Aunty Muva Badu

“Bag lady you gon hurt your back, dragging all them bags like that.” A funny line I never understood until I was old enough to let go of my baggage.

Funny how the lyrics of our favorite songs influence our nature.

It was just two weeks ago that I argued with my family members on the importance of Erykah’s “Window Seat” promenade through the hood stripping down all that existed to cover her truth, her nakedness.

Funny how people don’t understand the importance of letting things go.

...Or letting things roll on. Like my cypher or a Rolling Stone. Even in Christianity removing barriers, rolling away that stone, opened the conscious mind to the idea of hope and miracles.

Where am I going with this? I know. I’m everywhere, but I’m present. See, Erykah Badu is my favorite artist of all time. Random fun fact: artists who impact my life get familial titles, so I consider her my Aunty Muva. You know the Aunty that is close enough to you to be your momma. Well there you have it. Anyway, she’s a proud black woman, and I am the same. Her unapologetic uniqueness speaks volumes about the courage and strength that she carries as a human and woman artist.

“Love of my life” was the first video to really catch my eye. The vibrance, the color, but mostly, the ode to hip hop. Erykah Badu’s lyrics with uncommon vocals and Common’s comforting poetic serenade rolled a stone away from my musical cave. For once, I saw The Light, in the most living way possible. I realized in that moment that creativity in music is boundless. The Love of My Life video proved that a singer with an abnormal but captivating vocal tone could dominate both hip hop and soul simultaneously.

So what does any of this have to do with me?

Well, for those who don’t know me personally, my name is Lolly Mariah. I am a singer, songwriter, music educator,... you name it. Over the past 4 years of seriously working in the industry, I’ve struggled. Struggled with the fact that I’m a singer with a hip hop mind.

Here’s what I mean by that. Whenever you hear that someone can sing, you ask them to sing a song. They get brownie points for singing a familiar tune. You expect them to whip out Anita Baker, or Chaka Khan, or Jill Scott, or Fantasia, or something. It’s not the same for rappers! Ask a rapper to spit 16, and more than likely they’ll spit their own bars or freestyle. That just ain’t fair.

I’m no rapper, but the art of lyricm exists heavily in my world. I’m a poet at heart, and I share my poetry through singing. Give me a live band, or even an instrumental track and 3 words and I’ll create a full song on the spot. I might be even more creative when I’m elevated, wink wink. When someone wants me to sing, I’d much rather sing an original or freestyle than to perform someone else’s song. (Unless it’s Erykah Badu or a NeoSoul artist I’m really rocking with.)

Anyway, Erykah Badu paved the way for artists like me who appreciate the art of hip hop, but bring soul to the table. She grabbed the mic for women artists who don’t always get passed the mic at the cyphers. She trailblazed the space for black women mainstream artists to wear their colors and head wraps and burn sage before shows. She paved the way for me to let go of society’s bull crap definitions of what a black woman has to look and sound like in music. She let the cypher roll like a rolling stone for me.

Shout out to Erykah Badu , my Aunty Muva.

If you have extra time, check out my ode to NeoSoul on SoundCloud.