People love to talk about something tapping into the zeitgeist. These commentators are usually American and often the zeitgeist they are referencing is homeland specific. But most of the time, very few see this zeitgeist coming until it's actually here or someone makes such a big impact through an idea or an extension of themselves that suddenly the pieces snap together. M.I.A. is a great example of this. Many predicted that with the rise of the internet, a rapid influx of culture sweep would float across the globe, but what most didn't see coming was how an artist like M.I.A. was going to sample the world's musical wonders and lead her generation towards these sounds like some sort of globetrotting pied piper. Since announcing herself with "Galang" in 2004, she has done just that, and shown herself to be the embodiment of a newly formed zeitgeist, whether she planned it that way or not. This year saw her taking lumps from a poorly received new record and a character-knocking feature in the New York Times, but try telling that to the faithful followers that swarmed the Roseland Monday night for her body-rocking set. Apparently they don't get that channel.
Those tuning in were also treated to a stage-shaking performance by Rye Rye, the first signee to M.I.A.'s N.E.E.T. imprint label. Hers was a set built around beats that were equal parts Baltimore club rap, Kala-style bangers, and the type of bubbly anthems DJ Quik would throw a finger up for. Hype is the word for it. Energy was radiating off her and the three dancers that rocked choreographed spin tactics behind. With their dreads flying around and she occasionally joining in, the crowd couldn't help but become smitten. Hands were in the air like she was the headliner, and soon she will be. There is a part of me that wonders if she won't grow bigger than M.I.A. Sure, Maya's music is more progressive and will be more memorable over a longer period of time, but Maya also has the political stuff attached to it that turns off the casual listener that sadly enough, makes up most of the mainstream public. Rye Rye's cool flow, and bad bitch delivery (why does every girl rapper sound like Trina live nowadays? I'm looking at you too Dominique Young Unique), coupled with her infectious beats and M.I.A. guest spots are going to make her a star. And I'm sure she'll be ready for it; she already looks famous, or at least looks confident. Rye Rye walked around that stage like it owed her a favor, without presenting herself as better than any other person out in front of her. That's charisma and that's what it takes to make it. Go see her. It's a party.
M.I.A.'s grand entrance was grand, but it was also late. Instead of the ten-sharp start time - as the sign on the door of the venue promised - we had to suffer through a laborious DJ set by Maya's steel-slinger. The sign on the door also had an 11:30 end time on it, so every minute she wasn't out on stage felt like an eternity or at the very least a wasted opportunity. When she came, she was ready to rumble. Attitude oozed out of her body, aggression co-signed her delivery - each syllable formed what they call "fighting words." Behind her and her short blue wig were two dancers (again, male) and three women in burqas - a sight that acted as a stark contrast to M.I.A.'s stylish, fashion-conscious ensemble. Her visual grandiosity, when paired with the connotation of forced modesty, became a bright, white light cast on the degradation of womens' rights around the world. And this was accomplished without anyone saying a word.
She opened with the /\/\/\Y/\ bonus track, "Illygirl," as rows of vivid blue lights absorbed any part of the air not yet saturated with color. The crowd became her playthings, though most would tell you they were her co-conspirators, helping her plan a new world where all cultures were respected, all sounds were massive, and all legs knew the joy of dancing. She followed "Illygirl" by beginning a journey down a curious road. Usually when an artist is on tour to support a new album, they pepper the majority of their set with bits and pieces of that record, but not Maya. She preferred to showcase where she had been before illuminating where she currently hangs her hat. "World Town" off Kala came next, followed by the "queen is back" horns of "Bucky Done Gun." The crowd knew the words, and she knew what the crowd wanted. Spending most of her time either on the edge of the stage ducking down to reach eye level or on the ten-foot-high speaker stacks that line the side of her temporary battleground, M.I.A. made herself into something that was both part of us and on another plane entirely. The crowd loved her for it, especially when she would step from the speakers up into the balcony. I'm sure security loved the idea of a paralyzed pop star meeting her fate under their watch. But isn't that M.I.A.'s schtick - the lovable rebel?
While all of this was going on, four neon lights boomed out brightly above her, spelling out her given name: MAYA. Below her, on the monitors, was her chosen name: M.I.A. I think we saw a bit of each. To me, Maya strikes me as the one that would close us down with "Space," while M.I.A. is the one that would playfully point finger pistols in the air for "Paper Planes." Both sides of the coin seemed at ease in the spotlight, coming together to form the confident and hyper-talented woman we saw before us. You couldn't take your eyes off of her, and the ferociousness of those beats only made her seem even more bulletproof. "Galang" was particularly crazy, especially the chant section at the end, that made every voice in there attempt to hit a place out beyond the roof. "Boyz" saw the stage flooded with a bunch of dudes dancing it up, which was odd to see, since it's usually a mass of girls flaunting their fondness for public dancing up there.
After about 30 minutes, M.I.A. left the stage, which was also odd since she was 20 minutes late in the first place. When she returned, it was to unveil her current self, in the form of tracks from the album that has split so many in the music community this year. Starting with "Lovalot," it immediately became obvious why some had cause to worry. Not because the song was bad--it wasn't--but more so because it was different. On her new record, M.I.A. forgoes her globalism--the thing that many fell in love with in the first place--for experimentation. What's funny is that for all the talk of "she is so progressive, we love her for that," when she first came out, at least in the media, it would appear that progression really isn't always a crowd favorite. Here, she was amongst friends though, people that loved her music and wanted her be herself. It helped that pretty much every song fell into that wonderful whirlpool named, "It's always better live." Except for "It Takes A Muscle." She managed to trash that song by slowing it down to DJ Screw levels and then bomb on the chorus, singing all the words instead of letting the robot voice take over like on wax. This was the low point, but it was probably the only one. Even songs like "Born Free," which I've never felt an affinity for, became the anthems that I'm sure she intended them to be when she wrote them. Probably helped that the girls had finally amassed on stage to show the boys that they will always be better dancers.
When the dust settled and the low end returned to silence once again, everyone was left to reflect on whether or not all that assault with a deadly strobe is really good for your senses. I would vote yes. I left feeling like I had come under the spell of an inescapable magnet for an hour, only one that was constantly eluding natural shapes and color patterns. And yes, she only played for an hour, which would usually elicit a vote of bullshit from me, but in this case - I'm not sure that I care. I would've gladly accepted more show, but I knew that what she had done during that hour, in terms of presence, songs and visual acrobatics, provoked more out of me than most artists can manage in two. I felt inspired and alive and no amount of criticism from the Times or Diplo can take that away from her.
