Goodbye Obama…

In honor of the end of an era, I compiled a playlist to help mourn the end of having a black president. I wrote about my complex emotions in depth, at AllthePrettyBirds.com. I’m still dealing with my own shame around being sad at the loss of the Obama’s in the White House. I’m not supposed to be emotionally attached to the government. I’m supposed to know better. But fuck it, I’m sad. He was a good president. I had free healthcare. Even more people will get deported and the World will suffer greatly under El Cheeto. And so goes on the legacy of the United States of America.

So I’m pouring some liquor out for the Obamas, and drinking a bit myself.

Solange sings Black Girl Existentialism in “A Seat at The Table”

There is nothing new about Solanges’ third studio album, A Seat at the Table. But that’s what’s so great about it.

2016 has been an intense year to be black. Not that it’s ever easy, but some years are calmer than others. 1996 and 2008 stand out in particular as Moesha debuted on UPN that year and Obama won his first term, respectively. 1864, was probably lit too. But 2016, has been straight garbage. The next President of the country will (hopefully) be the lesser of two evils, the lesser (we think) is Hilary Clinton, who had a major hand in the creation of the prison industrial complex and coined the term “super predator” in regards to young black men.  So, as urban cities in the United States awash in waves of well deserved violence and the amount of police officers killing black citizens rise like the level of CO2 in the atmosphere; 2016 goes down in the books as the year that things were shitty and more people, including Solange grew tired of it.

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image created by Sophia Gach-Rasool @yeshi_is

A Seat at the Table is a dense album that floats like a feather sonically because Solange has been making music professionally since she was a pre teen and did not come to play with you hoes. It’s also clear that Solange has been paying attention to the young indie artists, as her album is comparable to newcomer Jamila Woods’ Heavn EP and Noname Gypsys’ Telefone. Two black women from Chicago telling similar stories about the overwhelmingly unique experience of contemporary blackness in the United States of America.

The title of the album is inspired by civil rights activist James Forman and his famous quote, “If we can’t have a seat at the table, then let’s…knock the fucking legs off”. The tone and style of the album references the civil rights era in lyric and song styles. This is aligned with Solange’s personal sound. Solo Star, her first studio album, featured a teenage Solange on the cover in her red, black and green knit cap. The album also had strong reggae vibes. Sol-Angel and the Hadley St. Dreams found Solange heavily influenced by the 1960’s and Motown vibes. Even her True EP featured visuals in South Africa. Solange has always had a political and almost folk music vibe, but this album is her strongest admission into that style yet.

The first four tracks set the tone and present the problem of what all black people are experiencing right now and honestly, always have been. “Black existentialism” the critique of the way black life is treated and an affirmation of black humanity, is thick throughout this album. Apparently the residue of being descendants of the people that literally built the United States of America, and yet are historically under credited, is heavy. Solange is intentional in how she arranged her music, as “Rise” is almost an overture of the album. “Fall in your ways / so you can sleep at night”, airy and simple, with just a piano, kick drum and synth, the track asks the listener to be honest about who they are, so that they can sleep at night, wake up and rise. Rise possibly meaning ascension in this context.  And from this proclamation of honesty we get into “Weary”.

This song, like the Mr. Krabs blurry meme and Arthur fist meme have managed to sum up 2016. We’re are all tired and angry and the more naïve of us are confused as to how we even got to this current state of the world. She speaks of going to look for her body and glory in the chorus in regards to the appropriation of the black female body. Since the creation of this country, it’s been bought and sold, commoditized and consumed, worn as costume and used for experimentation. But it’s never been ours, as black women. Even in our own communities we’ve never been free to own and exist in our own bodies on our terms. The great poet and playwright Ntozake Shange, wrote the poem “somebody almost walked off wid alla my stuff” for the lady in green in her seminal “for Colored Girls who have considered suicide/when the rainbow is enuf”. This song is a direct heir of that poem. Now go do your Googles. The heaviness of “going to look for your body” as a woman, is perilous because from the day you’re born with a vagina, or decide that you want to get one made, is the fact that you will face a lot of bullshit. “You’re leaving/ not a trace in the world” Solange sings, and everyday black and brown girls go missing and are met with radio silence. There are about 64,000 black women missing in the United States of America right now, whose gonna look for your body? Solange evokes, Fannie Lou Hammer’s infamous quote “I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired” on this track, and the congregation says, “Amen.”

From there we’re carried into the beautifully soft existential crisis that is “Cranes in the Sky”, where Solange makes us all question our own behavior. Co-produced by Raphael Saadiq, it is an extremely personal and poetic song, that was actually written 8 years ago. It should be a Grammy contender. Solange sings of an “it” that we have all been trying to cure. Working out, buying clothes, traveling, all the things that the world say will make us feel better, just isn’t working. How many ways can you try and “insert action” a feeling away? The cleverness of this song is that the “it” is elusive and never named but we all know what it is. I’ve never heard depression sang of so beautifully. Some may assume that a failed romantic love caused this crisis, because Solange is a woman and that patriarchy juice is strong. But nevertheless, the following interlude gives context.

In the interlude “Dad was Mad” Solanges’ father Matthew Knowles recants his experience of integrating his school as a child and the anger that he lived with as result leads into the Lil Wayne assisted track “Mad”. “Mad” a very literal song, adds context to the general tone of her album, if you haven’t figured out that this album is about Solanges’ personal life as well as the shared black experience. Since Barack Obama has been President, people have been putting words together that make no sense, like “post” and “racial” and “reverse” and “racism”. It seems Solange is just as flabbergasted as the rest of us as to how we’ve reached a point where people aren’t allowed to be angry at their experienced injustice, just because Barack Obama is president. Tweet’s ethereal voice plainly states, “I’ve got a lot to be mad about.” And we all know exactly what she’s talking about. The bluntness of this song juxtaposed with the silkiness of Solange and Tweet’s voice helps us all swallow a bitter pill of reality.

This part of the album, gets less philosophical and more literal as Solange moves away from alluding to depression and sadness to straight up naming her pain and the perpetrators of the offense. “Don’t You Wait” an upbeat track, more sonically aligned to her TRUE EP sound, talks about “biting the hand that feeds you” and no longer wanting to waste time by knowing someone. This record is in direct response to one of the many infamous twitter rants Solange gave earlier in the year. Jon Caramanica a NYT music journalist, stressed that Solange may run the risk of biting the hands that feeds her, in regards to her stance on who can critique R&B music and black culture. Jon implied that Solange needs her white indie fan base to exist. In a sense, “Don’t You Wait”, is a good bye kiss to the whiteness Solange may have found herself immersed in while creating TRUE and living in Brooklyn. If this is true, her move to the south around 2013 could have lead to the following track, “Don’t Touch My Hair”.

This gem on the album is a read that only a black woman could deliver. White people literally have no understanding of the complexity of black hair. From the texture to the way it stands up instead of falling limp, Solange sings “they don’t understand/ what it means to me/ where we chose to go/ where we’ve been, to know” Slaves once braided paths to freedom into each other’s heads. Now Kim Kardashian is being credited for a style that literally cost tears. As a young black girl, you sat in between your mother’s leg, or whoever was doing it and cried because combing through kinky hair hurts. It hurts your scalp and it hurts whoever is combing your hair to watch your cry, but it’s a necessary evil because black hair must be tamed and controlled.  It’s infuriating. This country literally writes laws about how we can wear it. The recent decision that makes bans on dreadlocks legal in 2016 is nothing but a child of the ban that women of color in the 1800s faced. They were forced to cover their hair in public to control the growing influence of free blacks in Louisiana as well as keep white men’s sexual desires and white women’s’ jealousy at bay.

“I rode the ride/I gave it time” makes me think of that perilous time in a black girls’ life when she cuts the perm out of her hair and has to watch her natural texture, which has become unnatural to her by now, “grow out”. She literally has to give her hair time to grow. And it’s indeed a “ride” to have short kinky hair. She may lose her lover, her job, her self esteem. She’s risking a lot to be herself. So when she has to watch videos of white women creating weird ass “afros” and being called avant-garde for it, it’s nauseating. But Solange delivers this sentiment  soulfully and gracefully. Her voice is soft and the horns are smooth and the commands to not touch certain aspects of our culture, like our voice and our soul are delivered seamlessly over cowbells. Fucking cowbells. How can Solange encapsulate peak American blackness so well? Just when you think you’ve reached the climax she makes a subtle turn into the image heavy ballad, “Where Do We Go”.

In an interview with Saint Heron, Solanges’ mother Tina Knowles talks about how her family ended up in Texas. Mama Tina’s parents were run out of New Iberia, Louisiana after a mining incident that trapped her father. The mining company left her father and another man to die. Luckily half of the miners were related to Tina’s father and they rescued him. Unfortunately, this resulted in the termination of half of the family from the company for “breaking the rules”. In a classic power move, the mining company then rehired half of the family, which successfully divided the family, as the employed family members were no longer allowed to interact with the unemployed. “A molotov cocktail was actually thrown into my parents’ home, and at that moment they decided to leave for Galveston” says Tina Lawson in the interview. The lyrics “No I don’t know where to do/No, I don’t know where to stay” could be Solange channeling her grand parents anxiety over their sudden displacement. The song could also be used to talk about the violent gentrification that major cities around the world are facing right now. Solanges’ personal experiences are mirroring the state of the world in a way that makes this album feel formative. “We bowed our heads/We broke our bread that night/Shook our hands/Then conquer and divide” is a lyric about how the mining company disrupted her family. But it could also be talking about the history of Thanksgiving, easily. It’s her ability to be speaking about a very specific personal issue while simultaneously recanting historical events that makes this album Solanges’ showcase of how far she’s come as a songwriter and artist. She wrote and arranged every song on this album. And she’s really proud of the work she and her artistic partners have done. So much so that she made, “F.U.B.U”.

Co-produced and written by the Dream, “F. U. B. U.” is an acronym, For Us, By Us, which was the name of a black owned clothing company in the 1990s. “F.U.B.U” is another literal song. She starts the song by speaking to “all her niggas, in the whole wide world” and goes on to talk about how this shit is for us, by us. The “shit” could mean a lot of things, music, dance, art, peanut butter, all things that were created by black people belong to black people and shouldn’t be touched. Frankly, Solange is no longer with the shits. The shits being the blatant theft of black culture. I vote that F.U.B.U be entered into the new National Museum of African American History and Culture. Solange being an intentional artist and healer takes us out of the heavy emotion that  “Don’t Touch my Hair” “Where Do We Go” and “F.U.B.U” places us in. Just when you’re ready to curse out all your white co workers, she slides us into the up tempo track, “Borderline” co-produced by Q-Tip.

When you’ve “been more than a woman” and “lovers on a mission” sometimes you need a safe space to relax and “take an intermission”. Thus the shift into self care begins with much help from the Aaliyah sampled track. (RIP BabyGirl). Sonically Solange leaves the somber and heaviness of the beginning of the album on “Borderline” which, interestingly makes us feel borderline, to be going from tears to dancing in two songs. It’s an heir to Maya Angelou’s poem, Weekend Glory, which talks about the glory that is to be black on a Saturday night. The mood continues into the next track.

“Junie” the Andre 3000 assisted up tempo song is an ode to Junie Morrison, a legend in the music game and former member of the Ohio Players and Parliament Funkadelic. Although the mood is light and funky, Solange still manages to get some jabs at white supremacy in with the lyrics, “You want to be the teacher/ Don’t want to go to school/ Don’t want to do the dishes/ Just want to eat the food”. Even while caring for self and enjoying the glory that is to be black on a Saturday night, Solange is quick to remind you that even when she’s enjoying herself she knows what’s really going on in the world right now. “Don’t Wish Me Well” is another drop in the no fucks given bucket. She seems to be speaking directly to all her critics. She says she’s going all the way, but she’ll leave on the lights and mic for “you.” “You” being the world at large. That critic. Those who always have something to say. She’s stated her case with this album and she’s standing her ground.  She knows you’ll have something to say, but she’s already moving on to her next creative endeavor.

The last song “Scales” featuring Kelela is a dreamy track that makes you want to make out in a car. It seems to be an ode to young black men, specifically the kind of young black men who are targeted by the police. “Look on the TV/they all want to be me” Solange sings in a sweet falsetto commenting on the avid consumerism of black urban culture. This admission makes the presence of Master P, the great rap tycoon who revolutionized the way hip hop made money off itself, all the more empowering. Narrating the album in an Morgan Freeman God like voice, he talks about how watching the Avon lady in his neighborhood pop her trunk to sell her product influenced him to sell his music the same way, despite being offered a million dollars from a record company. Betting on himself, because he knew the white music exec was underestimating his worth he went on to start his own label amongst other things, and went on to make Forbes 40 under 40 list. His tales of entrepreneurship add empowerment to an otherwise frustratingly honest album about the unique and complicated experience of being black in the present day United States of America.

Revolutionary, this album is not. It’s not even revolutionary for Solange whose voice has always been rebellious and at times almost bratty. Being the sister of Beyoncé, allows one to live in a very interesting space. “I mirror the life of a millionaire/and I’m sorry if I’m talking shit/ but I really do mean well” she sang on her first track “God Given Name” from her album, Sol-Angel and the Hadley St. Dreams. She’s managed to be accepted by the indie crowds while not actually being fully indie, at least financially. But she talks like she’s independent, because she is. She doesn’t have much to lose when it comes to her artistry. She’s the little sister of Beyonce, that will always loom over her and financially protect her.  But that’s why she was able to make “A Seat at the Table”. An album full of sentiment that I’m sure every black pop artist has felt while existing in the industry. The fact that it resonates so earnestly with other facets of black life is simply fate.  This album is what happens when artists are given space and freedom to express what’s really going on without fear of backlash. “A Seat at the Table” is a beautiful musing on black existentialism for black girls who are angry when being Beyoncé’s sister isn’t enough to protect you from the bullshit of white supremacy.

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Abdu Ali fala sobre Visibilidade

Ontem, o artista/rapper/embaixado de Baltimore, Abdu Ali deu uma palestra no sujeito de “Visibilidade” na galera bb. Abdu não ficou preocupado com os sentimentos de ninguém quando ele estava falando a verdade sobre o estado de arte na cidade de Baltimore e as maneras no qual a gente pode trabalhar juntos para cambiar-lo. Ficando no espaço intimo na galera cômoda, Abdu ficou sentando, falando o saber como uma titia sábia.Os seguientes são ums dos puntos que me deixou pensando:

• Formar uma colectiva

Temos poder em números. Pode achar as raízes do crescimento novo da escena de arte em Baltimore nums grupos ou numas colectivas. Abdu falou claramente da diferença entre uma colectiva e um “club de meninos legais.” Uma colectiva só forma quando os individuos trocem os talentos até a mesa e façam uma coisa nova. Ele não estava falando de formar um clique. A gente não esta no colegio. Mas uma colectiva tem o poder de crear conexões em todas demograficas, assegurar que diversas vozes são ouvidas, e também que o trabalho está espalado entre a gente equalmente. Não podemos fazer tudo sozinha, mas a gente pode fazer a nossa propria parte.

• Não esperar pras pessoas brancas

É facil mesmo pra entender, mas dá pra repetir. Eles não vão te dar o dinheiro para atuar a sua exposição? Use o internet pra juntar dinheiro e atue-lo por você mesmo. Eles não vão te dar um emprego? Començe seu própio negócio. Já sabemos que eles ganharam os recursos injustamente. Então, aqui vemos a importância da criatividade. Como disse o Malcolm X, precisamos seguir as nossas esforças “por qualquer meio necessário.”

• Investir em todas as idades

A cidade de Baltimore é uma merda. Do sistema de escola pública até os centros de recreação a nossa Baltimore não é uma cidade amigável pros jovems. Mas isso significa se você abrir sua cena aos menores de 21 anos, você tem um público cativo. Também, as crianças são o futuro.

• Aprender de usar o internet

Financiamento público é real. Se o mais próximo de você não tem confianza no seu movimento, pode ter certeza que existe alguém no internet que vai quer de te apoiar. Só precisam de saber que o existe. E aí, o internet!

• Usar o espaço que você já tem pra criar uma maior demanda

Embora parece que há casas mais abandonadas do que as pessoas em Baltimore City, é muito difícil para as pessoas a criar galerias ou espaços. Há cerca de um punhado de espaços dispostos a ser eventos de aventura e de acolhimento para certos dados demográficos, especificamente jovens de cor. Isso é foda, mas como Abdu sugeriou, se estiver usando o seu espaço de vida não funcionar, continuar a trabalhar com os espaços que não aceitá-lo, mantenha a embalagem desses shows e talvez o seu sucesso com make outros locais tomar conhecimento.

Depois de sua apresentação, ele se abriu para perguntas. Embora todo mundo estava um pouco tímido no início, ele cresceu para ser um espaço seguro onde as pessoas tem que cair na real sobre o que parece ser a raiz de todos os problemas nesta cidade. Racismo. É bom saber que Baltimore é um dos melhores lugares do mundo para aprender e falar sobre esta parte muito real da realidade de todos. Eu fiz uma pergunta para todos os nativos de Baltimore que deixam a cidade e, finalmente, encontrar o nosso caminho de volta para casa, como podemos melhor representar para a nossa cidade quando estamos longe e preservar a nossa cultura quando voltar? Abdu respondeu que devemos parar de ser vergonha de nossa cidade. Ele encorajou viagens, mas ele também não se esqueça de trazer o que você aprende em casa. Em geral, foi uma palestra muito interessante, que me poderes para continuar a me expressar e buscar a ser visível.

Finalemente, Abdu disse o seguinte em relação as pessoas que tentava de implementar essas mudanças:

“precisamos levar essa merda á serio ou tudo será a piada por sempre.”

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Abdu Ali Speaks on Visibility.

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Last night, rapper/artist/Baltimore ambassador, Abdu Ali gave a lecture on “Visibility” at bb gallery. Always a truth teller Abdu spared no one’s feelings when talking about the state of Art in Baltimore City and the ways we all can work together to change it. Nestled in the imitate space of the cozy gallery, Abdu sat cross legged and kick knowledge like a wise Aunty. He gave a powerpoint assisted lecture, here are a few bullet points that stuck with me.

  • Form a collective

There is power in numbers. The new rise of the Baltimore art scene can be traced back to groups or collectives. Abdu made sure to point the difference between a collective and a “cool kids club”. A collective only occurs when individuals bring their talents to the table and make something new. He wasn’t saying form a clique. This isn’t high school. But a collective can reach across demographics and ensure that not only are many voices heard, but work is decimated equally. We can’t all do everything, but we can all do our part.

  • Don’t wait on white people

This is pretty straight forward, but it bares repeating. They won’t give you grant money to host your exhibit? Raise funds through the internet and host it yourself. They won’t hire you? Start your own. We know they have unjustly acquired most of the resources, but that’s where creativity comes into play. We have to be like Malcolm and pursue our artistic endeavors “by any means necessary”

  • Invest in ALL AGES

Baltimore City eats it young. From the public school system to the lack of recreation centers this is not a youth friendly city. That being said, if you dare open up your scene to people 21 and under, you basically have a captive audience. Plus, the children are the future.

  • Be Internet Friendly

Crowd funding is real. If the one’s closest to you don’t believe in your movement. you can be sure that there is someone out there who will. They just need to know it exists. Enter “the Internet”.

  • Use the Space you already have to grow a higher demand

Although it seems like there are more abandoned houses than people in Baltimore City, it’s really hard for people to set up galleries or spaces. There are about a handful of spaces willing to be adventurous and host events for certain demographics, specifically young, POC. That sucks, but as Abdu suggested, if using your living space doesn’t work, continue to work with the spaces that do accept you, keep packing those shows and maybe your success with make other venues take notice.

After his presentation, he opened up for questions. Although everyone was a little shy at first, it grew to be a safe space where people got real about what seems to be the root of all problems in this city. Racism. It’s nice to know that Baltimore is still one of the best places in the world to learn and talk about this very real part of everyone’s reality. I asked a question for all the Baltimore natives who leave the city and ultimately find our way back home, how can we better represent for our city when we are away and preserve our culture when we return? Abdu responded that we must stop being ashamed of our city. He encouraged travel but he also said, “don’t forget to bring what you learn back home”. In general it was a really interesting lecture, one that empowered me to continue to express myself and seek to be visible.

Lastly, Abdu had this to say in regards to people who maybe too timid to implement these changes,

“gotta take shit seriously or else everything is gonna be akiki 4 evah.”

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Festival Latinidades Recap Day 3

all pictures in the post were taken by Latinidades staff.

Today was full of awesome panels and awesome shorts.

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“As Minas do Rap” directed by Juliana Vicente (the founder of Preta Porte Filmes, who was featured yesterday) spoke about the history and experience of female rappers in Brasil. Given that rap is still pretty young in Brasil, about 30 years, the film was able to got preety deep in a short time. Karol Conka, Tassia Reis and Negra Li were all featured.

“Cinzas, O Filme” directed by Larissa Fulana de Tal, a Salvador native and friend of mine also screened. It’s about the day in the life of a young black student, Toni. I won’t give it all away, as I plan to write a review of it. But it was a crowd favorite.

“Somos Krudas” directed by Mario Troncoso was a surprise favorite of mine. Perhaps it was the English subtitles, or maybe because it was about a queer music making couple from Cuba, but this timely short about the revolution within the revolution within the revolution bought tears to my eyes.

10432120_768191979956801_680096297349160789_n        At the panel discussion, “Aesthetic of the Periphery” I realized that the person with the luscious hair was in fact Rico Dalasam an up and coming queer rapper. He talked about his relationship with the “Periphery” (the favela, the hood, the ghetto, etc) and how it influences who he is. This panel was about the ways alternative images can help show the “Periphery” as more than just a space full of despair and horror.

The film “I love Kuduro” was an illuminating documentary about the Angolian music craze that’s sweeping the world. In this stylish and beautifully composited film we learn the history of Kuduro and how it’s bought a country out of war and into the future.

11224060_768262209949778_527334986708184189_n“Slam Das Pretas” a slam poetry event featuring Afro Latina lesbians from all over Brazil was definitely a crowd pleaser. I could hear the audiences reactions from inside the movie theater.

The night ended with a performance from Tassia Reis. I was introduced to her music in the film “Minas do Rap” that was shown earlier in the day, and was intrigued. She even gave me a hug when I was filming DJ Tamy. Imagine my surprise when I realized that the show that I was to tired to attend, was her show. BLOWN.

In short, yesterday was another great day at Festival Latinidades10410451_768282723281060_278853915898888240_n

“My Name is Now” avaliação filme


traduzido por Davi Nunes

O Filme “Meu nome é agora”, é um documentário dirigido por Elizabete Martins Campos sobre a vida de uma das cantoras mais importante e de voz original que a cultura brasileira já produziu, Elza Soares.

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Elza Soares é samba e ela lembra isso ao mundo em seu novo documentário, “Meu nome é agora”. Elza faz jus à reputação de ser inovadora, usando este doc para falar sobre quem ela é no tempo presente: ao contrário de outros documentários sobre “bad girl”, que relata a trajetória do artista durante toda uma vida, o filme não se concentra na temporalidade dos fatos vividos e marcantes da grande cantora, não é uma lição de vida, não é esse o objetivo.

“Meu nome é agora” se apresenta para o público como um poema visual prolongado, em formato de documentário. É interessante assistir o doc como se fôssemos o espelho de Elza. Ela desvenda tudo. Isto parece ser um forte traço de sua personalidade, ou talvez seja, a transposição brilhante de uma negritude poderosa, explicitada em sua música ou de uma rebeldia constituidora de uma vida grande, latente ainda no agora, no tempo presente.

Momentos memoráveis ​​incluem ver os seus 79 anos, transpostos em um ensaio fotográfico sensual que comprova a sua confiança. Outros incluem olhares demasiado curtos dela como uma criança. Este filme é para os verdadeiros fãs de Elza, assim às vezes como estrangeira eu me senti perdida em certas imagens, como exemplo a polêmica história de amor entre ela o jogador de futebol, Garrincha.

Eu gostaria muito que houvesse um enredo linear para seguir, porque Elza é tão abstrata e difícil de se entender, mas vou admitir que estou intrigada. E a partir de agora vou pesquisar mais sobre ela. De certa forma a história de Elza Soares me fez lembrar, como Norte Americana, (com todas as ressalvas e semelhanças), de Nina Simone. Ambas são mulheres negras geniais, vivendo numa conjuntura social e racial assustadoras

Em conclusão, este filme é uma ótima introdução para a mente mística e filosófica da Deusa, Elza Soares.

“My Name is Now”

directed by Elizabete Martins Campos
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Elza Soares is samba and she reminds the world in her new documentary, “My Name is Now”.
Elza lives up to her reputation of being groundbreaking by using this doc to talk about who she is now as opposed to she was she was. Unlike other documentaries on bad girl singers whose time has passed, we don’t focus on the life she’s lived, nor is this a history lesson in what she’s done. Our role as the audience in this extended visual poem of a documentary  is interesting, we get to be Elza’s mirror. She bares all, something it seems she’s always done but it’s not for the sake of exhibition-this is more like thug motivation.
Memorable moments include seeing the 79 year old in a lusty photo shoot that proves confidence will always be the singular component of sex appeal. Others include too short glances of her as a child. This film is for true fans of Elza so at times as a gringa I was lost on certain images, like an old newspaper clip stating that Elza and her pro footballer ex husband were actually never separated confused me. I very much wished there was more of a linear storyline to follow because Elza is already so abstract and hard to grasp, but I will admit I am intrigued now and will more than likely go about researching her myself. In conclusion this film is a great introduction into the philosophical and mystical mind of the Goddess Elza Soares.