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TIMBUKTU
Timbuktu believes in DeSofo and will be giving an interview right back at us...
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TANYA MORGAN
THE MAIN INGREDIENT tanya morgan's freewheeling, populist poetics
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GRANDMASTER CAZ
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SHA-ROCK
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WHIPPER WHIP
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FROSTY FREEZE
Wayne Frost--Frosty Freeze--was a member of the second generation of the Rock Steady Crew--b-boys that helped revitalize an almost-forgotten art in the '80s.
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WANDA DEE + ERIC FLOYD
Wanda Dee was arguably the first female DJ ever, and the first female inductee into Afrika Bambaataa's Zulu Nation. She went on to be the diva voice of techno superstars The KLF...
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Sweden's most respected MC struggles to keep hope alive
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In Sweden, Timbuktu is the MC who even your grandparents have heard of. No, they probably aren't rocking his album at their Tuesday dance class, but they know he exists. And in a country where the generational divide seems to expand daily, this implies that Timbuktu's music, while uncompromising, in its willfully worldly, multi-culti purview, is somehow entertaining enough to resonate amongst a people associated more with meatballs than, say, mic skills. Yet that selfsame music, though oft acclaimed, fares far worse when it attempts to educate and uplift, which is often its very intention. With that said, it would certainly seem understandable for Timbuktu to "dumb down" and double his dollars, like so many of his American counterparts. But such would be a fate inconceivable to the Swede MC. On the contrary, Timbuktu admirably assumes an unstated role as the lone voice of reason in the wilds of the Western hemisphere, and is ultimately willing to bear genius' inevitable burden, which is ridicule, if only to provide the faintest glimmer of hope through his music.
The artist known in Nordic rap circles as Timbuktu was born Jason Diakité--the product of American parents--some 30 years ago, and was introduced to hip-hop by his father, who blessed the young rapper-to-be with a 12" of Melle Mel's obscure hit "Jesse Jackson." Though exposed to rap early, Diakité's musical tastes were varied, so it's unsurprising that when asked--in 1989--what album he wanted for a present, the musically-inclined 14-year-old's requests were either Paula Abdul or De La Soul's 3 Feet High and Rising. Needless to say, Diakité was saved from a life of tights and dance classes (not to mention suspect musical tastes) when he received the latter, which he played repeatedly, savoring each song and skit, as only the young and impressionable can. Shortly after receiving the seminal record, Diakité made the acquaintance of a female friend who persuaded him to start writing rhymes, and he immediately began cramming metaphors and similes into bar after bar, honing the craft, which he would soon master. By 1999, Diakité, along with several childhood friends, had formed Ju Ju Records, and released a 12" entitled "Absorb This." The record did well, garnering a trans-Atlantic buzz, but it would not be until a year later that the burgeoning MC would stumble across the formula that has made him a household name in Sweden.
At some point in 2000, when recording a track with another well-known local rapper named Petter, Diakité decided--on a whim--to rhyme in Swedish. The decision was a risky one for Diakité, who then believed that hip-hop, being a product of the States, should be recited only in English. But after witnessing the overwhelming response the record received upon its release, Diakité began to seriously consider recording his vocals in the language of his motherland. Because he was still a bit skeptical of recording a thoroughly non-English album, Diakité decided to release a double LP with one side recorded in Swedish, and the other in English. On the Swedish side is the song "Pendaltåg," (i.e. "the train") which tells the story of a Swede and an immigrant riding the subway. Both men, in the song, assume, with one glance, what the other is like, based on the prevailing stereotypes of the day. (The Swede thinks the immigrant is a lazy, abusive savage who will attempt to rob him, and the immigrant figures the Swede for a soulless, rich white bastard.) Diakité concludes the narrative by having both men admit that the desire to judge a book by its cover far outweighs the desire to accept people from different cultural backgrounds. Though not originally intended as a single, Diakité eventually chose to release "Pendaltåg," and the reception was jolting: people from all walks of life constantly approached him on the street and confessed that the song had really touched them. Considering that Swedish society is passive-aggressive by nature, and that no one had ever really taken a stand against the proverbial white elephants that stampede so freely in the midst, the concept of an MC getting a positive response for stating the cold truth about the country's race problem is novel, indeed. Nonetheless, it's a concept Jason Diakité decided to take further.
"I got a letter from the government . . ./ It said they were suckers."
-- Public Enemy
Inspired by the tongue-in-cheek letter to George W. Bush in Michael Moore's snarky bestseller Stupid White Men, Diakité wrote a letter to Sweden's Prime Minister Göran Persson, questioning some of the Prime Minister's stances on various issues while hoping to spark change. In addition, Diakité recorded the track "Ett Brev" (one letter). Though it wasn't initially slated for release as a single, a popular concert promoter told him the song should reach a wider audience. So with a "why not?" attitude, Diakité shot an accompanying video before he left on a cross-country tour with the Swedish rap group Loop Troop. While on the road, Diakité received a call from the video's producers informing him that they decided to subtitle the video, thus allowing all viewers to understand the song as they watched the video. Given the attention that life on the road demands, Diakité didn't think too much about the matter until he came back, and was greeted by countless strangers who were quick to tell him that they appreciated the directness of the song's message. As time passed, the video started getting heavy rotation, and the press began to pick up on it. The Prime Minister's press secretary's initial statement was, "No comment." But after repeated inquires, it soon became, "The Prime Minister doesn't listen to any music." Someone in the Ju Ju camp then found out that the Prime Minister's daughter was in a rock band, and was actively seeking a record deal. The culprit then leaked that information to the press in attempts to get the Prime Minister to talk. The media continued to apply pressure until almost six months later, when a referendum on Sweden joining the European Monetary Union, which Diakité was against, caused a gag order on political officials (because the government, regardless of their personal beliefs, was supposed to back joining the Euro). For whatever reason, the Prime Minister's office decided to finally respond to the song in a letter that attempted to redirect the same questions back at Diakité. The Prime Minister himself didn't actually write the letter, rather he gave it to two lower-level employees in hopes of making the lame response sound "cool." Regardless of the Swedish government's trite response, it was proven that "just a rapper" could actually reach out and touch the country's elite and make them, however halfheartedly, respond.
"29 was hell," said Diakité, when asked to describe his feelings on growing old. "29 was a year that was filled with reflection and a fist full of 'where am I headed?' and 'how will I survive and provide for a family 10, 20 years from now?'" A lack of higher education and youthful missteps haunted Diakité until the actual day he turned 30. At which point he said: "It felt like I was standing on a plateau overlooking everything." But with that new perspective came the gnawing fact that idealism, toward the end of one's '20s, starts to become anorexic as harsh reality-based perceptions tend to gain weight. Such was the inspiration for Diakité's latest opus "Everybody Wants to Go to Heaven but Nobody Wants to Die." The song, Diakité says, is about society allowing the future to be in the hands of those without hope. He magnifies the concept by dressing like a pimp in the video, complete with a gold tooth, fur coat, and cane. At the end of the video a distorted version of him is sitting, holding a baby smiling demonically at the camera. Diakité explains that this was his way of coping with the youthful idealism fading away toward cold and hard realism. Feeling overwhelmed by the state of Sweden and the world in general, Diakité started to feel that he couldn't make a difference anymore. So through the therapy of the pen, he wrote the aforementioned song. And Though he feels that he has become less idealistic, he holds the belief that one should fight to keep some of the innocence that produces art.
Diakité's statement of "just a rapper" would haunt me two days later when watching a Swedish talk show in which the host brought up "Ett Brev," but only to point out that the song's message was that the government should leave weed smokers alone. No mention of anything of substance in this heartfelt grasp for hope, but a simpleminded focus only on that minute part of a bigger picture. Jason Diakité sat there looking frustrated, withdrawn, and lonely, watching his work broken down by people who don't know, and most likely never will. But alas, this is the cost for keeping hope that all must pay from time to time.
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