M.I.A. "Paper Planes"
“For many men and women, especially youth, the questions specific to citizenship, such as how we inform ourselves and who represents our interests, are answered more often than not through private consumption of commodities and media offerings than through the abstract rules of democracy or through participation in discredited political organizations.” --Nestor Garcia Canclini, Consumers & Citizens: Globalization and Multicultural Conflicts (buy)M.I.A.’s Visa troubles while recording Kala (a dead lock for my year-end top ten, but that’s later) were well-documented. She couldn’t get into the States—more specifically her studio in Brooklyn—because of her supposed connection with the Tamil Tigers, itself more of a performative construct than anything, but security theater is security theater. On “Paper Planes” (mp3), at this moment the greatest song in the world (or, “World Town,” as she’d have it), she addresses the issue directly: “Catch me at the border I got Visas in my name/ If you come around here I'll make em all day/ I'll get one done in a second if you wait.” Her level of cockiness in the face of international travel regulations—hold up a bit, lemme Photoshop up one-a-them. Is this what you need?—is awesome for two overlapping reasons. First, it’s only a short step from her lyric to Jay-Z's imagined dialogue from “99 Problems,” which addresses the same sort of power dynamic regarding “official” identification:
“Am I under arrest or should I guess some mo'?”Second, though, is the step M.I.A. takes toward the self-production of an official marker of citizenship: a bootleg copy of Photoshop makes one just as well. Further evidence that modern Third World protest music isn’t Bob Marley "One Love" territory anymore is the album cover, on which Maya takes the opportunity to introduce the world to her own, homemade form of currency, not backed by the FDIC or any state-run unit, but by the incendiary music contained behind it.
“Well you was doin fifty-five in a fifty-fo'
License and registration, and step out of the car
Are you carryin' a weapon on you I know a lot of you are”
“I ain't steppin out of shit, all my paper's legit.”
“Well, do you mind if I look round the car a little bit?”
“Well my glove compartment is locked so are the trunk in the back
And I know my rights so you gon' need a warrant for that.”
Kala is protest music for a globalized world, one in which the most effective way for Third Worlders to revolt (symbolically, of course for M.I.A.: I know she's on Interscope) is by dropping completely out of the established system of exchange. (A similar model has come from the US’s own Third World, known as much of the African-American urban population. Think about how releasing a mixtape without a UPC code functions similarly here.) It’s safe to assume, for instance, that when M.I.A. says in “Bamboo Banga” that she’s “knocking on the door of your Hummer-Hummer,” that she’s not looking for a lift.
Or in the album’s most stunning representation of this aesthetic ideology, the aforementioned “Paper Planes.” One verse here shows as well as The Wire (pre-paid wireless = “burners”), or the Clipse's Hell Hath No Fury what one sub-rosa form of Third World capitalism looks like:
No one on the corner had swag like usMost tellingly is M.I.A.’s rhetorical fashioning of the Handgun/Cash Register, unveiled for the first time during the song’s indelible chorus and represented iconically in the liner notes. The sort of cultural currency represented on the cover is not what’s being exchanged here; what she’s talking about is the “official” sort, and it’s taken by force. Like she says as the song ends, in one of the most appropriate turns-of-phrase on a record full of them, the new paradigm is indeed “funny business.”
Hit me on up on a pre-paid wireless
We pack and deliver like UPS trucks
Already going hell just pumping that gas
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Also: If you're in need of some chilly-morning walking soundtracking (full disclosure: this morning was rather nice here in Bloomington), go grab a typically-great Skatterbrain-curated indie pop mix. This one's called "By the Window in the Sky," and indeed, it's cuter than your baby.
Moreover: Why, oh why, oh why does Bo Ryan, the head coach for the Wisconsin Badgers basketball team and a primary rival for my (9th ranked!) Hoosiers, have to do this? Why must he make me like him? Why can't he just be content with being an enemy?
posted by marathonpacks at 2:39 PM
13 Comments:
Bo can dance that's for sure. I'm looking forward to seeing how he'll manage to win games with his less than impressive squad this year.
Fingers crossed.
I think you're right -- this is modern protest music, emphasis on the modern.
It's interesting to point out the "Hummer, Hummer" line in "Bamboo Banger," especially in light of her song being used in a Honda ad. Maybe she _is_ looking for a ride.
I think your insight about "dropping completely out of the established system of exchange" as a method of protest is especially relevant, but the most interesting part for me is the corollary -- using the established system whenever it fits. Like, say, getting your album pressed and distributed. Like you pointed out, she's on Interscope.
I don't think very many Third Worlders will ever hear Kala. But M.I.A. seems to somehow envelop both the Third World economy and the popular reaction to it -- vocal dissent and cultural tourism in the lounge chairs at Starbucks. She's showing us what's happening, sure, and she's angry, but isn't she up there on stage in bling and big sunglasses? And who's at the show? I can't help but wonder if the message is somehow completely wrapped up in trendy exercise (see "XR2") that no one -- M.I.A. included -- can avoid.
You draw some great parallels here w/ Clipse and Jay-Z. It's interesting how race (as in color, not national origin) hasn't been as prominent in the MIA discussion as gender. I've been trying to write something related to that for months, but the post languishes in the queue.
Dexter!
I suppose I'm being a bit more cynical about the whole thing, but isn't this a posture of opposition in-line with second wave punk. Like the Hebdige subcultural moment of participating in the very markets and capitalist structures that one claims to oppose. I mean we could go all Gramsci on it and see it as an underclass reversal of hegemony through the apparatus of the hegemon, but is she really that self-conscious? Yeah, the tune is about power relations, and the symbology is there, but I just don't think it's as profound (ontologically, semotically, and other -allies).
Then again, since it's not going on my top ten at the end of the year, I'm likely just not digging the music as much.
Nice write-up. I have to say I'm really not that impressed by Kala as a whole - only 2-3 tracks stuck out to me, this being the most obvious. But I think you're dead on with your impressions here.
@ donald:
I think a subcultural analysis is a place to start,sure, but it falls apart quickly for the reasons that Matt mentions above. I mean, Hebdige didn't allow much (if any) room for, as you write: "participating in the very markets and capitalist structures that one claims to oppose." That's sort of the thing that he argued against, actually! Which is why I think his perspective is best used as a springboard to newer, less abstract readings of style and cultural dissent. For instance, his definition of the "mainstream" as an abstract, monolithic, and ahistorical concept is ideal, and helps his argument immensely, but doesn't account for the constant give-and-take between the mainstream and the subalterns it picks from (and, of course, vice versa). MIA's certainly part of the dominant culture, as I slightly mentioned (and as Matt continued), but I'm more interested with her performative protest, instead of her actual, on the ground dissent.
I think it's very tempting to say these sorts of things about Kala--certainly MIA is encouraging you to--but ultimately, taking MIA at her word that she's representative of something larger than herself misses the real significance of the album. After all, the "world music" that tends to appeal to western music nerds is the kind that blends traditional and modern styles, but once you bring in modern styles, it's now the creation of an individual artist (or particular group of artists) rather than the collective product of a culture, and as such it can no longer really be regarded as a product of that culture. It's ultimately going to be an expression, at best, of the particular artist's experience of that culture, and that's what we're getting here.
The significance of Kala is that traditionalism is not being presented as a method of resistence. Rather, traditionalism is no longer an option; modernity has too strong a hold for anyone to preach the alternative with any credibility. I think you're wrong that what she's depicting here is "dropping completely out of the established system of exchange." Rather, this is the established system of exchange in many West African countries: the black market, individual propriatorships competing for microslices of an urban market, etc., all of which are far more prevelant than orderly American consumerism.
If you want to be all radicaly about it (and I suspect MIA does), you could say what's "knocking on the doors of your Hummer" isn't some space of resistence, but the realities of global capitalism that the West is blind to--that the life in these countries isn't agrarian tribal or happy industrialism but something much more chaotic in between that is nevertheless sucessfully navigated by the people within it, people who are getting fucked over but who nevertheless have some ability to resist the degredations of everyday life as Western citizens. I think the protesty stuff is a bit silly (I mean, Babel), but as an individual's depicton of life in certain areas of the world, it's fantastic.
Oops, I mean East African and Southeast Asian countries.
Also, I'm all Dan Rather up in there, aren't I?
@ mike:
first, I never called Kala “world music,” nor do I receive it that way. She certainly pitches he product that way, but with obviously ironic distance (“world town). I mean, your take on what the academy has dubbed “world music” is fine, but I think you’re straw-manning me into that argument without much background from my original post.
Second, you’re right that my phrase "dropping completely out of the established system of exchange" is wrong; what I meant to say is that she’s creating her own performative system of exchange. I agree with you (and it’s more or less in the post) that this sort of thing is already going on everywhere. What I don’t agree with is the fact that it’s “far more prevalent than American consumerism.” I think you underestimate the pervasiveness of American consumerism; partially because a lot of the subaltern forms exist purely in a dialectic relationship to it! I mean, it’s stupid to argue that “markets” don’t predate globalized American consumerism, but I think it’s glossing over a lot to pretend that they’ve not been forced to change a lot of how they operate as a result.
And we seem to be on the same page re: the way 3rd worlders can incorporate Western messages and commercialism into their own ways of being, but maybe I wasn’t clear about my use of the word “protest.” I’m not meaning it in the way that the Clash meant it, nor do I think that’s how M.I.A. means it. I don’t think she’s trying to spur any sort of fundamental change in how things operate (nor do I care to hear that in pop music, but that’s another story altogether).
I think she’s playing with the idea of “protest music” in really stunning and novel ways, first and foremost by foregrounding the fact that she’s not representing any one particular place, but a big chunk of the African/SE Asian “third world” as it exists now, which is largely conceived as a network of financial/technological organizations (see: Appadurai). That’s what I love about this album: she’s cocky and over-simple with her slogans and professions of “representing,” to the point that they sort of lose all meaning. Which is great, because, y’know, slogans.
What I do mean to say is probably best expressed in that quote at the top of the page, which I sort of see you agreeing with in your last graf: citizenship in colonized countries is more and more turning into a representation of consumerism (see: Bordieu), which is replacing those outdated, more abstracted notions of “democracy,” etc., which the US has of course done its part in diluting to the point of meaninglessness.
As always, thanks for the comment!
Thanks for the responses, especially to Mike which cleared up a lot of the misgivings I had about the original post. Three things:
a) You're absolutely right on Hebdige... I reacted on the first post and was totally unclear when I read it back. As it happens with so many theoretical strains, I suppose I'm more interested in subcultural theory post-Hebdige, especially what those like Hesmondhalgh have done with it in doing precisely what you say - i.e. recognize the mainstream as heterogenous (if not heteronymous as well, which is a whole other ball of wax, but pretty important). I threw out Gramsci to make the point that I'm not totally in line with Hebdige (his read of hegemony and resistance is a particular apprehension of Gramsci - and quite possibly a misapprehension in many ways), but think that subcultural critique is useful - and I don't see it falling apart in the ways that Mattb pointed out if we're conscious of the "mainstream" as being dynamic, in ways that Hesmondhalgh, for instance, is.
b) I initially posted because of the way that performance theory seemed to be sliding in the back door... and it's cool to see you being deliberate in the responses about the way you're using it. I do agree that there's a performative resistance here, but I was unclear on how you were using protest, like you said. Either way, I've just took on a project discussing the performance of resistance in particular indie scenes and I'd be interested in your responses to it. If you want, I'll get in touch privately about it.
c) I have huge problems with the unclear designations of "academy" and "music nerds" in the designation of world music. The phrase is entirely contested in academic spheres, and can't be reduced to "the kind that blends traditional and modern styles." If so, how do we explain the centrality of Riverdance and Buena Vista Social Clubs to world music markets? This is a bigger discussion to be had (not on this blog) that's way more nuanced that the dismissals here. That's a hobbyhorse for another day, though.
nice piece. are you aware of the remix to 'paper planes' with bun b and rich boy? it adds an interesting dimension to MIA's gangsterisms, and raises the old questions of rap as exploitation vs rap as the voice of the exploited. it's also pretty good.
@ donald:
If I had this post to do over again, I’d definitely add a more performance-centric approach. I think the problem with this is that I wrote it too quickly, and left out the nuance that comes with sitting on something for a day or two. Damn you, Internet.
I think protest music is most often a performative display of resistance, and what I think M.I.A.’s doing here is, more or less, calling on that tradition for purely aesthetic and selfish reasons. Which I love. I mean, she’s fully aware of the inherent contradictions in her sloganeering, but she’s not trying to change the world, either. In performative parlance, I’d guess she’s “doing being a protester.” But man, I wish I would have gone into more detail about my use of the word “protest.” Also: that line about “dropping out of the system of exchange.” Thanks, Donald!
@ marathonpacks:
Yeah, go with that! My take on Kala is that it's a kind of joke about protest music. She's enacting these routines of a "third world" [<--scare quotes, not direct quotes] musician in order to play with the expectations of her intended audience. And I don't know if you can really call that selfish or aesthetic--it's a kind of political move, too (though it's also very much an artistic challenge). What she's doing is reveling in the very meaninglessness of that gesture of resistence that her audience has come to expect by someone with her symbol cluster, and that's a real stick in the eye. Those slogans are aggressively empty. The real heart of the album is the wealth of details about everyday life, details that it's unclear the West is too interested in hearing. (We seem more interested in interchangable stories of suffering.) And that's one way of exploiting the actual function of art in service of a political agenda. Drawing those lines between Bangladesh and Harlem, which you can only do with the same sorts of specific, individualized details that pop up in Jay-Z songs, is a leveling gesture, an attempt to humanize a population we tend to see as masses. I suppose I should just write a post on this too.
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