Photograph: Jai Hall

Please listen before reading on…

This left me, as one might expect, angered, hurt and hungry for more information about this. Ironically, I was invited by a co-worker last week to a talk at Harlem’s famous Abyssinian Baptist Church, in which lawyer/author Michelle Alexander was to be discussing her new book, The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness. I was unfortunately unable to attend, however I found an NPR interview she did on MLK day which fulfilled my desire to hear about her book.

Please listen here. 

As I took in both of these bowls of information, I found myself feeling motivated. I found myself feeling once again angry and deeply hurt. Ironically,  find myself alive and well in the time of the first black president and yet I feel deeply frustrated and angry about the state of our nation. I have always felt that it was only through education, that one begins to truly draw the connections about who and where one is on the spectrum of existence. The things that my parents and grandparents have experienced as Black people in this country are a testament to the continued struggle that we find ourselves coming face to face with as adults. These are not distant struggles, these are the same struggles! Struggles that sometimes we forgot because we can eat at the lunch counter and hold down a job. Struggles we forget because we can attend college and drive our shiny new cars. But let me tell you that I’ve been called a nigger in my lifetime and so have my siblings. I’ve been told what I can’t and wasn’t supposed to do because I was black. And thousands of young black people continue to live in poverty and oppression and disenfranchisement and it is all part in parcel of the history that we are forever asked to forget. We are asked to put it in the past and let it go, well I say no! Because the moment we forget is the moment we allow the battles waged in the past to fall away and we abandon those who are still victims of severe discrimination and brutality in our nation and worldwide.

I remember when I went to Ghana a few years ago. I stood crying in the Slave Castles at Cape Coast and a friend who went with me, who was from India, but had lived many years in the US, look me in the eyes and said, “I get it. Now I get it.” That is possibly the most powerful thing anyone has ever said. The most healing, the most cathartic. Because it meant that in those moments of looking back through history she was able to piece together the puzzle that stands so haggard before us today. And it is with these increased pieces of knowledge, these moments in which we piece together the levels of atrocity, that we come to understand the state we find ourselves asked to live in now. Asked to live in these times, silent and happy with the “progress we’ve made.”

Until this country is able to acknowledge the horrors it’s committed against humanity, until this country is able to take some serious responsibility for the injustices it allows to continue under the guise of the “war on drugs” and the farce that names itself to be justice, we cannot rest. We must continue to open our eyes, educate ourselves and keep looking back. Keep glancing over your shoulder at our ancestors who are calling on us to fight harder, keep glancing around in our lives and acknowledging the truth. Shine a light on the wrong and perhaps one day we’ll find ourselves standing in the true light of freedom.

Cooking it up!

A gothic tale becomes all too shockingly real in this mesmerizing magnum opus by the acclaimed author of Feed.

It sounds like a fairy tale. He is a boy dressed in silks and white wigs and given the finest of classical educations. Raised by a group of rational philosophers known only by numbers, the boy and his mother — a princess in exile from a faraway land — are the only persons in their household assigned names. As the boy’s regal mother, Cassiopeia, entertains the house scholars with her beauty and wit, young Octavian begins to question the purpose behind his guardians’ fanatical studies. Only after he dares to open a forbidden door does he learn the hideous nature of their experiments — and his own chilling role in them.

Set against the disquiet of Revolutionary Boston, M. T. Anderson’s extraordinary novel takes place at a time when American Patriots rioted and battled to win liberty while African slaves were entreated to risk their lives for a freedom they would never claim. The first of two parts, this deeply provocative novel reimagines the past as an eerie place that has startling resonance for readers today.

via Powells.com 

FROM THE POET the Chicago Tribune calls “the voice of the new Chicago,” comes L-vis Lives!, a bold new collection of poetry and prose exploring the collision of race, art, and appropriation in American culture.

L-vis is an imagined persona, a pastiche of artists who have used and misused Black music. In Kevin Coval’s poems, L-vis’ story is equal parts autobiography, and forgotten and re-imagined history. We see shades of Elvis Presley, the Beastie Boys, and Eminem, and meet some of history’s more obscure “whiteboy” heroes and anti-heroes: legendary breakdancers, political activists, and music impresarios.

A story of both artistic theft and radical invention, L-vis Lives! is a poetic novella on the dynamic intersection of race and culture in America today.

via Haymarket Books 

Image A: I don’t recall. Found it randomly on Tumblr. If someone knows, let me know. 

Image B: kwesi abbensetts

Image C & D: The Sartorialist

I listened to Fallen today. I wrote that song in a dark practice room at Arizona State University. I sat down and played a G on the piano and kept playing repeatedly. I brought in a g minor chord and the rest came naturally from there. I remember needing to write about my relationship to music, to singing and what a heavy and tumultuous relationship it has been and continues to be. As I wrote this I felt a lift off of my spirit. Like if my spirit could talk about it’s fears and it’s love, this is what it would sound like. A bit melancholy. A bit triumphant. 

Lyrics: 

oooo love, I’ve fallen, I dream in this loney world

( To be a musician is to have fallen in love. It happened for me really early and it seems like there was nothing as meaningful in my life after music. And you dream about where it will take you and what your potential is, but you’re never quite sure if you’re headed down the right path.)

oooo love, I’m walkin, Trying to follow you with no eyes

(You follow this dream and you have no idea how to get there. You walk, blindly down this path and the destination is so unclear, but you just keep going.)

oooo love (love), I can feel it, scream inside of me, do you hear? 

(It can be something that eats at you. Always asking are you good enough? Are you working hard enough? Are you gonna make it? It’s like this other self that screams at you.)

It’s on / It’s in / It’s here, inside of me

(I’ve always felt like music/singing was on me. Like my skin. Something you can’t remove or even want to remove. It’s on you and in you and an inextricable part of your being.)

It’s love

(Ultimately, I’ve come to understand that music is just an extension of what we all need and want. It is love. It is the way we feel love, get love, express love, create love, etc. It’s complicated and simple in the same breath.)

oooo, Time, keeps on showing, it’s wiser than I can see

(Time is a funny thing for a musician, especially a vocalist. Your voice changes and grows and hopefully gets better. You get older and wonder if it’s too late. But you also find yourself at very particular places, at very particular times and there’s something so harmonious about the journey music takes you on. It makes you feel like maybe you’re not privy to the master plan. Like maybe you’re on the right path after all.)

I pray, don’t you do it, let me waste away in this room

(In this phrase I speak to music directly. I pray that I have the strength and determination it takes to allow my music to grow and reach others. I pray not to waste my talent. I pray that I don’t end up with regrets. I pray to never give up.)

It’s on / It’s in / It’s here, inside of me

It’s love

oooo love, Still walkin

(Despite the fear, I have to keep walking. Keep searching and striving. Keep asking for courage and peace. I have to do it on my own.)

In my solitude, I am home

(To be a creative person is a lonely place. It is such an inner journey and though ultimately music is a beautifully collaborative art form, it’s also a lonely one. It’s you on stage alone. The pressure, the desire, the dream, the consequence, it’s all yours to assume. But inside of that loneliness, there is still nowhere else could could ever see yourself being. It’s lonely, and it’s home. The use of “In my solitude” is also a nod to Ms. Billie Holiday, whose version of Duke Ellington’s song Solitude always moves me to tears.)

I just wanted to share a bit of the feeling behind this song. It is very close to my heart! I hope you hear the love and fear woven into this tune and find somethingin it that resonates with you!

-Elle

My head swirls with what I like to call My Christmas Wishlist….

Top Row, from upper left:

1. Moleskin Music Notebook 

2. Daisy by Marc Jacobs (a friend put me on it and it’s pretty snazzy) 

3. Stella McCartney Autumn 2011 dress (Thanks Sarah!)

4. Who Said It Was Simple? (I wish for this to continue to be successful and be a window to new musical opportunities!)

5. Movado Bold Chronograph Bracelet Watch

Bottom Row, from lower left:

1. Canon Rebel T2i camera

2. Reed Krakoff Boxer Leather Tote

3. Gucci Platform Leather Ankle Boot

4. The Row Fessing Camel Wool Coat 

To all: I truly hope you have an amazing holiday! Enjoy your family, your friends and most of all enjoy yourself. Make this holiday season about happiness, healing and health. Sending you all my love and warm wishes!

I wanted to take a moment and give a huge thank you to Kurofune Crew of Japan for shining a light on Who Said It Was Simple? Last week they did a write up about the project on their website and gave me a lot of love! Thank you to all of you for supporting this project and helping it travel!

p.s. A special thanks to a Phoenix phenom, Random for putting people in Japan up on my project and hooking me up with some royal opportunities to come! 

Check out the review here. I recommend using Google Chrome to view this, as it will provide you with an automatic translation!

I’ve always been a fan of the “singer’s singer.” The singer who is more than a good voice or a lovely tone, but the singer who has style for days. Today those singers, for me, include Buika, Amy Winehouse, Marsha Ambrosious, and such. I am always elated when I come across new singers and new styles. Though sometimes a bore, Pandora dropped a song jem on me a few weeks ago and it played again today and I remembered how much I enjoyed it. I introduce Ms. Blossom Dearie. (even the name is oozing with style!) Her soft voice, is deceivingly simple, but if you really listen her style is breathtaking. She is tender. Every word, every phrase is meaningful and thoughtful. It’s art painted with a voice.

p.s. She’s a fierce jazz pianist as well. 

Manhattan

Someone To Watch Over Me