Author: Alex Winnick

As hundreds of unshaven middle aged folks swarm the campus, we can take a break from the puffs of smoke and baja’s to admire the change in weather. Although anyone living in Michigan for more than year knows that it’s too early to ditch the winter jackets, it’s certainly getting close to Spring. As I’m not quite as eager as the daring young boys who wear shorts solely because it was above 50 yesterday, I choose to tie myself over in the wait with poetry. For all you midwesterners out there, here’s a poem by Bob Hicok in the anticipation of daffodils.

A Primer

by Bob Hicok

I remember Michigan fondly as the place I go

to be in Michigan. The right hand of America

waving from maps or the left

pressing into clay a mold to take home

from kindergarten to Mother. I lived in Michigan

forty-three years. The state bird

is a chained factory gate. The state flower

is Lake Superior, which sounds egotistical

though it is merely cold and deep as truth.

A Midwesterner can use the word “truth,”

can sincerely use the word “sincere.”

In truth the Midwest is not mid or west.

When I go back to Michigan I drive through Ohio.

There is off I-75 in Ohio a mosque, so life

goes corn corn corn mosque, I wave at Islam,

which we’re not getting along with

on account of the Towers as I pass.

Then Ohio goes corn corn corn

billboard, goodbye, Islam. You never forget

how to be from Michigan when you’re from Michigan.

It’s like riding a bike of ice and fly fishing.

The Upper Peninsula is a spare state

in case Michigan goes flat. I live now

in Virginia, which has no backup plan

but is named the same as my mother,

I live in my mother again, which is creepy

but so is what the skin under my chin is doing,

suddenly there’s a pouch like marsupials

are needed. The state joy is spring.

“Osiris, we beseech thee, rise and give us baseball”

is how we might sound were we Egyptian in April,

when February hasn’t ended. February

is thirteen months long in Michigan.

We are a people who by February

want to kill the sky for being so gray

and angry at us. “What did we do?”

is the state motto. There’s a day in May

when we’re all tumblers, gymnastics

is everywhere, and daffodils are asked

by young men to be their wives. When a man elopes

with a daffodil, you know where he’s from.

In this way I have given you a primer.

Let us all be from somewhere.

Let us tell each other everything we can.

Say “Mmm Mmm!”

Say “God DAMN!”

I’m your pusha man, I’m your- I’m your pusha man. Twenty-year old Chancellor Bennett, formally known as Chance the Rapper, started his second song of the night off with a call and response introduction leading into the track “Pusha Man.” Each time he called out his instructions he would jump with both feet, hopping around the stage like an over-caffeinated energizer bunny turned rapper. His energy level was easily the most consistent and most redeeming aspect of the performance. Whether I was standing in the last row or pressed up against the jostling crowd just a few bodies from the stage, I felt as though I was right next to Chance, absorbing his radiation. He made one thing abundantly clear that night: he loves performing.

And the crowd loved him for it. Despite dominating every music blog on the face of the internet, his many magazine covers and upcoming multitude of summer music festivals, Chance is still a rising artist. Granted, he’s rising faster than most anyone in the music industry right now, but his stardom is only about a year old. As such, a sold out Hill Auditorium is actually one of the bigger shows he has ever headlined. This statistic, combined with Michigan’s proximity to his hometown and muse Chicago, and Michigan’s success at sports, made for one excited artist and 3,500 crazed fans.

Unfortunately for these fans, and anyone who like me, had been waiting for the opportunity to see Chance in person, the concert was notably short. After a stellar and poised performance from Noname Gypsy to open up the stage, Chance came out at around 9:15 and was completely done by 10:30. Certain aspects of this were understandable. After a year of intense performing and touring, he has to be tired of some of his more popular songs. So while the entire crowd desperately wanted to hear “Juice,” I can immediately forgive him for not wanting to play it. Also, it’s understandable that his songs are going to be short; most of Acid Rap’s tracks feature guest artists, so most of the time Chance could only sing his verse and one or two rounds of a chorus. Again, there is no real way around this. However, what he could have easily done was to dig deeper into his repertoire. He didn’t play a single song from his first project Ten Day all night, probably because he (correctly) assumed that most of the white 18-22 year olds were there to support the catchier tracks from his latest mixtape, not to indulge in the entirety of his work. To me, this meant shorter songs, longer instrumental solos and frequently interruptions for applause. To cover these shortcomings, Chance kept his energy level high, dancing and jumping and spraying water and revealing layers and layers of personalized jerseys for the crowd’s entertainment. Despite these antics, I still walked away from Hill that night feeling slightly unfulfilled. There are fewer features on Ten Day, and playing a couple of his earlier songs would have given Chance the opportunity to really get into a song, and not just provide a teaser.

Still, it is hard not to enjoy a Chance the Rapper concert. His live band and jazz influence makes him the next Prince and not the next Meek Mills. He clearly loves making music, and using it to influence people around him. Although I think the true power of his song “Paranoia” was lost on the mostly intoxicated white audience (true to any large gathering of Michigan students), it was clear to everyone that Chance has substantive lyrics.

Highlights of the night included his joint performance of the song “Lost” with Noname Gypsy, his personalized Michigan basketball jersey and Chance’s infectious, glowing energy that transformed Hill Auditorium into his own personal playground. During his more tranquil, introspective songs as well as his more high-energy dance tracks, one message strongly came through the speakers. “Everything’s Good.”

Yesterday our campus saw the 5th annual TEDxUofM conference– a showcase of ideas, energy, innovation and new ways of learning. The full-day long event drew in over 1,000 people and featured over a dozen different speakers and performers, talking about everything from curing diseases to puppet-theater workshops in public high schools. Each year, several seniors in the school of Art & Design create a poster that relates to the conference’s theme, to be shown on the day of. This year’s theme was “Against The Grain,” and the following artists contributed posters: Cori Lewis, Dave Eppig, Ellen Wolbert, Leah Backo, Leah Whiteman, Madalyn Hochendoner, Margaret Hitch, Mary Clare Harrington, Meggie Ramm, Sarah Brennan, Tarah Douglas, and Taylor Ross. See all of their amazing work below!

Last night, with roughly one hundred of my peers, I filed into the Michigan Theater for an event the likes of which Ann Arbor has not seen in some time. Whoever decided to create an interactive sing-along version of R Kelly’s hip-hopera “Trapped In The Closet” is nothing short of a genius, and that person’s brilliance is only surpassed by Mr. Kelly himself, who has the kind of artistic vision the rest of us mere laypeople can only begin to understand. I knew I had stumbled into one of the most unique evenings of my time here at Michigan when, mere steps inside the theater’s lobby, I was handed a goodie bag by a lovely man who could not have been under the age of eighty, complete with condoms, fake money, fake cigarettes and a small handheld water gun. I can imagine no other tools I would need for a viewing of Trapped in the Closet, and complete with my necessary arsenal, I made my way into the auditorium.

Before I was even half way down the aisle, the lights dimmed and the screen started flickering. Panicking slightly that the footage was about to begin before I was properly situated in my practiced “Trapped-in-the-closet-ultimate-comfort-sitting-pose,” I was surprised to see a series of words flashing up on screen. The film instructed everyone to, and I quote, “Stand up for some bumping and grinding.” We followed its instructions carefully; the audience stood, surged through the aisles, danced in place, shot streams of water and sang along to choice R Kelly music videos. The trio finished with Mr. Kelly’s remix to Ignition, setting the crowd off on an energetic dancing spree. When over, the screen transitioned to another black background and white text, instructing everyone to return to their seats for the premier event.

Fast forward about ninety minutes later, and I staggered from my seat, disoriented, confused, enlightened, astounded, changed. Admittedly, I had only seen the first four of five chapters before last night, and the shock and surprise undoubtedly contributed to my disarray. I was in no way prepared for the twisting and convoluted plot, and each of its intertwining subplots. There are surprising twists every few minutes, and shocking revelations of same-sex relationships, pregnancies and adultery, as well as dreams and flashbacks. All the while, R Kelly narrates every move with his utterly static soundtrack and crooning vocals. When R Kelly’s character finds an empty condom wrapper in his wife’s bed, he dramatically ends the chapter with fading repetition and gasps: “A rubber… A rubber… A rubber!”

The brilliance of Trapped in the Closet lies in its repetitive surges of dramatic instrumental swells. There are also very confusing moments, problematic situations and and harmful stereotypes that contributes to the film’s flaws. There is nothing quite like the experience of seeing the first 22 chapters, and nothing quite like it in all of the art world. If you’re pressed for time, here are the first and 22nd chapters; I encourage you to sing along and spray fake money into the air when you’re finished. Keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times, it’s an absurdly wild ride.

<chapter one> 

<chapter twenty two>

“Welcome to the wonderful world of Edward Sharpe” is probably something you’ve heard before. Sometime in high school when your friends took the song “Home” with you on a hike and picnic to celebrate your respective college admissions and your disregard for AP exams. The sunshine and the green of the trees and the warm air and the crunch of gravel under your shoes fell in line with the whistling and the harmonies. There are few moments like hearing the song “Home” for the first, second and third times. There are also few moments like hiking Sleeping Giant with your closest friends on a still and sunny May day, but I think the first example is more universal, unless you happened to grow up in Connecticut and know what Sleeping Giant is. Regardless, I’ve yet to meet a soul who can turn away from some of Sharpe’s classics.

“Welcome to the wonderful world of Edward Sharpe remixes” is perhaps not something you’ve heard before, however. I’ve always been a bit hesitant to embrace remixes, especially when computer artists attempt to play around with songs that, in reality, don’t need any tampering with. As such, I’ve stayed away from any attempts at editing Kanye, Chance, Beyonce, and apart from one Das Kapital rerub, any and all Bon Iver songs. And yet, I’ve been surprised and delighted over the years to find a steady arrival of glorious remixes of Edward Sharpe classics. A test of a truly good remix is that it can be its own song without diminishing my desire to hear the original. This rings true in three cases of Sharpe tunes: “Man on Fire,” “40 Day Dream” and of course, “Home.”

When the Magnetic Zeros dropped their second most recent album “Here,” I blasted its first track on repeat, and only grew more infatuated with it when its music video also surfaced. Naturally, I was wary of the unheard of “Little Daylight’s” revision, and almost passed it over while surfing through the Hype Machine’s most popular songs of the week. However, less than ten seconds into the enhanced snapping and tongue-clapping beat, with Sharpe’s voice echoed and synthesized to the ultimate level of enchantment, I knew I had stumbled into a masterpiece. This remix is ideal: it preserves the tone and feel of the original track and merely speeds up the rhythm and kicks in the bass enough to make it a source of perpetual radiance. The sound effects compliment the normal track without overpowering it or adding distraction, and Sharpe’s innocent lyrics still shine through. For your late mornings, early dance parties and sunny kitchens: <Man On Fire — Little Daylight Remix>.

Dissimilarly, producer/DJ Turbotito decided to make large changes to Sharpe’s track “40 Day Dream.” These work because the sound is so new and deviated from the actual track that I can still listen to the original and get a different feel for it. This remix has an increased tempo, heavy drum influence and dancy sound. Turbotito takes Sharpe out of his folk style and into the synthesizer-warped electronic world of acoustic remixes. This one’s for your afternoon jogs, post dinner beer and 2 am diner runs: <40 Day Dream — Turbotito Remix>.

I love this next one. “Home” is one of my favorite songs of all time (a trait I think I share with 98% of the world), and just when I think I can’t find new ways of loving it, I remember that popular remix artist RAC has blessed us with an accompanying version. One of my favorite tricks is to play this song to a group of friends, waiting patiently during the thirty seconds of introduction, and then smiling with glee at their surprised reactions when the legendary whistling kicks in. It is a sure-fire crowd pleaser. For your happy moments: <Home — RAC Remix>.

Once in a while you’ll see someone around campus wearing a shirt that says “J Dilla Changed My Life.” That person is paying tribute to one of the most well-liked and talented music producers in hip-hop history. You’ll see them around here more than other college campuses because J Dilla was born and raised in Detroit. He grew up in and around the underground hip-hop scene, working with a number of different local artists. He gained a significant amount of his notoriety as a member of Detroit’s Slum Village, a group that, despite its top quality production and lyricism, never gained equal fame as other local collections like The Roots. Unfortunately, J Dilla passed away at the early age of 32. He was struggling with illness for the last few years of his life, but managed to continue producing music almost immediately up to the day of his death.

J Dilla was a producer, not a rapper. A producer is a musical artist who creates the beat or instrumental over which rappers or singers perform. Producing is also referred to as “sound engineering,” because often times the noises are technologically altered with all sorts of equipment. There are a wide multitude of programs and software that artists use to cultivate these sounds, and they are growing ever more popular. Moreover, being acknowledged for music producing is a relatively new concept, and today producers of famous hip-hop and pop songs are getting almost as much recognition as the singers or rappers. For instance, everyone knows that Hit-Boy produced the instrumental for Kendrick’s “Backseat Freestyle,” but did you know that it was actually J Dilla who produced Common’s “The Light” so many years ago?

To commemorate the long history of sound engineering in Detroit, the Charles H. Wright Museum of African American History will host an event next Friday, February 7^th called “Nothing Like This.” The title, the name of a J Dilla track, encapsulates Detroit’s longstanding contributions to the evolution of popular music in America. The event will include Panel Discussions showcasing some of Detroit’s prominent music engineers, workshops for participants to learn about music production, DJ’ing and graffiti, as well as an Open Mic Competition for local artists. The event promises to be a complete blend of educational opportunities, hands-on experiences and a chance to support other Detroit area poets, rappers and DJ’s. All of this will happen from 3pm-7pm at the museum. Check out the flyer here:

Also, check out this incredible mix of J Dilla beats. Some of them are matched with vocals as they were originally, and some have been mixed in with other a cappella tracks. But all of the smooth and rhythmic beats are Jay Dee’s.

<JDilla>