The Artists: Mother Speaks

21 Apr

NO pitch correction on Erykah’s new shit; the offkey notes came completely out of her human heart. I needed to deprogram my autotune-conditioned ear–I needed to love those notes to know I’m human too.

Man I can’t lie. I wrote this post completely stoned. I jammed Miss Erykah cuz this is the only time I’m completely open to the world around me. I needed to hear Mother speak, at least she’s my mother now. My real mother was like Lauryn Hill, actually. I think they could be kindred spirits.. I don’t even think I’d mind if my mom was deep enough to have a non-sexual lesbian relationship with Lauryn, cuz then I’d have had two genius mommies. I don’t talk about mommies anymore.

She says so much with so little; and she sings notes that wouldn’t marry each other if you forced them with any other instrument. Underwater is where you have to place yourself to listen to this shit, because artists like that can’t fuckin talk to anybody while they’re “sober”. They’e still thinking about how much they just spent on her album. They’re thinking about their cell phones and who they’re gonna text to tell about song #4. They’re completely unfocused. Artists can only talk to people when people turn into sober artists. And a sober artist is a slightly inebriated soul.

We’re all born artists. Then the world forces us to drink ideas until we become drunk with the “reality” that we’re adults now. What’s really going on is that we are reared to accept lies about who we can look like, what we can only buy for a limited time, and how we’re supposed to think if we’re a certain color. Some people become extremists; those are the addicts. And the rest of the people tread the line between naturally sober artists under the moon and drunk, non-artistic adults under the sun. And those are called robots.

And then there are the people whose souls remain highly tolerant to the consumption of those lies. We are called the artists. Some of us are victims of believing too many lies and we become prisoners of our own love; but most of us share what our souls look like to the rest of the world. But nobody really pays attention, and some of you try really hard to but our souls are written in a language you can’t decipher, so you admire the handwriting. We artists know we can’t reach you because once you do get a glimpse of our souls you forget about what you saw the instant you hear a new lie.

So the only way people can listen to artists is when they’re completely sober; back in their natural state as artists–their birthright. And what’s the only way to become sober? To forget all the lies. What makes you “sober”? To reverse your condition with the most natural means of releasing inhibitions: blaze one, motherfucker. And look at my soul.

So anyway Mother still sings. Miss Badu is baaaaaad.


One Response to “The Artists: Mother Speaks”

  1. Sean Padilla April 21, 2010 at 4:18 PM #

    I made almost the exact same comment about Erykah Badu’s singing during my first listen to “Out My Mind, Just in Time.” When raw talent is paired with solid execution, even the “wrong” notes can sound right. Pitch correction is draining the humanity from music.

    I definitely believe that everyone is born with an artistic gift, once that society systematically suppresses in an attempt to make everyone fit into a certain mold. The greatest artists tend to be the ones who can resist this suppression effectively without separating themselves entirely from society.

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