the night before an album began…

Paris, France – April 7th, 2009 – 12:58 AM

I’m lying in my hotel room in the 9th arrondissement.  After one transatlantic flight and two jet-lagged days, I still don’t seem to have the slightest urge to sleep.  I really should be asleep or at least finishing up some lyrics as I have to be in the studio in nine hours.  The morning will mark my first official day of recording my new album.  It hasn’t quite sunk in yet, but I know that I’ve long waited for this moment.  Of course I know this will technically be my third album, but I’ve long waited to do it THIS way…. producers, label, manager, etc.. all in place and ready to make it happen before I even sing a note.  I’m so thankful for their presence – the team effort and their faith in me.  I’m so thankful.  And with that gratitude, I am overcome with a barrage of mixed emotions: Introspection.  Anxiety.  Bliss.  Inspiration.  Apprehension.  Freedom.  Self-Consciousness.  Excitement…. what does all of this mean?  Where will all of this take me?  (”Or not take me?” she not-so-secretly wonders.)  My journey through song has had a handful of guarantees.  One of them is it’s ability to lead ME.  I don’t really make the decision to sing or not sing.  To perform or not perform.  I no longer have the choice as I once thought I did.  By saying that, I’m simply making the point that I too shall surrender to whatever this part of the journey is supposed to be, and I too shall surrender to wherever it might lead me.  In the end, I know I’ll still be singing.  In the end I know I’ll still be free.  So whisper a prayer for me.  Make it a loud whisper please.  Pray that this new body of work resonates with the sweat and tears of my journey.  This Journey.  Oh, this journey.  It is all that I have and it is always enough.  Thank you.

 

sxsw, murphy, and me

I left my Harlem apartment at 4am on Thursday morning to catch our 5:45am flight out of LaGuardia. My pianist Toru Dodo and bass player Michael Olatuja were more bright-eyed than most would expect to be in the wee hours of the morning, and we were on our way. My biggest worry at that point was to get to the gig on time. We were actually flying into Dallas with one layover in Houston, after which a dear friend agreed to pick us up and drive the 3-hour trip to Austin, TX. The original plan was to get to Dallas by 11am and to Austin by 3pm, but as Murphy’s law would have it, we found ourselves stuck in Houston for 3 and a half hours due to a string of delays from an early morning fog. For a moment, we considered renting a car and driving the closer 2-hour distance between Houston and Austin, but the airline was unable to extract our checked luggage from their system and we could not leave without it. So we waited. And waited. At some point we decided to rehearse while waiting: me belting out Swahili and English lyrics, Michael singing bass lines, Toru singing harmony with movement, and all of us slapping odd-metered African rhythms on our laps in the middle of the gate lounge. And still we waited.

This would mark my first time at SXSW, and our showcase was scheduled for 10:30pm at The Elephant Room. We got to Dallas at 3pm and hit the road about 4pm. With the help of my friend’s driving, we were able to rest a little bit in the car before getting to Austin around 7pm. At that point we had to all pick up our registration badge/wristbands (where the staff kept strangely referring to us as the “S-O-M-I Band”), grab a quick meal to go, cut back to the hotel, and be at the venue by 9:30.

Exhausted was an understatement, but there’s something about getting ready for a performance that never allows one to feel tired before going on. Besides that, I’d never been to Austin and I was deeply inspired by the perfectly warm weather and the fact that art and music seem to thrive wildly and openly on the streets.

The club was filling up when we arrived and word that Quincy Jones was presenting the newly discovered Cuban pianist Alfredo Rodriguez at The Elephant Room shortly after our set had supposedly begun to spread through the conference. When we finally hit the stage, the first song went over really well just before the sound system began to make violent firecracker-like popping sounds. Afraid the system might combust then and there, the production staff asked us to let them turn it off while they figure it out. It’s a strange thing: starting and stopping a set abruptly and unexpectedly. “Murphy’s Law again,” I thought. Thankfully, when we came back we were greeted by forgiving applause and a warm sea of patient, approving strangers.

I had decided to only bring a bass player and pianist with me for cost reasons, but the half-size band provided a different type of intimacy between us and the audience and gave me a lot of room to “stretch out” vocally. I wasn’t sure if it was too risky to play some songs for the first time at a gig like SXSW, an event often lored as a breakout point in the music industry. At the same time, I wanted to make sure we played a lot of the music that will be heard on my new album and that properly reflects where my present creative inspiration lies.

In the end, we were graciously given a standing ovation, sold a ton of CDs, and even got to meet and talk with Quincy Jones for a while. Shortly after, we disappeared into the summery Austin night while squeezed into the back of a pedi-cab; the three of us almost spilling out of it with adrenaline and laughter.

It’s now Friday evening and we are on I-35 heading back to Dallas. Tonight, we’ll sit in for a short set at a Dallas jazz club called Brooklyn. It’s not New York, but it feels like we’ll be home soon.

Until the next time…

S-O-M-I

 

new sounds, scribbles, and signings

hello world and greetings from the city of lights!

i know i’ve been quiet for a few months, but know that i’ve been plotting away to make 2009 a spectacular year. i am happy to share with you that i recently signed a new recording contract with the small but fabulously progressive label obliqsound.  due to the fact that one of their main offices is in paris, i decided to come over for a couple of weeks to finish the writing of my new album scheduled to be released in the fall of this year. i am so excited about the new songs and stories i have to share with you, and paris couldn’t be a better place for me to really think about this new world of ours, this new africa of ours, and this new music of mine.

between the production of the new album and the official launch of my nonprofit organization new africa live (which i’m happy to say was recently selected to be sponsored by new york foundation of the arts, a 501(c)(3) organization), i’ve got a lot on my plate this year! i am, however, planning to post a lot of personal journal entries as we move closer to the album release date and before we launch my new website. i hope you’ll check in regularly and leave comments freely.

as always, i thank you for your continued support and i look forward to the journey ahead.

somi

 

when we remember miriam and when i remember last night

when i remember last night
i feel the warm embrace of old friends.

bright beads of proud african decadence:
laughter, tears, introspection, and celebration –
the atmosphere.

miriam whispers in my ear and my heart
and i hope she’s dancing.

oh, how i wish i’d had the chance to tell her
how her journey inspired me
to sing my own stories.

she was the ORIGINAL.

it doesn’t get any hipper or more courageous than

an african woman

touring the world in the 1960s
all breath and truth-telling

if she wasn’t here then, would i be here now?

when i remember last night

i feel the swelter of a packed room
nodding heads dressed in light and shadow
the slap of palm to drum

a shekere meets the roar of applause
meets the sudden hush of ears
longing to hear her have the last word.

and i am humbled, grateful, and inspired:

malaika nakupenda malaika

 

new mornings and the audacity of hope

It’s 7:46 AM on November 5th, 2008 and Barack Obama is still promised to be the next president of the United States of America. Last night was not a dream. The past 20 months of prayer, hope, and anticipation of this moment were not in vain. The reality of this historic feat has just begun to sink in, and I am moved beyond measure. How can I rise every morning from this day on and not be fully inspired? How can one ever not aspire to be “the change we can believe in” from this day forth? I am speechless and tearful, but I am assured that this is a new day. A small child just passed by my New York City window chanting, “Obama-bama-bama.” This is real. This is real. While I know Obama’s task ahead will not be an easy one, today we have an uncensored license to dream. Dream of our future on this planet with an imperviously abundant sense of possibility. Yes we can! Si se puede! Ndiyo tunaweza!

I have not written in this journal for several months now. I have wanted to, but often felt unable. Consumed by many unexpected life challenges, I allowed my voice to fall silent for sometime as I weathered through those challenges. While I’ve always hoped to reemerge feeling stronger and more inspired, today I am reminded that we must never fall silent. We must always believe – even when it seems there is nothing to believe in beyond ourselves and our God. What we must remember is that that is always enough. We are enough. And this is real. Indeed, Mr. Obama, the audacity of hope. Thank you, thank you, thank you for reminding us all of the beautiful and infinite possibility in our own lives and in this world.

Love,

Somi

 

one year & continued inspiration

yesterday marked one year since the distributional birth of my record “red soil in my eyes”, and i cannot help but reflect on what or where that means i’m supposed to or thought i’d be today. was i hoping i’d have been to the grammy’s in some no-doubt-fabulous gown and on my way to becoming a household name? sure. (she giggles.) while my grammy moment may not have happened yet, i am truly thankful for my journey and for your continued support. sometimes it’s as simple as the occasional encouraging comment from a total stranger that helps me to keep things in perspective just when i’m beginning to feel as though i just can’t fight to be heard anymore. and sometimes that’s all i need. today, i thank you for all of your unexpected moments of inspiration and i celebrate the undeniable song in my heart. love. always. somi

 

acropolis whispers

acropolis is one of those places i’d seen throughout my lifetime in books and pictures – an iconic vision of ancient histories and western civilization. i was fortunate enough to visit the site during my weeklong stay in athens and just before heading to istanbul. “awesome” is the only word that comes to mind when you realize you are standing in front of the intricately detailed and grand marble architecture of those who ruled this part of the world for so many thousands of years before our time. which of those leaders would have thought that an african woman who called herself a jazz vocalist would be standing here now? had any of them been to africa? and what would they think of my music if they passed through the doors of athens’ happening half note jazz club tonight? standing in a place like this makes me wonder about one’s connection to humanity, and my time in greece has reminded me of the fundamental truth of humanity: We are all the same. Whether we are descendants of the hellenic empire or daughters of the great kings of the bunyoro-kitaara kingdom of east africa, we are all the same.

later that night when the crowd fell to a hushed and smoky lull of anticipation just before our final athenian encore, i remembered that truth. and as i sang my interpretation of the song “feeling good” (a song i first heard nina simone cover), i prayed that the leaders of today’s world might also remember our universally human truth of sameness. i thought of mwai kibaki, raila odinga, barack obama, hillary clinton, the george bushes, nicolas sarkozy, pervez musharraf, mahmoud abbas, shimon peres, yoweri museveni and paul kagame. indeed, “it’s a new day and freedom is now,” i sang. perhaps the spirits of acropolis in some way reminded me of my voice that night. obama says it takes one voice to change a room. i hope i did.

 

happy holidays to all…

 

how do i end this year without first giving thanks?  it has been an amazing year. 

it has been a year of both challenge & triumph, soul-searching & liberation.  2007 

seems to have come and gone like a thief in the night – only this thief left plenty 

of treasures behind.

know that as i reflect on the past year and visualize what i’d like the new one to 

be, i am not only celebrating the small and large treasures picked up along the 

year’s path, but that i am celebrating you.  

i give thanks for your presence and your willingness to bear witness to my journey.

with all of my heart, i wish you the happiest of holidays and i pray that your new 

year be filled with peace, truth, and love.

always,

somi

 

ThanksGiving in Paris

 

over the past week and a half in paris, i’ve been working with the legendary malian producer cheik tidiane seck who invited me to sit in on his final mixing sessions for malian diva oumou sangare’s new record.  oumou was gracious and warm.  every smile or word she passed my way made me feel like we were sisters simply sitting down for tea after years of not seeing one other.   two days later i found myself at la cigale watching ismael lo, one of senegal’s most treasured voices.  when he sang the song “africa” i was completely overwhelmed with emotion and began to write with some sort of stream of consciousness.  in that moment, i heard the insistent whisper of reaffirmation that my voice is not mine alone, but one of those from a continent that has long been oppressed, forgotten, and denied.  artists like cheik, oumou, and ismael have kept so many people inspired over the years, and i give thanks for them. often times i wonder if i’ll ever reach as many people as i dream of…

washed over with light and sound

the night’s truth seemed thicker than the air

i saw yesterday staring back at my future

and i knew i’d never again sing alone

as i never did

 

A Homemade Revolution

imagine the grammy’s with an african remix… that was what the pearl of africa music (PAM) awards felt like.  toru dodo (my fabulous pianist and the official band photographer…lol!) took this shot of me backstage just after we finished performing.  we got into kampala a few days after our performance for his excellency president paul kagame and other invited heads of state in kigali.  the excited energy of red carpet press and ugandan bling was a complete 360 from the tight security and reserved atmosphere of the state dinner in rwanda.  we had a great time and were honored to perform at both events, but i can definitely say that while i expected the reserved formalities of our rwanda performances, i wasn’t sure what to expect at the PAM awards.  what pleased me most about the event was the tangible evidence of a viable and sustainable east african music industry.  this year marked the fifth edition of the PAM awards, which celebrates popular and traditional music from uganda, rwanda, kenya, burundi, and tanzania.  i remember coming to kampala for christmas holidays as a college student and hearing the same radio spins i’d hear in the states or europe.  the only popular african music at the time was from congolese soukous superstar staples like kofi olomide or papa wemba or perhaps a south african power ballad from brenda fassie or yvonne chaka chaka.  sure, there was the occasional breakout local hit from afrigo or the jimmy katumba and cecile kayirebwa classics, but none of the aforementioned artists were heard in regular rotation.  typically they’d get airtime during the african music hour.  that always bothered be.   shouldn’t we be hearing and supporting more of our african selves on all the radio shows, instead of being relegated to the “african music hour”??   i would meet or hear about african musicians and artists who could not support themselves through their work because people simply did not valuetheir work locally, regionally, and/or nationally.  let’s not even not talk about how much more difficult it becomes for these artists to plug into a global cultural stage.  actually, let’s imagine a culturally reversed situation for a moment.  maybe you lived in chicago or shanghai, and the onlymusic you heard regularly on both radio and tv was swahili hip-hop or french techno - simply because they were the folks wading in culturally imperialist glory that century.  most of the music was about a socio-cultural experience so completely removed from your own, but yet that’s who your society celebrated as the most important cultural voices of the era – all the while dismissing the longstanding and emerging artists next-door.  while many of you might consider yourselves musically open to sounds from every corner of the earth (the best way to experience music in my opinion), i think the latter hypothetical situation might inspire a revolution in the local arts community and in yourself.  let’s not get my position on this twisted though.  i’m not saying cut out the possibility of listening to “Other” folks’ cultural narratives for the sake of championing or privileging one’s own.  i am saying that the only way that an individual or a community can definitively know where they’re going is by first knowing themselves.  in my opinion, the road to knowing our truest and best selves insists on revolution, originality, and an open mind.  to me, the PAM awards 5th edition was a fine example of the onset a beautiful and revolutionary journey that lies before a continent full of brilliant artists and minds longing to be heard both at home and worldwide.  i was simply there to perform a bit and present some awards, but i am absolutely inspired and so thankful that i was able to bear witness to another chapter of the revolution.  i am so thankful that i was able to be home, musically and otherwise.  thanks for reading…. somi