, I possess qualities which make me accessible to (some) hippies. I have long hair. I love to "chill out", albeit with alcohol as my drug of choice. The Orb were one of my favourite bands for years -- what could be more hippie than that? In general, the 1993-4 UK techno scene which chewed me up (and has yet to spit me out), was heavily populated by crusty hedonists who danced like spastic freaks, gobbled drugs, and rarely bathed. In other words, they were hippies. I may not give a damn about the rave scene these days, but my techno collection has grown by leaps and bounds and I enjoy a successful career as a bedroom DJ. That has to count for something.
I fawn over trance-like, sprawling guitar rock bands whose songs routinely stretch over several minutes. One might call this music "psychedelic". I may take issue with a 20-minute guitar solo a la Santana, but I take comfort in a 20-minute rythmic workout a la Can.
When I mentioned all this to my friend Paul, he thought about it intently before firmly declaring that he had "black appeal". Paul is white, has blond hair, and speaks like a person who is white and has blond hair. He is also the biggest hip-hop fan I know. He adores dark, abstract hip-hop and dub (Wordsound label, Techno Animal, Gravediggaz). I found techno, but he found house, particularly the sweet and soulful variety (Roy Davis Jr., Larry Heard). His fiancee may like mainstream R&B, but this paves an avenue for her into Pauls' house collection. She may be white as well, but Paul's "black appeal" is a noticeable cog in her fondness for him (at least when it comes to his music collection).
The number of appeals a person may possess is, in principle, unlimited. Consider not who you think you are, but your appeal, particularly with respect to your relationship, crush, or object of irrepressible passionate desire, and think about how it impacts your attractiveness toward them, and vice versa. This may be why apparent "opposites", can and do attract.