Black Melodies

I didn’t much care for what my friends were listening to growing up, meaning I was rarely passed aux. A truth which, I believe, was more their loss than my own... I’ve always gravitated to the oldies—and if genre titles such as shoegaze and folktronica can exist, I say Oldies deserves a legitimate name in the books.

But don't worry, I’ll save you the personal rundown and get on with a few of my favorite female musicians. These include some of the Greatest Of All Time; the women who moved mountains in their industry just as they did in their daily lives. They are the genius idols and true visionaries we certainly don’t deserve, the black women we love; those who’ve ingrained their mark in the consciousness of our time—and those who have personally changed my view on life. Only question is where to begin.

Les Filles De Illighadad

Last summer I picked up some old magazines from Mill’s Record Company, one of which was Maggot Brain, named after the groundbreaking all-black group, Funkadelic. But more on them later. Inside was a full-page spread of an all-female music trio doing their thing from a remote commune at the edge of the Saharas. The group goes by the name Les Filles De Illighadad. Lead singer, Fatou Seidi Ghali, one of the only female Taureg guitarists in Niger, taught herself to play by running off at night with her older brother’s guitar.

If you’re wondering, Tuareg guitar encompasses traditional folk music extending into a vast catalog of genres. Most recently psychedelic rock and desert blues—both of which point in the direction of Les Filles’ poetic, jazzy compositions; yet neither quite hit the mark. Remember when I said the band is an all-female group? Yeah, well, I lied. Lead vocalist and genius behind the melodious enchantment of songs like "Imigradan" and "Lagé" recently offered up space for her older brother on rhythm guitar and backup vocals. Whether they’re performing on stage or desert sand, one can’t help but notice Fatou’s brother smiling proudly at the sight of these women creating nothing short of magic.

Let it be known that Fatou’s father tried to deter her from what he believed was a waste of time. He thought she’d be better off looking after the cows in her village. The perfect example that sometimes the best thing we can do is listen to our parents’ advice and walk in the other direction. A lesson in paving our own way, and a testament to female resilience and the faith in following one’s passion—traits that inspire generations of artists to come.

More of these women, please!

Listen to "Imigradan" above

Les Filles offers something beyond the labels of genre or the well-intended dart throws of the critics at Pitchfork. Their music, if you’re truly listening, is nearly transcendent. I can say in all transparency, it’s offered me the closest glimpse of something holy that I’ve experienced in years. You’ll be doing yourself a great disservice by passing them by. Close your bedroom door, or if you’re fortunate to be in warmer weather, go outside, put on the album "African Acid is the Future," and dance to the tune of existence. You’ll be glad you did.

Billie Holiday

It’s time. None better than Lady Day herself: Billie Holiday.

A name I’d heard only a handful of times during my middle and high school years, and most notably from Perks of Being a Wallflower?

Yikes.

Still, I couldn’t put a face to that name. And in hindsight, I’m deeply ashamed. But I didn’t come from a family with refined music tastes (or film for that matter... sorry, mom) and so I was late to the game—and that’s my final excuse. But as they say, better late than never.

I happen to be an unfortunate case of the hopeless romantic, and I’ve yet to find another woman on this revolving rock to express the impossible quite like her. I’m talking about the multifaceted grief caused by the mental illness known more commonly as Love. If music reveals the soul, Billie Holiday sacrificed her life to dive into her own and reach the hearts of many with songs such as "Crazy He Calls Me" and "Strange Fruit." And let’s not forget her pivotal role traversing the Deep South, raising awareness of the lynching forever etched in our history. This was in the '30s and '40s; decades before musicians would use their platform to bring activism to the mainstream. I'm talking about artists like The Beatles, Bob Dylan, Dave Matthews, Nirvana and so on. But this was a Woman. More importantly, a Black Woman—one who was way ahead of her time. And she would not be deterred by disapproval from those in her industry, nor by the pressure and opposition from the powers that be.

A true force of magnitude.

And more on this; Billie was a prostitute. Plain fact. I find it frustrating when I see media—even the progressive, contemporary stuff—gloss over this with a sheen of rosy specs. She was a woman who embodied her truth, rain or shine. She was a powerhouse and pioneer of the Civil Rights Movement, as well as in experimentation in genre-fusion and female autonomy alike. There's simply no reason to admire her in singulars... and we should all thank Billie the next time we commend those in sex work today.

Billie was a storyteller desperately needed by her generation—one who still influences the evolution of art today. If I can share some of my favorite lines, ones that never fail to send a wave of electricity down my spine, I’ll begin with "Fine and Mellow."

Pure poetry.

Love is just like a faucet

It turns off and on…

Sometimes when you think it’s on, baby

It has turned off and gone.

No better description of romantic love, that timeless display of madness.

Next is "I’ll Look Around," another song like none other:

I'll look around until I've found

Someone who laughs like you

I'll look around and when I've found

Someone who sighs like you,

I'll know this love I'm dreaming of

Won't be the old love I always knew

Just bury me already. I won’t bother expressing the inexpressible. Practically a crime.

Next stop,

Nina Simone

Imagine witnessing her perform. An experience of a lifetime no doubt.

One of the most beautiful songs I’ve come to know was made popular by the one and only Nina; "Ne Me Quitte Passe." I can’t remember the name of the documentary where I first heard it, what the film was about, nor the French words she whispered between crescendo and fall. I only remember a few images of bleak winter flash over the TV screen and a voice that paralyzed me. I was transfixed. I thought to myself, there’s no need to listen to anything else. This song had done it. "Ne Me Quitte Passe" translates to "Do not leave me," but you don't need to know French to understand what's behind those words.

Another must-listen if you’ve yet to immerse yourself in the world of Nina (which is actually a crime, FYI) is "Stars." And I challenge you to listen to her without shedding a solitary tear. You’d be a stronger person than I.

Perhaps pretending you never saw the eyes of grown men of twenty-five

that follow as you walk and ask for autographs

Or kiss you on the cheek

and you never can believe they really loved you.

With crooning purity and visceral strength, Nina was a woman who embodied passion. She tasted life and pain and translated each symbiotically, as light. As love. It’s precisely these reasons that she still lives on today, for death can’t stop the timeless.

Nina singing Ne Me Quitte Pas, December 1971

An Afterthought

I have had the privilege of experiencing life without knowing criticism as a black woman does. I have not felt the cruelty or casual dismissal that comes attached to dark skin, nor have I witnessed my loved ones be subject to the harmful ignorance passed on through generations; all of which would have crumbled a sensitive someone like myself. I've been lucky. And while I and millions of others are grateful for change and are no longer willing to acquiesce while living among hate, there are miles more progress to be made.

To be a woman is to live with caution for the sake of our protection and growth, as we live in societies that have yet to know peace. And to be a woman with black skin, whether in traditional African villages, amid the segregated streets of America in the 17th century and beyond—and even today as our black brothers and sisters face unremitting inequity in our justice systems, our communities, and in their families' safety and wellbeing—I will never understand how any woman with such obstacles can continue to walk with spirit, determination, and unadulterated freedom each and every day she wakes. These are the characteristics that Nina (and many others like her) practiced each and every day. And through the self-mastery of these women, the rest of us might learn how to love before all else.

To Nina and all other black women who have taught me what it means to live genuinely; to be brave in the face of the unknown, to love fearlessly and not to run from pain—thank you. Your beauty and capacity for moving others not only reached me, but it altered my sense of self through the only means which I could hear. These women are true forces of nature. And we are lucky beyond recognition that they were chosen by music—the only language universal to all mankind.

I'll close with a few more lines from Nina as she praises some of the women who engendered the impossible:

But anyway, I'm trying to tell my story

Janis Ian told it very well

Janis Joplin told it even better

Billie Holiday even told it even better

We always, we always, we always have a story

-Stars

To the beautiful black artists, leaders, and everyday women uplifting humanity from small communities, and to those who’ve taken the world by storm, changing the face of music forever and transforming the way we live as a society, I simply would not be who I am without you.

So thank you, for changing the world.