113 MUST SEE HORROR FILMS (1960-2020)

This post is an update from my original 50 must see horror film list (2013).

In our house, we watch an intense thriller or horror film about once a month. We ramp it up every October to around 8-10 horror films to celebrate Hallowe’en. I admit there were a couple films on this list my wife couldn’t finish and I don’t blame her … although she did make it to the end of Martyrs, so who knows what qualifies as too much? And why do we enjoy scary films, anyway? Probably, on some primal level, they are purgative and cathartic to watch. Catharsis is employed by Aristotle in the sixth chapter of his Tragedy as a defense of literature for its ability to release ourselves from the reception of our experience of shock and horror.

I’ve also included atypical horror films: the Pasolini film, Salo: 120 days of Sodom, which is not a horror proper but is still included on this list, is a visual representation of the Sade novel; the film is full of abject horror, grotesque materiality and torture, and yet the violence in that film is infused with representation— symbolizing fascism, corruption, and power. Horror films provide both abject representation and escape, and some—perhaps the Saw and Human Centipede franchises—might be simply what is often referred to as “torture porn.” Brazilian theatre director and pedagogue Augusto Boal argues against theatre as an Aristotelian construct because he saw it in this form as coercion to support the dominant ideology. And while Boal’s Theater of the Oppressed, which clearly states that the only liberating theatre is the kind that directly engages the spectator in action, hence allowing the people (spectators) the means to production in order to rehearse and potentially engage in revolution, I wonder if Boal somewhat misjudges the power of the directly uninvolved spectator, or at least his reading of spectators who, while they might not be able to control the production of a fixed text, they do, in fact, control its interpretation. And while theatre and film serve different yet similar purposes, I think it’s important to remember that horror and tragedy and its representation have a history that extends to the earliest of artistic practices.

All humans experience fear and nightmare. The horror genre was born out of a cultural need to confront and vicariously conquer something frightening that we do not fully comprehend. We will continue to find ways to represent those experiences. Here’s a list of some of my favourite horror films—although the list is hardly exhaustive and it is always evolving—in time for All Hallows’ Eve. I use Psycho as a turning point for modern horror as it set a new level (especially in American cinema) for the acceptability of violence, sex, and deviance. 60 years later and we’ve nearly seen it all. A pre-1960s horror list is a task for another day. And, of course, this list is just my opinion; ultimately, I focus on the horror films that have stayed with me the most. Enjoy these cinematic nightmares! 

Any suggestions for other films I should watch that are deserving to be on the list? 

113 MUST SEE HORROR FILMS (1960-2020)

113. Dr. Sleep (2019): I was surprised by how good this film was. Sure, it has its flaws, but it is a near impossible task to follow The Shining. 

Film Review - Doctor Sleep

112. Mandy (2018): Gonzo and blood-soaked madness featuring an inspired performance from the one and only, Nic Cage. 


111. We Are Still Here (2015): A smart and fun twist on familiar territory.


110. Honeymoon (2014): Leigh Janiak was badass in Game of Thrones and she’s just as badass in this slow building thriller.


109. Army of Darkness (1993): A well mixed horror brew of action, gore, and comedy.


108. The Dead Zone (1983): A strong Stephen King adaptation from Canadian director David Cronenberg. Both Cronenberg and King (unsurprisingly) appear on this list multiple times.


107. Evil Dead 2: Dead by Dawn (1987): Not quite as good, but certainly as much fun, as the first installation!


106. Fright Night (1985): Lots of thrills and humour in the original Fright Night.


105. Session 9 (2001): While the ending feels a little abrupt, this film is a masterclass in creating atmosphere.


104. Frozen (2010): Not to be confused with the Disney musical, Frozen is a tense film about three snowboarders who must fight for their lives in the freezing cold after getting stranded on a ski lift.


103. Scanners (1981): An older sci-fi horror classic from David Cronenberg with mind-blowing visuals


102.10 Cloverfield Lane (2016):Of the Cloverfield franchise films, this is the one I enjoyed the most. It utilizes its confined setting to great effect and the acting is quite outstanding.


101. In Fear (2014): A high tension and immersive experience where most of the fear and violence takes place in your head.


100. Creep (2015): Black humour at its finest; Creep offers an idiosyncretic and fresh interpretation on found-footage horror films.


99. The Devil’s Backbone (2001): A great film from Guillermo del Toro with equal parts ghost story and political allegory.


98. High Tension/ Haute tension (Switchblade Romance) (2005): One of the crazy bloodbath French slashers you need to see to believe. The ending could be a little stronger.


97. Host (2020): The first quarantine horror film that takes place entirely over Zoom, Host is scarier than you’d think. Given I teach on Zoom these days, this film gave me real anxiety.


96. A Quiet Place (2018): If you would have told me back in 2013 when I first started this list that I would include a post-apocalyptic science fiction horror film directed and starting John Krasinski I would have laughed at you, but here we are. 


95. We Are What We Are (2013): I guess there is such a thing as a smart cannibal film. Honourable mentions for Cannibal the Musical and Ravenous.


94. Don’t Breathe (2016): This intense film from Fede Álvarez is well written, acted, and it maintains its tense atmosphere throughout. 


93. Pontypool (2009): A fantastic Canadian psychological thriller in which a deadly virus infects a small Ontario town. Pontypool is a tense, abstract, and unique contribution to the zombie canon.


92. Shaun of the Dead (2004):Who says the zombie apocalypse can’t be funny? Shaun of the Dead has earned its status as a bonafide cult classic. 


91. Candyman (1992): I love the score from Philip Glass, which fits well with the nuanced and chilling premise of Candyman.


90. The Invitation (2015): This tension-rich and slow-building thriller from Karyn Kusama is confident and adds something new to the “dinner party from hell” subgenre. 


89. Requiem for a Dream (2000): If one of the main components of the horror genre is to elicit fear in the audience, then Requiem for a Dream is truly a horror film. Rather than talking to my kids about drug addiction when they’re teenagers, I plan to have them watch this. And then we can have the talk … about how crazy this film is.


88. The Lighthouse (2019): Between this and The VVitch, Robert Eggers is on a role. This visually stunning black-and-white film takes place in a lighthouse (filmed in Nova Scotia) and loosely adapts a Poe story to great effect. The performances from the leads as lighthouse keepers—Willem Dafoe and Robert Pattinson-—is also a masterclass in acting. 


87. The Conjuring (2013): Well-crafted horror film that reminded me of classics like The Exorcist and The Amityville Horror


86. Hush (2016): Michael Flanagan proved he is a formidable talent in the horror genre with his followup to Oculus. Hush provides an original take on the slasher and home invasion thriller. 


85. Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer (1986): A chilling and disturbing portrait of a psycho killer.


84. The Little Girl Who Lives Down the Lane (1976): A young Jodie Foster plays the title role in this taut Canadian thriller.

The Little Girl that Lives Down the Lane 1

83. Calibre (2018): A twisted film that takes an unexpected turn. I caught this one on Netflix and was surprised by how good it was. 


82. The Host (2006): This excellent monster feature from Bong Joon-ho (Okja and Parasite) is full of scares, humour, and astute political commentary.  


81. Misery (1990): James Caan and Kathy Bates are both fantastic in what is certainly one of the better adaptations of Stephen King’s work.


80. Funny Games (2007): Michael Haneke remakes his own film (1997) with a strong performance from Naomi Watts. Easier to watch than the crime drama Irreversible, but that isn’t saying much. Is this voyeuristic sadism? Is Haneke successful in turning the camera back at us? You decide. 


79. Red White & Blue (2010): Well-acted and taut thriller that is also a severely distressing revenge film with a surfeit of torture. Need I say more?


78. Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978): A powerful remake that expands on the themes of the original.


77. The Descent (2005): Great performances from an all-female cast in this creepy and claustrophobic decent into nightmare.


76. Inside/ À l’Intérieur (2007): I think the French make the most messed up horror films, and this film, which is part of the New French Extremity, is about as bloody, visceral, disturbing, and engrossing as they come. As Rob Gonsalves of eFilmCritic put it, “Leave it to the French to make Suspiria look like a ’30s drawing-room comedy.” I can’t actually recommend this one, and kind of wish I could un-see it.


75. Salo: 120 days of Sodom (1975): The film updates Marquis de Sade’s most extreme novel to fascist Italy in the final days of WWII. You probably won’t enjoy watching it, but it does a great job in showing how we are often complicit voyeurs of the world’s most disturbing and real horrors.


74. Suspiria (2018): While Luca Guadagnino’s reimagining of Suspiria was certainly polarizing, I appreciated how daring and original it felt. The soundtrack from Thom Yorke is also excellent.


73. Scream (1996): Nice homage to early slasher flicks—many of which were Craven’s own—and revival of the genre.


72. Don’t Look Now (1973): With haunting imagery and and a bone chilling score, Don’t Look Now is a must see for fans of the horror genre. It seems that Donald Sutherland was in a lot of these kinds of films in the ’70s.


71. A Field in England (2013): Ben Wheatley’s A Field in England is a British historical (although revisionist) thriller/horror shot entirely in black-and-white and set during the mid-17th century English Civil War. The film is a gumbo concoction odyssey that breaks free of the historical thriller genre through the use of experimental film techniques: mixing humour, horror and hallucination, with a dissonant kaleidoscopic audio score—an homage to 60s psychedelia. See my full review, here. Also, for another unconventional “horror” film from Wheatley, see Sightseers.


70. Black Christmas [also released as Silent Night, Evil Night(1975): One of the first slasher pics ever made, and it’s Canadian! Interestingly, it is one of Steve Martin’s favourite films.


69. Under the Skin (2013): With feet firmly in both the sci-fi and horror genre, Under the Skin offers a fresh take on both genres while taking the audience to strange new places. Also recommended in a similar vein: Annihilation (2018). 


68. Carnival of Souls (1962): The surreal and dreamlike imagery in this film was a major influence on David Lynch and it is easy to see why. An example of effective storytelling that proves once again that less can often be more.  


67. Jaws (1975): Spielberg’s Jaws remains a benchmark in blockbuster thrills, and has given sharks a bad name to this day. Da-Dum:It’s incredible that two simple notes can inspire so much terror. Check out the impressive new 4K restoration of the film. 


66. 28 Days Later (2002): One of the best zombie movies out there; in addition, it has a fatal political bend to it.


65. [Park Chan-Wook’s Revenge Trilogy] Sympathy of Mr. Vengeance (2002); Oldboy (2003); Sympathy for Lady Vengeance (2005): While these films fall more into the mystery/thriller category, their grimy violence and high style allow them to verge into the horror genre (certainly in gore and subject matter) and presents the viewer with both shock and thought.


64. Los ojos de Julia/ Julia’s Eyes (2010): Full of Hitchcockian suspense. Your eyes will be glued to the screen.


63. Carrie (1976): Teen angst horror-prom blood fest at its best.

Rewatching Carrie a little while ago I noticed that Buck 65 samples the theme in his song, “The Centaur.


62. Night of the Living Dead (1968): George A. Romero’s debut is a seminal horror classic and it almost single-handedly created the template for the zombie film.


61. An American Werewolf in London (1981): Pitch perfect genre-crossing horror-comedy.


60. Nightmare on Elm Street (1984): Featuring Johnny Depp in his screen debut, Nightmare on Elm Street showcases Wes Craven at his finest. Freddy Krueger remains as frightening as ever.


59. The Fly (1986): Wow, horror films before all the special effects crap were so inventive. The Fly is a macabre romance with all the early fleshy Cronenberg trademarks. Oh, and Goldblum.


58. Eden Lake (2008): This British horror film is brutal, but features incredible performances from both Kelly Reilly and Michael Fassbender.


57. Goodnight Mommy (2015): There’s been some fantastic horror films in the last five years, and this one by duo Veronika Franz and Severin Fiala is one of them. This unsettling identical-twin psycho-thriller is a riveting nightmare.


56. The Wicker Man (1973): While the Cage remake would likely end up on a slew of worst lists, the original is a classic with a truly unforgettable ending.


55. Videodrome (1983): Videodrome is a disorienting, wholly strange experience about technology and cybernetic flesh and lust that still resonates today.


54. Ringu (1998): I have to go with the Japanese original. Elemental nightmares with a dose of technological anxiety create an unnerving mix.


53. The Cabin in the Woods (2012): Meta-horror flick that is funny, scary, weird and wonderful, often within the same scene.


52. Re-Animator (1985): Stuart Gordon’s take on a H.P Lovecraft story is full of blood and gore and is a perfect mix of humour and horror.


51. Pulse (2001): Fantastic Japanese horror flick that uses the power of suggestion to provide real scares.


50. The Innocents (1961): Atmospheric British classic based on Henry James’s The Turn of the Screw.


49. It Follows (2015): While it falters at times, It Follows is a smart and terrifying offering that reminds us that modern horror has plenty to offer.


48. Drag Me to Hell (2009): Horror veteran Sam Raimi delivers a modern campy thrill ride.


47. The Babadook (2014): Jennifer Kent’s film relies on genuine scares rather than gore. A modern classic in my opinion. Her latest film, The Nightingale is brutal and shows the full force of settler and patriarchal colonialism and its machinations of violence on women and Indigenous people.


46. The Brood (1979): The perfect example of David Cronenberg’s body horror cinema, offering a take on how repressed demons of the psyche worm their way to the surface. The Criterion print of this film is a work of art.


45. Revenge (2017): With a feminist edge, Coralie Fargeat infuses new life into the exploitation revenge flick.


44. What We Do in the Shadows (2015): One of the funniest horror-comedy films I’ve ever seen, and a great update on the modern vampire flick.


43. Train to Busan (2016): Entertaining South Korean Zombie apocalypse film that takes place mostly on a train. This one is lots of fun!


42. Halloween (1978): A Hallowe’en horror film list would feel inadequate without this film that set the bar for modern slasher films like Scream.


41. You’re Next (2013): This film has it all: energy, brutal gore, a strong female lead, and pitch black humour.


40. Spoorloos/ The Vanishing (1988): The original, of course. I mean how many great foreign horror films has Hollywood unnecessarily remade? This film slowly unravels until we are presented with one of the most shocking endings in any film.


39. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974): While host to a surfeit of bad remakes, the original is low-budget exploitation gore at its optimum. Is this where chainsaw nightmare are made?


38. Rosemary’s Baby (1968): Polanski’s iconic thriller is a spellbinding film that will turn expectant mothers to prayer for safe passage.


37. A Tale of Two Sisters (2003): This South Korean psychological horror drama film written and directed by Kim Jee-woo is intricately structured and full of enough twists to reward multiple viewings. 


36. Let the Right One In (2008): This film reenergizes the vampire genre. See Twilight if you want bad horror romance (I assume, as I haven’t actually seen it), but watch Let the Right One In if you want an intelligent film with affecting storytelling.


35. Eyes Without a Face (1960): This 1960 French film is both beautifully poetic and deeply disturbing, often within the same frame. While there’s not much in terms of character development, this film provides an interesting take on the mad-doctor saga and the heterografting scene still disturbs. 


34. Us (2019): Jordan Peele has opened up the horror genre to show how America’s racism continues to haunt the present. Us expands on some of the themes in Peele’s debut film, Get Out, and critiques the interconnected territories of race and class. Moreover, Lupita Nyong’o’s performance is a thing of wonder. It’s also a genuinely creepy film and while some critics had a hard time classifying Get Out, this is a full-on horror film.


33. Mulholland Drive (2001): “Silencio.” In many ways this film parallels Lynch’s Blue Velvet as we gradually awaken into a living nightmare. Once Pandora’s box is opened the film enters into a mysterious realm that few, if any, films can travel, traverse, and transcend as beautifully and as well as this film does.


32. Antichrist (2009): Shocking and controversial art house horror. Another film on this list that is not for the squeamish.


31. Repulsion (1965): Schizophrenic decent into psychosis. One of Polanski’s best.


30. American Psycho (2000): This violent and sharp satire from co-writer and director Mary Harron exposes the shallow nature of American culture. It is also nearly impossible to imagine any actor playing Patrick Bateman other than Christian Bale. 


29Martyrs (2008): If you want to watch something utterly horrifying and violent (it is part of the French extremity movement), but also smart and daring, Martyrs might be the film for you. Even though I’ve only seen this film once close to when it was released, many of the images continue to haunt me.


28. [REC] (2007): One of my favourite zombie films and perhaps the best uses of POV found footage.


27. Kill List (2011): Slow burn crime-thriller that gradually becomes a corporal horror.


26. Raw (2016): Another crazy French horror film (big surprise!). This one, directed and written by Julia Ducournau, provides something new to the cannibal horror genre, and it is very atmospheric and full of symbols that stay with you.  


25. Blood Quantum (2019): An Indigenous zombie film from writer and director Jeff Barnaby. Barnaby’s “bare knuckle” approach to cinema is an important cinematic intervention (see his excellent Rhymes for Young Ghouls), and this zombie horror film feels all the more pertinent during COVID-19. 


24. The VVitch (2015): This directorial debut from Robert Eggers is visually compelling and unsettling as it shows that so much of the horror genre is about atmosphere.  


23. Hausu (1977): This surreal Japanese horror flick is the stuff of legend. The script was influenced by the ideas of director Nobuhiko Obayashi’s pre-teen daughter. He asked her what she found to be truly scary, which is why it is likely the only film where a piano eats someone!


22. Come and See (1985): With a title that references the Book of Revelations, Elem Klimov’s Come and See is a harrowing and graphic anti-war film (about the horrors of the fascist genocide in Belorussia). It is also surreal and poetic. I realize choosing an anti-war film opens up the discussion of horror, but the last 45 minutes of this film really do feel like you’ve descended into Hell.


21. Alien (1979): A poetic sci-fi horror tour de force. I watch this film every few years and it never gets old.


20. I Saw the Devil (2010): You’ve likely noticed that I am a big fan of South Korean cinema and horror. If you are looking for something intense and full of action, I highly recommend this Korean film. The chilling performance from Choi Min-sik as a psychopathic serial killer is a sight to behold. 


19. Hereditary (2018): Speaking of great performances, it is a blunder than Toni Collette was not nominated for an Oscar for her role in Hereditary. Most people reading through a horror list have likely seen Ari Aster’s debut film at this point, but if you haven’t you should get on that. Aside from Collette’s great performance, it is full of shocking twists and scares. 


18. Audition (1999): kiri, kiri. This Japanese psychological drama will stay with you, and nothing can prepare you for the shocking ending.  


17. Blue Velvet (1986): A surreal blend of psychological horror with film noir, David Lynch’s Blue Velvet still disturbs and perhaps tells us even more today about the horrors of small-town American life. 


16. The Evil Dead (1981): Its careful mix of black comedy with supernatural horror made The Evil Dead an instant milestone in graphic horror.  


15. The Loved Ones (2009): This Australian film mixes horror and teen drama well and the ending is one of the best of any horror film. It gives new meaning to the challenges of going to prom. 


14. Eraserhead (1977): Shockingly, or not, David Lynch calls Eraserhead his most spiritual film. A surreal and experimental body horror about a man’s fear of being a father, the film is engrossing and disturbing. The creepy sound design for the film is also really incredible. 


13. The Exorcist (1973): Considered by many to be the scariest film of all time, Friedkin’s The Exorcist is a horror classic with some of the most blood-curdling scenes (the spider walk scene!) on celluloid.


12. The Wailing (2016): This lengthy South Korean horror gem has it all: Asian mythology, exorcisms, shamans, zombies, and the devil. It starts off as a comedy, but quickly turns quite dark.  


11. Midsommar (2019): While it is only his second film (after Hereditary), Ari Aster proved he is a true horror auteur with this one. I enjoyed this even more than Hereditary and although it is more unsettling than it is scary, the images are disturbing and the hallucinatory tone of the film lingers long after it’s over. 


10. Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me (1992): Some might disagree with having this rank so high, but I think it is David Lynch’s most pure horror film. It is also his most misunderstood and denigrated work. The film’s subject matter is not only difficult, but its narrative complexity can feel impenetrable at times. According to David Foster Wallace: “[Fire Walk with Me] sought to transform Laura Palmer from dramatic object to dramatic subject … Laura was no longer ‘an enigma’ or ‘the password to an inner sanctum of horror.’ She embodied, in full view, all the Dark Secrets that on the series had been the stuff of significant glances and delicious whispers.”


9. A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night (2014): Such an amazing debut from Ana Lily Amirpour. It’s not often you’ll come across an Iranian Vampire Spaghetti Western let alone one with a lonely chador-wearing feminist-vampire-vigilante on a skateboard who fights against the oppression of women. It’s also beautifully filmed and scored. 


8. Silence of the Lambs (1991): Both Anthony Hopkins and Jodie Foster give incredible performances (in which they both won Oscars) in a film that legitimized horror in the eyes of the general public. As a psychological study and horror film, it has it all. However, I tend to agree with some of the criticisms of the film by the LGBTQ+ community around the portrayal of Buffalo Bill. 


7. The Thing (1982): John Carpenter’s remake is such a fantastic and engrossing film. The fear and paranoia of a mutant disease spreading while in isolation takes on new meaning in 2020. After seeing this, watch the episode called “Ice” from the first season of The X-Files for some close parallels.


6. Deep Red/ Italian: Profondo Rosso (1975): Of all the Argento and giallo films I’ve seen, this one is the best. Even though I enjoy Suspiria slightly more for its abstraction and incredible cinematography, Deep Red is more compelling and complex and you can see its influence on later horror films and murder mysteries. The soundtrack by Goblin is also great. 


5. Get Out (2017): Rarely does a film come out that changes the landscape of the conversation happening within a given genre, but Get Out manages to do that and more. American comedian and writer Jordan Peele recognized lacunas in the genre and crafted a film that uses the metaphor of the sunken place to address the pain of commodified black bodies in cinema/horror. It’s also a lot of fun to catch all the references to The Shining in the film. 


4. Dead Ringers (1988): A progenitor of a genre typically referred to as body horror, Toronto-born and world-renowned auteur David Cronenberg remains one of the most audacious narrative directors working in cinema. One of Cronenberg’s most controlled and creepy films, Dead Ringers centres on twin-brother gynaecologists who share everything, including a patient, and despite their best efforts, cannot be severed from one another. The “Instruments for Operating on Mutant Women” are a haunting metaphor for male desire to control reproduction. I had a chance to see this at TIFF as part of David Cronenberg: Evolution, and before the screening Cronenberg discussed how Dead Ringers was a critical turning point in his career; after the screening, the first words Jeremy Irons spoke were, “That’s a pretty strange film.” Indeed. 


3. Suspiria (1977): This abstract, glossy, and gory horror is full of phantasmagoric style.  The soundtrack is incredible. While most horror stories take place in settings with isolated victims, Argento takes things one step further by placing his young protagonist, Suzy (Jessica Harper), in a particularly creepy ballet academy located in rural Italy. The movie is violent, jarring, and also full of breathtakingly beautiful cinematography and vibrant colours. Goblin’s score is one of the best in all of horror. Check out the original theme, and then listen to hip-hop producer RJD2’s use of the sample in his track “Weatherpeople.”


2. Psycho (1960)There’s before Psycho and after Psycho. While it seems hard to believe, Psycho was the first film to show someone flushing a toilet. With that said, we can see why the famous shower sequence (consisting of 78 set ups and 52 cuts in 45 seconds) sent some people running out of the theatre. No longer were our private domestic spaces safe. Hitchcock imagined the shower scene without sound, but fortunately Bernard Herrmann convinced him otherwise as it is one of the most recognizable sonic moments in all of cinema.


1. The Shining (1980): 

blood: redrum, RƎⱭЯUM
what’s in room two-three-seven?
surprise: here’s Johnny!

There was a time when Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining was not considered to be the great horror film many people and critics see it as today. The film opened to derisive laughter. As Pauline Kael wrote, “Who wants to see evil in daylight, through a wide-angle lens?” Over time The Shining’s stature as a classic has grown and it introduced nearly all the elements that are part of horror’s popular lexicon: jump-cuts, modernist music ( Kubrick uses six pieces from Polish composer, Krzystof Penderecki), subliminal inserts (Danny’s visions), and all kinds of visual metaphors. The film itself is structured like a piece of music with various movements and recurring rhythms. It is a film you can get lost in and think through every time you watch it. It was innovative, especially in its use of Steadicam (see Danny’s pedal car). 

The most arresting element about Kubrick’s adaptation of Stephen King’s book is the engrossing labyrinthine structure of the film, which adds a dizzying effect as we get lost deeper and deeper in the film’s maze. Replacing King’s topiary (hedges that come alive) with a maze adds plenty of cinematic verve to the adaptation. Topiary just isn’t scary; on the other hand, a demented Minotaur of a man running through a maze to kill his kid in the dead cold of winter is bone chilling. For me, Kubrick’s version was much more terrifying because instead of ghosts—although mysterious elements are present—we are shown a more mythic and immediate evil. Evil exists in the world of the living and it is our responsibility to contest it. Kubrick’s finale is ice cold: the world freezes over and evil still waits in the halls of the Overlook Hotel.


Need a reprieve from all the scary carnage? Here’s The Shining à la Seinfeld with a laugh track.


A Multi-Generational Mixtape: A Review of Ian Williams’s Reproduction

Reproduction—the debut novel from Ian Williams—is an inventive multi-generational saga that pushes the limits of narrative and language. The novel explores the ways families are bonded, whether by blood, story, or choice. Its size, encyclopedic knowledge, Biblical intertextuality, and peregrination through the complicated genealogy of family (from the cycle of birth, life, and death) recall Steinbeck’s East of Eden, but in language and style it is closer to the work of Zadie Smith and the late David Foster Wallace. Fitting the cyclical nature of life and the seasons, the novel is told in four sections (with an interlude between them titled “The Sex Talk”), moving from Toronto in the late seventies to the mid-nineties, and finally to the present. Before the narrative proper, we encounter an upwards-moving genealogy that begins with “before” and then seven epigraphs. The genealogy—devoid of names, with representative sex chromosomes in their place—and the epigraphs, ranging from Margaret Atwood to Genesis, speak to Williams’ awareness that both he, as author, and his characters are part of an inherited chain of stories.

Click here to read my full review at Canadian Literature.

ENLG 125 Playlist: Music and Literature

Ornette Coleman once said that “Sound is to people what the sun is to light.” Sound is foundational to the human and it enhances our other senses. Like my previous Black Lives Matter playlist, I offer this playlist in relation to my ENGL 125 course focused on music, literature, and popular culture. Music is a through line of the two primary texts—Esi Edugyan’s Half-Blood Blues and Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons’s Watchmen—and the anthemic refrain of Public Enemy’s “Fight the Power” punctuates the final work studied in this course: Spike Lee’s Do the Right Thing. Music unifies and celebrates, but it can also resist and serve as protest. From Billie Holiday’s “Strange Fruit” (write-up on my #BLM playlist) to Rage Against the Machine’s “Killing in the Name,” music has played an integral role in the pursuit of social justice. That all said, get comfortable. Grab a cup of tea, coffee, or your beverage of choice, and sit back and listen. 


Week One: Talking Heads, “Once in a Lifetime” and DJ Techné, “Another World”
Week Two: Feelin’ Blue: Johnson, Parker, Bessie, Billie, and Armstrong
Week Three (Half-Blood Blues): King Oliver, Bessie Smith, Jelly Roll Morton, Oscar Peterson, and Armstrong
Week Four (Half-Blood Blues): Louis Armstrong, “West End Blues” (1928) and Ella Fitzgerald, Ella in Berlin (1960)
Week 6 (Watchmen): Bob Dylan, “Desolation Row” (1965)
Week 7 (Watchmen): Nina Simone, “Pirate Jenny” and Billie Holiday, “You’re My Thrill”
Week 8 (Watchmen): Bob Dylan and Jimi Hendrix, “All Along the Watchtower” (1968) and John Cale, “Sanities” (1982)

Week One: Talking Heads, “Once in a Lifetime” and DJ Techné, “Portals”

Given that one of the short readings for this week was David Byrne speaking about the coronavirus as offering an opportunity for change, I thought it appropriate to include a song from the rock/new wave band he led for nearly 30 years: Talking Heads. Talking Heads have a number of albums that appear on Rolling Stone’s list of the 500 Greatest Albums of All Time, and they are probably most known for their song, “Psycho Killer.” Another one of their well-known songs, and the focus of this week’s listening is the obfuscate, “Once in a Lifetime” (produced by Brian Eno from Remain in Light). Sonically, the song is inspired by the Afrobeat sound of Fela Kuti, and lyrically Byrne borrows from the cadences and antiphony of sermonizing preachers (see the lyrics). In part, the song deals with the pointlessness of not being content with what you have. It is impossible to remove the water at the bottom of the ocean and there is no way to stop the flow of life. There is certainly a lesson here, especially in terms of how we adapt and try to remain content during the challenges presented by COVID-19. In an interview with Time Out, Byrne describes how the song came from “evangelists I recorded off the radio while taking notes and picking up phrases I thought were interesting directions. Maybe I’m fascinated with the middle class because it seems so different from my life, so distant from what I do. I can’t imagine living like that.” The song has also been analyzed as an invective against consumerism, but the central question the song asks is “How did I get here?” A question, we can ask ourselves as individuals and as a species. On NPR, musician Travis Morrison praised the lyrics saying it is the perfect song: “The lyrics are astounding  they are meaningless and totally meaningful at the same time. That’s as good as rock lyrics get.” What do you hear in them, and does the technologically outdated, but certainly interesting, music video for the song clarify its meaning? Probably not, but check it out. 

Another song worth mentioning is Byrne’s Broadway cover of Janelle Monae’s anthemic “Hell You Talmbout,” which functions as a protest and uses call-and-response as the names of victims of police violence are shouted out. I am sharing the original Monae version, which feels as timely as ever, as it is not available on Spotify (but you can check out Byrne’s version there).

Lastly, I want to share my live track, “Portals.” The track opens with a sample from the Man Booker Prize-winning Indian novelist Arundhati Roy speaking about the coronavirus pandemic as a portal: “It is a portal, a gateway between one world and the next.” With systemic injustices more visible than ever, she asks us to use this opportunity to imagine another world, which is echoed in the second part of the performance as Sun Ra envisions music as another language. There is freedom in sound (especially when it is open to different styles) to dream and shape the future, which fits with Sun Ra’s vision of music as a gateway to a better world. If you listen closely, you will also hear vocal samples from Billie Holiday, Miles Davis, Jean-Michel Basquiat, and Charles Mingus. Will we ignore the rupture the pandemic created and return to “normal,” or will we improvise and step through the portal into another world?

A slightly different version of song can be heard on my album, Portals

Week Two: Feelin’ Blue: Johnson, Parker, Bessie, Billie, AND Armstrong

“I contend that the Negro is the creative voice of America, is creative America, and it was a happy day in America when the first unhappy slave was landed on its shores.” —Duke Ellington, The Duke Ellington Reader, 147

“There is no true American music but the wild sweet melodies of the Negro slave.” —W.E.B. Du Bois, The Souls of Black Folk 7

I realize there is a lot of music for this week. Too much to fully grasp the meaning of all of the songs, but hopefully even reading through these short write-ups and having the playlist playing while you read the material, or think through it, will prove helpful and insightful. Esi Edugyan also made a written playlist to accompany her text, which you can find on VIULearn in the folder for this week’s class. This week is all about the blues and jazz. 

The form of the blues comprises work songs, spirituals, field hollers, shouts, chants, and ballads, among other styles. However, it took some time before the blues were as classically ubiquitous and cross-cultural as they are today. As the Du Bois epigraph elucidates, and as James Weldon Johnson accurately predicted, “The day will come when this slave music will be the most treasured heritage of the American Negro” (Autobiography 1197). The blues plants the roots of much music: it is pervasive in jazz, provides the foundation of rhythm and blues, and the twelve-bar blues progression can even be heard throughout rock and roll. One particularly common feature of blues music is the blue note, which for expressive function is sung or played flattened or bent (from the minor 3rd to the major 3rd) relative to the pitch of the major scale. The idiom itself, “the blues,” refers to the “blue devils,” implicating melancholy and sadness with an early use of the term appearing in George Colman’s one-act farce Blue Devils. Some early innovators of the blues are W.C. Handy (known as the Father of Blues), Bessie Smith, Gertrude “Ma” Rainey, Mamie Smith, Lead Belly, Robert Johnson, and too many others to list here. What is interesting to notice about this tentative list is how prominent women blues figures were in the creation, innovation, and dissemination of the blues, as female vaudeville blues singers were eminently popular in the 1920s.The blues genre—and the spirituals preceding it—helped materialize a classical African American canon of music (a formal counter canon to the European classical tradition), which provided potent standards off of which other artists could riff, beginning with the early spirituals. Case in point: the Negro Spirituals “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” and “Go Down Moses” have been covered and recorded on thousands of records, becoming standards, with everyone from Louis Armstrong, Etta James, Duke Ellington, Johnny Cash, Parliament, The Grateful Dead, and hip-hop group Bone Thugs and Harmony covering the former, to everyone from Grant Green, Fats Waller, Archie Shepp, and Will Smith on the sitcom The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air covering the latter. The blues have the power to connect people across diverse backgrounds and time periods, and represents, as Black liberation theologian James H. Cone argues in The Spirituals and the Blues, “The power of the song in the struggle for black survival—that is what the spirituals and blues are about” (1).

Jazz, similar to the blues, is a distinct musical form, prominently of African American origin, which emerged in the United States in the early decades of the twentieth century, although ragtime from the 1890s is also a type of jazz. Similar to the blues, jazz incorporates, adapts, and subverts other musical elements, with early influences including “African and European music, American folk music, marching band music, plantation songs, spirituals and gospel music, minstrelsy, ragtime and the blues” (Stanbridge 286). Jazz is largely defined by its ability to amalgamate other forms, along with the music’s broader techniques, which include various rhythmic properties, from swing and syncopation to complex harmonic languages, as well as an overarching focus on improvisation. 

The first song I want to draw your attention to is Robert Johnson’s “Cross Road Blues” (also known as “Crossroads”). Recorded back in 1936 the song is about the crossroads in Mississippi—“I went to the crossroad, fell down on my knees”—where Johnson supposedly sold his soul to the devil in exchange for his musical talents. The song was popularized by Eric Clapton—who deeply admired Johnson—in the late ‘60s. Another standard and related Johnson track is “Me and the Devil Blues” (1937), which tells the story of the devil knocking on Johnson’s door and telling him that it’s time to go. Notice the call and response technique as various lines are repeated with some spontaneous vocal alteration. This antiphonic form is a big part of the blues and jazz, and it would later be heard in punk and hip-hop music. I remixed Johnson’s track with Bessie Smith’s “Devil’s Gonna Git You,” along with film and art, which you can view, here.  

Hopefully, you had the chance to read James Baldwin’s “Sonny’s Blues,” which introduces us to a few pivotal figures of jazz, namely Louis Armstrong and Charlie Parker. While Armstrong is redeemed in Half-Blood Blues, he is considered “old-time, down home crap” (although check out his “What Did I do to be so Black and Blue” for its persistent themes) by Sonny largely because he wants to play what is new and cutting edge for his time: Bebop music. I’ve written about the power of Bebop music and its relation to hip-hop before, but what is so exciting about Charlie Parker for Sonny is that he took the music somewhere completely new as heard in “Ko Ko” or “Ornithology,” which is a contrafact—that is, a newly created melody written over the chord progressions of another song, in this instance the standard “How High the Moon.” Sonny also covers “Am I Blue” (notably recorded and performed by Billie Holiday) and makes it his own.

Many of these songs would make for excellent choices for your close reading if you decide to go that route. 

Week Three (Half-Blood Blues): King Oliver, Bessie Smith, Jelly Roll Morton, Oscar Peterson, AND ARMSTRONG

I hope you are enjoying Half-Blood Blues. If you were finding the language and style difficult, I also hope that it is getting easier for you as you work through it. There are a number of musical references throughout the novel and this week I want to draw your attention to a few of them. 

“Crowder told Armstrong Hiero reminded him of King Oliver in his prime” (84) … “Have you ever seen King Oliver?” (111)

The novel talks a lot about Louis Armstrong (and later features him as a character) and Armstrong is considered one of the great innovators of jazz, but without King Oliver (1881-1938) we might not get Louis Armstrong. Oliver was both a mentor and teacher of Armstrong. As Armstrong says, in Satchmo: My Life In New Orleans, “if it had not been for Joe Oliver, Jazz would not be what it is today.” I’ve added both “Riverside Blues” and “Speakeasy Blues” to the Spotify playlist. 

“He was playing Empty Bed Blues, but doing it so coy it ain’t sound nothing like itself.” (122)

Bessie Smith was a major figure of the blues (we will watch the film Bessie about her in a few weeks), and she, along with others like Ma Rainey represent, as observed by Angela Davis, a “black working-class social consciousness,” while moreover they “foreshadowed a brand of protest that refused to privilege racism over sexism, or the conventional public realm over the private as the preeminent domain of power” (Blues Legacies 42). And so, (in tandem with its often-bawdy nature), the blues genre was, as Davis concludes, “responsible for the dissemination of attitudes toward male supremacy that had decidedly feminist implications” (55). In a moment that leaves Sid very jealous, Delilah and Hiero perform Bessie Smith’s “Empty Bed Blues” (originally from 1928). You can read the lyrics here and listen to the song below (also on the playlist).

What do you think this song is about? Read the lyrics while listening to the song and then come back here. I’ll wait…

Okay. Did you listen to the song and read the lyrics? It is full on innuendos about sex (“coffee grinder”) and even references performing cunnilingus: her new lover is a “deep sea diver” who can “stay down at the bottom” holding his breath. No wonder Sid is jealous. 

Deeply personal and explicit lyrics have always been part of the blues. At one point in the novel Jelly Roll Morton is mentioned. Born in 1890 Jelly Roll Morton is one of the earliest jazz artists and he even claimed to have invented the music in 1902 (this is disputed). He also played in Vancouver cabarets as early as 1919 and as late as 1921. He played piano, gambled, drank, told bawdy jokes, and sang during his residency at the Patricia in Vancouver. He also wrote some very explicit music, such as “Winin’ Boys Blues” (recorded by Alan Lomax in 1939). 

Warning: the song below is very explicit and you may find it offensive (lyrics, here). There’s a clean version of it on the Spotify playlist, as well as a version by singer Stephanie Niles with the original explicit lyrics. Does our understanding of the song change when a woman sings it?

“I’m from Montreal … Little Burgundy” (108). 

Alright, let’s end with something less dirty. We learn that Delilah is from Little Burgundy in Montreal, which is the home of famous jazz musicians Oliver Jones and Oscar Peterson. You can view a short Wikipedia article that I wrote about a legendary club in Little Burgundy named “Rockhead’s Paradise” if you want to learn a little more about the history. 

While there are number of Canadian jazz songs I could add, I will share one from Oscar Peterson. Drawing on the energy of the black church, and speaking across borders, Black Montreal-based musician Oscar Peterson conceived of “Hymn to Freedom,” which was sung in various places in the States as an anthem to the Civil Rights Movement.

Also, make sure you check out the clips from Jazz (posted to VIULearn) as they provide more detail about the man and legend, Louis Armstrong. In particular, see the short clip on the novelty number called “Heebie Jeebies,” which Armstrong sang with vocal improvisations. Innovation is often a result of chance, and Louis Armstrong’s impromptu scatting in “Heebie Jeebies” (the first scat caught on a recording) was the result of a mistake: as the legend goes, Armstrong’s lyric sheet fell while recording and so he began to scat/improvise.

You can hear the song (and the others) on the Spotify playlist

Week FOUR: Louis Armstrong, “West End Blues” (1928) and Ella Fitzgerald, Ella in Berlin (1960)

Louis Armstrong, “West End Blues”

It is hardly an understatement to say Louis Armstrong helped invent modern time. “West End Blues” is a multi-strain twelve-bar blues composition by Joe “King” Oliver that Armstrong uniquely makes his own. The opening is one of the great cadenzas in modern music and it helped define jazz as a soloist’s art. Make sure you watch the segment on “West End Blues” from Jazz in the lecture on VIULearn. Armstrong continues to inspire musicians, such as DJ Kid Koala, whose “Basin Street Blues” riffs on another Armstrong track. 

Also, worth mentioning is Ella Fitzgerald’s incredible live album, Mack the Knife: Ella in Berlin (1960)In her version of “Mac the Knife,” Ella forgot the lyrics and improvised new ones on the spot showing her incredible skill as a consummate improviser. 

Ella Fitzgerald, “Mack the Knife”

Equally impressive and one of the best scat performances ever recorded is Ella’s version of “How Hight the Moon.” The way Ella uses her voice like a horn, her references to Charlie Parker’s “Ornithology,” and her ability to improvise upon a standard, is absolutely stunning. One must simply hear it to believe it. Enjoy. 

Ella Fitzgerald, “How High the Moon”

Week 6 (Watchmen): Bob Dylan, “Desolation Row” (1965)

At midnight all the agents
And the superhuman crew
Come out and round up everyone
That knows more than they do

-Bob Dylan, “Desolation Row”

As Dave Gibbons—the illustrator behind Watchmen—wrote in his 2013 preface to the book: “It began with Bob Dylan.” This song formed the spark that would one day ignite Watchmen: “These lines must have also lodged in Alan’s consciousness for, nearly twenty years later, Dylan’s words eventually provided the title of the first issue of our comic book series WATCHMEN.” I hardly have the space here to describe a song like “Desolation Row” in detail, but I suggest you listen to the song in its entirety with the lyrics (and detailed notes) open on Genius. The song is an 11-minute epic of entropy (comprised of 10 verses) that features a large cast of iconic characters (historical, biblical, fictional, and literary). The song was the final song on Dylan’s classic, Highway 61 Revisited and the lyrics move between the surreal and the hardships and realities of the Holocaust and post-World War II society. Desolation Row plays on the expression “skid row,” which is used to describe a seedy run-down part of town. Some interpretations have read the song as an allegory for the Holocaust, but part of the power of the song is that it resists simple interpretation, much like the graphic novel we are now reading. The band, My Chemical Romance performed a cover of the song for the 2009 soundtrack of Watchmen, but that film actually opens with another Dylan song.

Even three chapters in, you’ve likely noticed that music runs through the veins of Watchmen as chapters and themes are shaped by individual songs and artists. A song like Dylan’s “Desolation Row,” which moves across time and space from Nero to Einstein, speaks to the possibilities of the graphic novel as an artform informed by music (and other media). The first three chapters also feature Elvis Costello’s “The Comedians,” Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries,” The Police’s “Walking on the Moon,” and references to The Beatles and Elvis (but while you likely know his version of “Hound Dog,” how many know of Big Mama Thornton’s earlier, and frankly, better version). These have all been added to the playlist.   

Also, check out the student playlist comprised of songs from your close readings:

Week 7 (Watchmen): Nina Simone, “Pirate Jenny” and Billie Holiday, “You’re My Thrill”

The majority of the musical references in today’s Watchmen readings are in Chapter 7, but there is also a coded one in Chapter 5. In Chapter 5, The Black Freighter (a reference from “Pirate Jenny”) takes on symbolic meaning in the comic-within-the-comic as a revenge fantasy, but the song is also endued with the spirit of overcoming anti-Black racism. The use of music in Chapter 7 highlights Dan and Laurie’s age gap, their nostalgia for the past, and their unfolding romance.

“Pirate Jenny” is a song from The Threepenny Opera written by Brecht and composer Kurt Weill. In Half-Blood Blues we listened to “Mack the Knife” from that same opera. Nina Simone included the song on her 1964 album, Nina Simone in Concert, which featured other civil right songs such as “Old Jim Crow” and a track we previously listened to, “Mississippi Goddam.” “Pirate Jenny” is a song about a maid who imagines herself getting vengeance for the contempt she endures from the townspeople. She teams up with pirates from the Black Freighter and kills everyone and sails away to sea. Simone adapts the song into an African American context and uses “The Black Freighter” as “metaphor for an African-American force powerful enough to destroy the racism and intolerance of the American South. Simone did not perform the song often, saying that it took so much energy out of her that it took her seven years to recover each time” (Mary Borsellino, Watchmen and Music). It is also worth noting that the song was a major influence on Bob Dylan who would record “Desolation Row” (the genesis of Watchmen) just a few years later. 

Here’s Simone’s 1964 live version, but also check out her live version from 1992 that provides important context

In Chapter 7 we get a number of music references, including Devo, Billie Holiday, and Nat King Cole. Many of these references are picked up in both the Snyder film and Lindelof’s HBO series, including Nat King Cole’s “Unforgettable” and Billie Holiday’s “You’re My Thrill.” In part, music functions as a cultural marker of connection or disconnection and it highlights the stark difference between Laurie and Dan in terms of age. Laurie’s Devo reference goes over Dan’s head while Laurie is unable to recognize the voice of Billie Holiday, which plays just before they have sex. 

Week 8 (Watchmen): Bob Dylan and Jimi Hendrix, “All Along the Watchtower” (1968) and John Cale, “Sanities” (1982)

Chapter 10’s title of Watchmen is a reference to Bob Dylan’s song “All Along the Watchtower” (1967/68): the song is partially based on Isaiah 21, the prophecy of the fall of Babylon. The song is not only the source of the chapter’s title, but it provides imagery that is quoted and echoed in the chapter: “Two riders were approaching, and the wind began to howl.” However, the really iconic version of this song appears on Jimi Hendrix’s Electric Ladyland album released around the same time as Dylan’s version. Everyone from Eric Clapton, Neil Young, and Pearl Jam have covered the song, but Hendrix’s version is the most well-known and potent.

The final chapter of Watchmen, Chapter 12, gets its title from a 1982 John Cale song, “Sanctus (Sanities).” The song ends with the lyrics, “All so that it would be a stronger world / A strong though loving world / To die in.” Moore slightly misquotes these lines at the very end of the graphic novel, and we get a paraphrased version by Adrian Veidt in Lindelof’s Watchmen series (2019). 

Lovely Day (SP-404SX lo-fi beat)

Despite these challenging times during COVID-19, I hope everyone is having a lovely day and finding moments of joy. This is the first full beat I made using the pattern sequencer (and then performing it live) on the SP-404SX. It’s hardly perfect, but it was fun to put together. The intro features my 2-year old daughter (Ella) and the vocals are from my wife (Meg). The end clip is from Ikiru (“To Live”), which is a 1952 Japanese film by the legendary director, Akira Kurosawa. Peace.

A Review of Ken Hunt’s The Lost Cosmonauts

With the spirit of exploration that sent Dante into the unknown, Ken Hunt’s poetry collection The Lost Cosmonauts examines the experiences of astronauts and cosmonauts who ventured into outer space, especially those who lost their lives in the pursuit of their missions. Drawing from myth, largely from the Greco-Roman pantheons, Hunt details the global and socio-political conflict of the Cold War era in relation to the space race between the Soviet Union and the United States. Following his debut collection, Space Administration (2014), Hunt’s The Lost Cosmonauts continues his exploration of language, history, and humankind’s endeavour to explore space. The book is a small thing to hold in your hands, but the ideas are expansive, moving from our nascent efforts to explore outer space to the celestial bodies of the planets in our solar system (the section “Celestial Bodies” is inspired by Gustav Holst’s orchestral suite, The Planets). Engaging with a mythopoeia of the space race and showing an impressive control over poetic form and history, The Lost Cosmonauts is vital reading for those interested in the history and mythic significance of humanity’s explorations into space.

You can read my full review over at The Malahat Review, here.

“An Incontestable Beauty”: A Review of Esi Edugyan’s Washington Black

Washington Black—the third novel by Esi Edugyan and her second to win the Giller Prize—depicts the life of Washington (Wash) Black, who rises above the conditions of his time to shape a life based on his imagination, intelligence, and artistic talent. Wash seeks freedom and dignity in a society that would deny him the right to be fully human. The novel opens when Wash is eleven years old (it is narrated from his perspective as an eighteen-year-old) on Faith Plantation in Barbados in 1830. The contrast between a young and curious Washington and the injustice of his brutal surroundings is provided through the recollections of his older self: “What I felt at that moment, though I then lacked the language for it, was the raw, violent injustice of it all.” Edugyan does not shy away from the “unspeakable acts” of slavery and the way that slavery continues to affect Wash even when it is abolished throughout the British Empire in 1833. Edugyan’s writing—from her careful plotting to her complex characters—speaks a veritable truth about what it means to be truly free.

You can read my full review over at Canadian Literature, here.

“holding each other up”: A Review of Katherena Vermette’s The Break

Katherena Vermette’s The Break is a devastatingly beautiful novel that depicts the bonds between the women of an extended Indigenous family. With warp and weft, Vermette weaves together the voices of numerous intergenerational women to tell their personal stories as they deal with the enduring after-effects of trauma. The prose is sparse, yet dense (“Stella blinks a tear”), as the narrative takes a bare-knuckles approach to cut a jagged truth. Like her stunning poetic debut, North End Love Songs (2012), The Break deftly crafts Vermette’s complex relationship to Winnipeg’s North End. A surface reading concerns the mystery surrounding the sexual assault of a thirteen-year-old Métis girl vis-à-vis the police procedural that unfolds as a result of the crime: “Aboriginal female. Blood loss. Signs of sexual assault.” But the novel is far more complex than this, using numerous viewpoints to reveal the complicated sociopolitical conditions that produce violence and racism, and that cause harm to people, especially women, in Indigenous communities.

Click here to read my full review at Canadian Literature.

Special Issue of Critical Studies in Improvisation on Hip-Hop is Now Live

Cyphers: Hip-Hop and Improvisation

Vol 10, No 1

Edited by Paul Watkins and Rebecca Caines

To cypher is to rap, break, beatbox tightly together in a circle where each person just might get a moment in the spotlight. To cypher is to borrow and to lend, to playfully freewheel through whilst taking an exacting care for each word and carefully considering all the sounds, meanings, and interpretations. It is to fight back, to borrow, to steal, to represent, and to collaborate, whilst suddenly—surprisingly—at times aggressively claiming your own voice, your own right to speak. A cypher is a gathering of rappers, beatboxers, and/or breakers in a circle, extemporaneously making music together. In recent years, the cypher has also grown to include the crowd and spectators who are integral to maintaining the energy of a given cypher. In a cypher, one emcee will rap about a certain topic, which is quickly taken up or flipped by another emcee who plays off the prior words and themes. Each artist takes his or her respective turn, much like in a jazz solo. Cyphers flow freely between diverse performers who improvise their words, sounds, or movements to create a complex matrix of sharing. The circle can go on continuously, as long as emcees, beatboxers, dancers, and the crowd keep the fluidity of the cypher going. The cypher is welcoming and thus models a pedagogy that is inclusive and improvisational in nature.

This issue of Critical Studies in Improvisation/ Études critiques en improvisation aims to act as a cypher, engaging with the embodied practice of locally specific yet globally implicated hip-hop, as we consider the cypher as a metaphor for the complexities of critically thinking about improvisation more broadly. Appropriately, our theme of “Cyphers” attracted a wide range of analyses with many points of intersection. Our final selection ranges from discussions with historically significant scholars and practitioners in hip-hop and Black expressive culture to newer texts at the intersections between hip-hop and other art forms, as well as those tracing the improvisatory affects of hip-hop across cultural and technological boundaries.

Each paper in this issue addresses specific responses to the improvisatory impulse in hip-hop. We start the issue with a number of interviews. We are honoured that George Lipsitz agreed to interview Tricia Rose for this issue, bringing two significant scholars in Black Studies into conversation. This interview emphasizes Rose’s vital contributions to the field of hip-hop scholarship and addresses the broader importance of improvisatory Black expressive cultural practices as “sites and sources of knowledges, as repositories of collective memory, as sights of moral instruction, as ways of calling communities into being through interaction and through performance.” Rebecca Caines’ interview with leading Canadian hip-hop researcher Charity Marsh focuses on Marsh’s creation and leadership of the Interactive Media and Performance Labs in Saskatchewan as an innovative, exploratory space for disenfranchised communities to meet and learn about themselves through hip-hop practices. In conversation with Vancouver-based poet/scholar/DJ Wayde Compton, Paul Watkins addresses Compton’s work on history, identity, and race, exploring the idea of improvising Blackness from within both local (BC) and transnational contexts. This audio interview is then remixed a number of times to allow the conversation to interact with Compton’s readings of his own poetry and with a number of different music samples. Watkins then continues this exploration of critically engaged approaches to artistic practice with his review of Flying Lotus’s (aka FlyLo, born Steven Ellison) 2014 release, “You’re Dead!

Jesse Stewart examines the form of “jazz-rap” that emerged in the 1980s and ’90s. He charts the use of improvisational jazz forms in this type of hip-hop music and perceives this act as a kind of cultural memory practice that “mobilizes the musical past in the service of a socially progressive cultural politics of difference.” Niel Scobie addresses dissonance and “noise” in improvisation and in hip-hop music, with special attention to the music of Public Enemy. For Scobie, “anti-musical” aesthetics allow the group to create lineage with the “discordant cries” of African-American past practices whilst developing a potent improvisatory musical urgency and a call to arms.

Both Marcel Swiboda and Mark Campbell address technological mediation in hip-hop practices. Swiboda addresses “the break,” developing a new critical history of electronic tools for beatmaking to supplement existing scholarship, which has tended to focus more on the use of turntables for isolating and manipulating the breakbeat. Swiboda suggests that technological and material histories of improvisatory beatmaking practices can be “technologically driven, idiomatically specific vernacular modes of critical knowledge practice” and can also bear an “intimate link to improvisatory practices.” Campbell, on the other hand, focuses on current digital DJ practices. His ethnographic project is to discover how newer digital interfaces affect younger DJs in live performance and in radio settings. He argues that digital DJ interfaces might represent “ways to continue to humanize technology as a subversive afrosonic activity, while evolving the practice of DJing.”

See the full editorial and issue, here.

Critical Studies in Improvisation / Études critiques en improvisation is generously supported by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada (through both its Major Collaborative Research Initiatives and Aid to Scholarly Journals programs) and by the University of Guelph Library.

Portals: Sounds for Tomorrow

“Sound is to people what the sun is to light.” 
—Ornette Coleman 

I am happy to announce a new album!

Portals was made over the summer months of 2020 during the COVID-19 global pandemic. The first track—“Another World”—opens with a sample from the Man Booker Prize-winning Indian novelist Arundhati Roy speaking about the coronavirus pandemic as a portal: “It is a portal, a gateway between one world and the next.” With systemic injustices more visible than ever, she asks us to use this opportunity to imagine another world. This album is about that possibility, but it is also an album where I looked at music as healing, imagination, creativity, community, and play. 

For me, music has been a sustaining joy during the pandemic. Unlike my previous Dedications projects, I didn’t begin with a sample or style to manipulate, but simply made music that I felt (with a lo-fi hip-hop aesthetic) while trying to have as much fun as I could along the way. Beyond the vocal samples throughout (including Dr. Bonnie Henry, Mr. Rogers, and Totoro), I played much of the album using sample and drum kits (on my MPC Live and Roland SP-404SX) and an Arturia KeyStep controlling a KORG volca fm. Two of the tracks feature my children—“Good Feelin’” and “Lovely Day,” which also features my wife—and are about living in the moment and finding daily happiness. Both “Lovely Day” and “Imagination” were played live and remixed in real time on my SP-404sx. The penultimate track samples from the audiobook of Octavia E. Butler’s Parable of the Talents and reminds us that not only are we capable of change, but in order to survive we surely must change. The final song features vocal samples from Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech, as well as words from John Lewis and Killer Mike. While the context is explicitly American, King’s fierce urgency of now reminds us of the need to resist Canada’s own Anti-Black police violence and Anti-Black racism and Anti-Indigenous racism, which includes the recent deaths of Andrew Loku, Jermaine Carby, and Regis Korchinski-Paquet, among many others. “Now’s the time” to respond to the fierce urgency of this moment. Will we ignore the rupture the pandemic created and return to “normal,” or will we step through the portal into another world? 

The music is FREE and is a not-for-profit creative project (although you can donate to my musical praxis and future projects when downloading).  

Released August 22, 2020. Recorded, produced, mixed, and mastered by Paul db Watkins.


Paul (DJ Techné)


I am fortunate to be part of the 24-hour online #ImprovFest2020 (IF) taking place on August 8 at 1 AM GMT+1. Fortunately, that’s 5 pm in British Columbia where I live.

IF 2020 will livestream pre-recorded curated video and audio submissions from over 150+ artists from 15+ countries. The 24-hour festival is free to “attend” and will feature a dynamic array of improvisational artists, including musicians, spoken word poets, dancers, and theatre practitioners.

Visit the website, and see the trailer below (you can see me at the end of this clip):

And, for anyone interested, here’s the performance from IF 2020:

3 Must-See Films Directed by Women

Spending more time indoors (due to COVID-19) means that I have more opportunity to catch up on films from my massive watch list. From those recent viewings, I am recommending three phenomenal films directed and written by women, all of which shared themes of psychological isolation and featured women finding their worth outside of the definitions and limitations imposed upon them by a patriarchal society.

The first film is Anna Rose Holmer’s debut, The Fits (2015). The film tells the story of Toni (played by Royalty Hightower): an 11-year old who trains with her brother at the boxing gym and then decides to join and fit into a girl’s dance troupe in the same community centre. The troupe begins to inexplicably suffer from a wave of violent fits. Holmer did a lot of research into real-life stories of seizure-like attacks affecting young women, going all the way back to cases like the dancing plague of 1518. On the surface, the film is a typical bildungsroman, but it is a much deeper film about what it feels like to be psychologically isolated while trying to navigate a fledging sense of self. The film does an excellent job of establishing mood and the final sequence is pure cinema. In fact, much of the film defies traditional dramatic convention in order to take us directly inside the head of Toni who is often framed looking at herself (through mirrors), her peers (through windows), and directly at the audience. 

The next film is Jennifer Kent’s The Nightingale (2018). Of the three films, I recommend this one with some reserve and a warning that this is an extremely graphic and potentially very triggering movie. Where Kent’s The Babadook (2014) relied on implied psychical terror, The Nightingale is brutal and shows the full force of settler and patriarchal colonialism and its machinations of violence on women and Indigenous people. The story’s backdrop is colonization in Australia in 1825, and the film brings the violence through which the colony was established to the forefront: rape and violence inflicted upon children are prevalent throughout. I definitely got vibes of Jane Campion’s The Piano (1993), except where Indigenous people are mostly silent in Campion’s film, we do get a somewhat larger perspective of the effects of colonialism and racism through an excellent performance from Baykali Ganambarr as “Billy”: an Indigenous tracker who accompanies our central character as she seeks revenge on her oppressors. Roughly, the film is about an Irish women convict named Clare (played by Aisling Franciosi) seeking retribution for the atrocities committed against her and her family. The film deals directly with her psychological isolation and her lack of support, although she finds shared grief and solace with Billy who has also lost much to colonial violence.  Kent’s film provides an unflinching look at the British penal colony of Van Diemen’s Land (now the Australian state of Tasmania), and while it is hardly a film many would want to endure, its palpable anger and themes of redemption are ultimately rewarding: “I belong to me and no one else!”

The final film is Céline Sciamma’s Portrait of a Lady on Fire, or Portrait de la jeune fille en feu in French (2019). Portrait is a historical drama set in France during the late 18th century. It tells the story of a forbidden affair between an aristocrat and a painter. The painter—Marianne, played by Noémie Merlant—has been summoned to a remote seaside estate to paint a portrait of Héloïse (Adèle Haenel) to send to the family of her suitor (because Héloïse resists arranged marriage, Marianne is charged with painting in secret). The film is full of tension as the two women come to know each other through sustained gaze, expression, and eventually through physical intimacy. Spectacularly, this romance unfolds outside the world of men (and without men on screen) as these two women (and the house servant Sophie, played by Luàna Bajrami) learn to see themselves outside the confines of patriarchy. This film said so much about the nature of the gaze and the frames (boxes) in which the women felt confined. I was captivated by every second of this film and found Claire Mathon’s cinematography a revelation (her stellar work can also be seen in Atlantics, another film I highly recommend). Lastly, the extended use of music for the final shot— Presto from “Summer” from Vivaldi’s Four Seasons—reminded me of the great French director Claire Denis, and is a moment that lingers long after the film. If you enjoyed this film, make sure you check out other excellent work by Sciamma including Tomboy (2011) and Girlhood (2014). 

A few other recent films by women with similar themes to the above that I would recommend include Dee ReesPariah (2011), Ana Lily Amirpour’s A Girls Walks Home Alone at Night (2014), Lulu Wang’s The Farewell (2019), and Mati Diop’s Atlantics (2019; Diop was the first Black woman to direct a film featured in competition at Cannes).

What did you think of the films if you’ve seen any of them? Feel free to drop a comment below, and happy watching. 

Also, remember to wear masks and social distance (as excellently demonstrated in Portrait of a Lady on Fire).

Social Distancing in Portrait of a Lady on Fire

#BLM Playlist: Revolution, Protest, and Peace

There is a specificity to Black voice and song, as Afrosporic poet and critic M. NourbeSe Philip describes in her engagement with Lindon Barrett’s Blackness and Value: Seeing Double, which “come[s] out of a particular history of pain, trauma and a determination to make meaning of one’s life no matter what; it is sound lodged in commitment to matter to and value one’s self and one’s community in the face of a culture that continues to assert that Black lives lack meaning and are irrelevant except and in so far as they are useful” (Blank 24). The history of Black music in North America is deeply embedded in a Black radical tradition which responds to the abject violence of slavery and Anti-Black Racism through unscripted performances, shouts, moans, and cries; furthermore, the history also concerns traditions of celebration, signifyin’, unity, play, and constant revision. From Billie Holiday’s “Strange Fruit” to Rage Against the Machine’s “Killing in the Name,” music has played a part in the pursuit of social justice for a long time.

I offer this playlist—a song a day for the rest of the month of June—in response to ongoing civil unrest in the United States, and in solidarity with those protesting the killing of George Floyd who was himself a hip-hop artist. One can draw a line from Emmett Till to Michael Stewart to Trayvon Martin to Michael Brown to Sandra Bland to George Floyd, but one could also connect that line to a divergent one that includes Canada’s own Anti-Black police violence and Anti-Black Racism, which includes the recent deaths of Andrew Loku, Jermaine Carby, and Regis Korchinski-Paque to name but a few. The playlist (in progress) offers a small sampling of songs in support of Black Lives and in the spirit of revolution, protest, and peace. Some of the songs are rightfully angry, some confront Anti-Black Racism (as we all should), and others offer medicine and healing. The entire world benefits from the excellence and power of Black words, art, protest, and song. Listen! #BlackLivesMatter

Also, please considering donating to any of the following:


June 3: Kendrick Lamar, “Alright” (2015)
June 4: Gil Scott-Heron, “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised” (1970)
June 5: Tracy Chapman, “Talkin’ Bout A Revolution” (1988)
June 6: Three Songs from Run the Jewels 4 (2020)
June 7: Public Enemy, “Fight the Power” (1989)
June 8: N.W.A., “Fuck tha Police” (1988) et al. 
June 9: Eight Canadian Hip-Hop Songs that Speak to Anti-Black and Anti-Indigenous Racism in Canada
June 10: Prince, “Baltimore” (2015)
June 11: John Coltrane, “Alabama (1964)
June 12: Nina Simone: “Mississippi Goddam” (1964)
June 13: Odetta, “Spiritual Trilogy: “Oh Freedom / Come and Go with Me / I’m on My Way” (1956)
June 14: Rhiannon Giddens, “Cry No More” (2015) and “At the Purchaser’s Option” (2017)
June 15: Childish Gambino, “This is America” (2018)
June 16: Max Roach and Abbey Lincoln, “Triptych: Prayer, Protest, and Peace” (1960)
June 17: Lillian Allen, “The Subversives” and “I Fight Back” (1986)
June 18: Beyoncé, “Formation” (2016)
June 19: Anderson .Paak, “Lockdown” (2020)
June 20: Marvin Gaye, “What’s Going On” and “Inner City Blues” (1971)
June 21: Brother Ali, “Dear Black Son” (2017)
June 22 and 23: Dead Kennedys, Nazi Punks Fuck Off (1981), Bad Brains, “I Against I” (1986), and The 1865, “Buckshot” (2019)
June 24: The Honey Drippers, “Impeach the President” (1973)
June 25: Sly and the Family Stone, “Stand!” (1969)
June 26: Billie Holiday and Nina Simone, “Strange Fruit” (1939 | 1965)  
June 27: Alice Coltrane, “Om Shanti” (1987) et al. 
June 28: Bob Marley, “Redemption Song” (1980)
June 29: Oscar Peterson, “Hymn to Freedom” (1962)
June 30: Sam Cooke, “A Change is Gonna Come” (1964) 


Kendrick Lamar’s To Pimp a Butterfly provides an Umwalzung—that is, revolution—through a complete overturning of prior mainstream hip-hop album templates, as Lamar enacts one of the most ferocious black chants ever to appear on a hip-hop record. The album’s unforgiving blackness is important, because it reminds white and non-Black listeners that sometimes we need to sit down and listen to the conversation that is taking place rather than try to control or shape it. “Alright” captured the spirit of protest at the time, and feels just as relevant now. From Greg Tate: “Lamar’s “Alright” has been touted by many a comrade in today’s student activist cadre as their “We Shall Overcome.”

Listen to the song on my Spotify playlist (with a song added each day), and if you haven’t seen the video, which remains as relevant some 5 years later, make sure you do: 

June 4: Gil Scott-Heron, “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised” (1970)

Both The Last Poets and Gil Scott-Heron linked poetry and music/jazz together, and their proto-rap lyrics and politics were major influences on hip-hop culture (also see). Scott-Heron has a number of incredible poems/ songs, but his most deeply embedded in the pop culture zeitgeist is “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised” (first from Small Talk at 125th and Lenox). In part, Scott-Heron was responding to The Last Poet’s “When the Revolution Comes” (1970), which opens with “When the revolution comes some of us will probably catch it on TV” (also included on the Spotify playlist). In this current era of fake news and mass media, Scott-Heron’s anthem remains a staple of protest and Black social revolution. The song calls on Americans (and we can extend that beyond American borders) to wake up and realize that the revolution happens in the streets and not behind a television set (or in this day, an iPhone). The revolution lives on!

June 5: Tracy Chapman, “Talkin’ Bout a Revolution” (1988)

Written during the Regan era, Tracy Chapman’s “Talkin’ Bout a Revolution” is about what empowers people to revolt and protest (“to rise up and take what’s theirs”), as well as a warning to those who stand in the way of change: “Don’t you know you better, run, run, run … Finally the tables are starting to turn.” In 1990, Chapman sang the song at a Free South Africa concert where she met Nelson Mandela, and in 2016 it was the unofficial theme for Bernie Sanders’ 2016 campaign. The song remains incredibly pertinent in its call for revolution. 

Listen to the song on my Spotify playlist (with a song added each day).

June 6: Three Songs from Run the Jewels 4 (2020)

I’ve been listening to EL-P and Killer Mike since the early 2000s and so I was thrilled when the two formed Run the Jewels back in 2013. Every album they’ve released has been a banger, and their fourth installment feels like their most mature work. They’ve always been a political group, as evident on many songs—the video for “Close Your Eyes (And Count To F**k)” feels germane for this moment—or statements by Killer Mike,  but the fervour of dissent in their fourth offering feels louder and more urgent with recent protests and Anti-Black racism and killings in North America. One of the most powerful verses on the entire album comes from Killer Mike on “Walking in the Snow” where he raps: “And you so numb you watch the cops choke out a man like me / Until my voice goes from a shriek to whisper, ‘I can’t breathe’ / And you sit there in the house on couch and watch it on TV.” Given this track was recorded months ago it is about Eric Garner, but it is also inadvertently about George Floyd too. Despite the nearly six years between these events, and the very public spectacle of the unjust killings, the lyrics underscore the perpetual cycle of America’s racist violence. This spirit of protest—although the album is still full of the usual braggadocio lyricism the two are known for—runs through the veins of the album. The first single (released back in late April)—“Ooh La La”— is a homage to the old school for the present moment and features veterans DJ Premier and Greg Nice. The video for the song, as described by RTJ “is a fantasy of waking up on a day that there is no monetary system, no dividing line, no false construct to tell our fellow man that they are less or more than anyone else.” I’d also be remiss to not mention ““JU$T,” which features Pharrell Williams and Rage Against the Machine’s Zack de la Rocha and a classic protest chorus: “Look at all these slave masters posin’ on yo’ dollar (Get it, yeah).” Kill Your Masters. 

June 7: Public Enemy, “Fight the Power” (1989)

Public Enemy’s anthemic “Fight the Power” was written at the request of film director Spike Lee who was looking for a musical theme for his 1989 film, Do the Right Thing.  The song remains one of the greatest protest songs of all time, and its militancy can be heard in both its lyrics and sound (which features samples from Civil Rights refrains, the black church, and the music of James Brown, including the line “I’m black and I’m proud”). Sadly, after I played Do the Right Thing in a FILM 101 class last year, I had many white students focus on the loss of Sal’s Pizzeria while the murdering of Radio Raheem didn’t register. The reality of “We Can’t Breathe” remains and is part of a continuum that stretches back to slavery. Lee’s film was inspired by a 1986 event, where a young black man, Michael Griffith, was chased by Italians and then killed by a car. With this background, and throughout the film, the refrain of Public Enemy’s “Fight the Power” functions like a Greek Chorus. Coming from the ghetto blaster of Radio Raheem, we are given a sonic metaphor for what it is like to walk in stereo.  Like the “love” and “hate” brass knuckles that adorn the hands of Radio Raheem (and like Public Enemy’s “Fight the Power” blasting out of his portable ghetto blaster), we need to find ways to use love to battle the hate that cannibalizes North America. We need to continue to find creative, positive, hopeful, and, at times, militant ways, “to fight the powers that be.” 

Note 1: Spike Lee directed the video for “Fight the Power” and staged a protest/ live performance. Lee opens the video with footage from the 1963 March on Washington, which transitions to a staged political rally in  Brooklyn named the “Young People’s March to End Racial Violence.”

Note 2: I’ve also added Brown’s Black Power classic “Say It Loud – I’m Black and I’m Proud” (1968) to the playlist. 

June 8: N.W.A., “Fuck tha Police” (1988) et al. 

Hip-hop’s didactic function is in part its ability to trouble, as heard in N.W.A.’s anti-police brutality and anti-racial profiling anthem “Fuck tha Police,” which drew the ire of the FBI and which repeats the phrase “fuck tha police” multiple times in the chorus. “Fuck tha Police” appears on the group’s 1988 album, Straight Outta Compton: the song portrays a mock court scene, in which the Police Department is put on trial. The song itself has been translated into other mediums and genres and was covered by the alternative rock group Rage Against the Machine. Rage Against the Machine are, of course, known for “Killing in the Name” (1992), which was written in relation to institutional racism and police brutality: “Some of those that work forces are the same that burn crosses.” N.W.A.’s ire comes from a similar place although it is located specifically within the community of young black youths in Compton (it is worth noting that the Compton Police Department was disbanded by the City Council in 2000). The song’s violent and anti-authoritarian message provokes response by stating that the Compton police “have the authority to kill a minority.” Rather than simply dismiss an intentionally incendiary song, it is better to look at the ethos that creates anger towards the establishment in the first place, recalling Curtis Mayfield’s defense of the honest depiction of poverty and social violence in blaxploitation films; he believes that “the way you clean up the films is by cleaning up the street. The music and movies of today are the conditions that exist. You change music and movies by changing the conditions” (qtd. in Wax Poetics, “Gangster Boogie” 88). Back in 1991, 2pac responded to police brutality on songs like “I Don’t Give a Fuck” and “Violent” and systemic educational racism by rapping: “No Malcolm X in my history text, why is that? / Cause he tried to educate and liberate all blacks” (2pacalypse, “Words of Wisdom”).  Other notable songs, although there are far too many to name here, include KRS-One’s “Sound of Da Police” (1993), Dead Prez’s “Police State” (2000), Jay Dilla’s “Fuck the Police” (2001), Vince Staples’s “Hands Up (2014), and Nas’s “Cops Shot the Kid” (2018). Depending on context, it’s time to reform, defund, or disband police, as there our other alternative (and even hybrid) possibilities.  Tomorrow, I will focus on a few songs in a Canadian context. 

June 9: Eight Canadian Hip-Hop Songs that Speak to Anti-Black and Anti-Indigenous Racism in Canada

Clearly, I am going beyond the song a day scope of this project, but there is far too much to cover, and even this playlist barely scratches the surface. Just in the context of Canadian hip-hop, there could easily be 100s of songs listed here. 

There is a long history of hip-hop culture and music in Canada as well as a long history of Black resistance going back to slavery in Canada. Critic Rinaldo Walcott usefully contends that “what is at stake in Canadian hip hop is a refiguring of an elaboration of the urban landscape of Canada and by extension the urban landscape of North America—black and otherwise” (“Methodology” 239). In Canadian hip-hop, narratives of belonging and unbelonging resist simple reductions of multiculturalism and ask us to reconsider the scope of Anti-Black racism, the nation-state, and geographical boundaries.

The first track is from Maestro Fresh Wes. Maestro Fresh Wes’s 1989 “Let Your Backbone Slide” was the first Canadian hip-hop single to break into the US Billboard chart. But, it is his track Nothin’ At All” (1991) from his follow-up album that I want to highlight, which directly looks at Canada as country a “plagued with racism.” Despite this, Wes rightly celebrates Black excellence.

No playlist would be complete without a little Kardinal Offishall, and Everyday (Rudebwoy)” (2005) speaks directly to Kardinal’s experience as a Black man in Toronto: “So where I rest I’m stressed by the 5-0 (Here we go) / Cops drive around the turf, lookin’ for someone to search / With they flashlights checkin’ in my dashboard (Whatchu lookin’ for?).”

Few Canadian hip-hop artists (other than Drake) have had the level of international success that rapper/ poet K’naan has, and few Canadian hip-hop songs are as well-known as K’naan’s song of global fraternity, “Wavin’ Flag.” K’naan was born in Somalia in 1978 and grew up in the violent capital of Mogadishu until the Somali Civil War struck in 1991. Much of his earlier music also speaks to his experience in Rexdale in Toronto, which has a large Somali community. K’naan brings us directly into the struggle that he embodies, even in a supposedly safe space like Toronto (particularly, Rexdale), and calls together a community of post-sufferers in the anthemic track, “Strugglin’” (2006) one of K’naan’s first singles from The Dusty Foot Philosopher. 

Next is a track (and feature) from one of my favourite rappers, Shad. Black Canadian rap artist Shad relates the crazed infatuation with Blackness to the roles he is expected to perform as a black man in Canada as a form of mental slavery: “With mental slavery, the shackles is loose / And it’s hard to cut chains when they attached at the roots” (Old Prince, “Brother Watching,” 2007). The next track is “24 (Toronto Remix)” ( 2020) by Tobi—a Nigerian-Canadian rapper— and features Shad along with Haviah Mighty, Jazz Cartier, and Ejji Smith. The lyrics and video are both incredibly poignant, and Shad’s verse is a standout. See the video

Toronto rapper Spek Won makes politically charged hip-hop and his jazzy “Black Body” (2015), featuring Shi Wisdom, recalls the past for the present moment, especially as Shi Wisdom incorporates lyrics from the powerful and iconic “Strange Fruit” for the chorus. See an interview with Spek Won with Exclaim!, here.

Lastly, I thought it worth mentioning two songs (there are so many more) from Indigenous hip-hop artists based in Canada who also face police brutality and oppression in Canada. War Party’s first album, The Reign, put First Nations rappers on the Canadian Hip Hop radar: their song Feelin’ Reserved” (2000) was the first major First Nations Hip Hop music video to get rotation on Much Music; furthermore, War Party won the Aboriginal Music Award for best rap album in 2000. In a conversation with Tara Henley of Vancouver’s Georgia Straight, Rex Smallboy (the de facto leader of War Party) states that it was natural for Indigenous youth to adopt Hip Hop as a mode of expression: “When I heard a lot of the African-American artists talking about what they saw in their communities, the social conditions, that made me take a look at what was going on in my own neighborhood […] This is the reserve—this is not Compton; this is not the Bronx” (“Beyond the Reserve”). In War Party’s The Reign, there is no romanticizing of life on the reserve: “it is depicted as a place of loss, degradation, and ultimately as an endless reminder of the effects of colonization.

There are now so many important Indigenous artists making politically charged music in Canada, but it’s been incredible to watch the rise of Haisla Nation duo, Snotty Nose Rez Kids. Their latest, Trapline, is full of deft lyricism, unique beats that mix classic hip-hop with trap, and raw truths. They recently released a song entitled “Cops With Guns Are the Worst!!!” (2020), which animates the track’s title well. 

For more on Canadian Hip Hop, check out the Northside Hip Hop project by director Mark V. Campbell. 

June 10: Prince, “Baltimore” (2015)

A few days back, on June 7, Prince’s Estate released a lyric video for Prince’s 2015 song “Baltimore” in honour of Prince’s Birthday and George Floyd. The estate also released a handwritten note from the musician that read: “Nothing more ugly in the whole wide world than intolerance [between] black, white, red, yellow, boy or girl. Intolerance.” “Baltimore” was written as a response to the death of Baltimore’s Freddie Gray who died in 2015 while in police custody, which led to large protests in the city. The funk-driven song is part protest and part peace anthem, and was performed live in Baltimore at the Rally 4 Peace, which provided some needed healing for many in the city. Given that Minneapolis is Prince’s hometown, one can only imagine about how sad he would feel about the killing of George Floyd. As he recognized, adapting a popular political slogan dating back to the 1986 murder of Michael Griffith: “If there ain’t no justice, then there ain’t no peace” (“Baltimore”). 

June 11: John Coltrane: “Alabama” (1964)

So much of the music of John Coltrane is intricate and dense, at times intensely beautiful and at others primal and unsettling. Coltrane’s music was also very spiritual as he envisioned a cosmic understanding of peace. Arguably, there is always a politics at work in jazz, but one of Coltrane’s most directly political tracks is “Alabama” (1964) from Live at Birdland. “Alabama” was a direct response to the 1963 bombing of 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham. The attack was orchestrated by the KKK and it left four young girls dead and another twenty-two injured. This act of white American terrorism was a turning point in the Civil Rights Movement as mass support grew for the Civil Rights Act of 1964. 

June 12: Nina Simone: “Mississippi Goddam” (1964)

Nina Simone might just be my favourite singer. She’s also a very talented pianist and she spent the summer of 1950 training at Julliard to apply to the Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia. She wasn’t accepted and believed it was because she was a Black woman. Nina Simone has a number of protest songs that deal with the Black experience, including “I Wish I Knew How It Would Feel to Be Free,” “To Be Young, Gifted and Black,” “Four Women,” “Why? The King of Love is Dead,” and others (I’ve added a number to the playlist).  One of the most memorable protest songs written by Simone is “Mississippi Goddam,” which was an impassioned response to the 1963 murder of Civil Rights leader Medgar Evers, as well as the same church bombing that inspired Coltrane’s “Alabama.” The song was banned in several Southern states, in part because of the use of “Goddam” in the title. Simone uses the jaunty show-tune structure to deliver a powerful song that speaks out against the brutality of state-sanctioned violence towards African Americans who were denied the rights of citizenship. The song was performed in front of 10,000 people at the end of the Selma Marches when she and other Black activists crossed police lines. 

June 13: Odetta, “Spiritual Trilogy: “Oh Freedom / Come and Go with Me / I’m on My Way” (1956)

Odetta has been referred to as “The Voice of the Civil Rights Movement,” and Martin Luther King, Jr. called her the Queen of American Folk music. She influenced a number of folk musicians including Bob Dylan and Janis Joplin, and her music mixed folk, blues, and spirituals. All of her music is worth checking out, but I want to highlight her “Spiritual Trilogy” (1956) because, as Black liberation theologian James H. Cone argues in The Spirituals and the Blues, “The power of the song in the struggle for black survival—that is what the spirituals and blues are about” (1). The spirituals affirm unity and Black humanity though a communal context, and Odetta was a consummate performer of the tradition. 

June 14: Rhiannon Giddens, “Cry No More” (2015) and “At the Purchaser’s Option” (2017)  

This weekend I am focusing on Black folk music, and one of the most talented musicians working in folk music today is Rhiannon Giddens. “At the Purchaser’s Option” (2017) is based on an advertisement from the 1830s of a young black woman for sale. In the song, Giddens asserts the woman’s humanity against the horrific conditions she finds herself in. The other song I want to share is “Cry No More” (2015), which was written as a direct response to the Charleston church shooting in which nine African Americans were killed during a Bible study by a white terrorist. The song is fairly bare bones and features Giddens’s voice and drum, and a choir. The song reaches deep into the annals of history with the refrain, “I can’t cry no more:” 

Five hundred years of poison (I can’t cry no more
Five hundred years of grief (I can’t cry no more)
Five hundred years of reasons (I can’t cry no more)
To weep with disbelief (I can’t cry no more)

See the moving video (unfortunately it is not available on Spotify) and check out more from Giddens’s discography!

June 15: Childish Gambino, “THIS IS America” (2018)

Childish Gambino’s “This is America” (2018) is an obvious choice for the playlist, but both the song and video remain a visceral and surreal statement for addressing gun violence, racism, and police brutality in America: “This is America / Don’t catch you slippin’ now / Look at how I’m livin’ now / Police be trippin’ now / Yeah, this is America.” In the video, directed by Hiro Murai, who also directed the incredible “Teddy Perkins” episode of Atlanta, Gambino plays with the Jump Jim Crow caricature, as he directly deals with America’s persistent violence. Other recent hip-hop songs—also added to the playlist—that tackle America’s history of violence and Anti-Black racism include Kevin Abstract’s “Miserable America” (2016), Common’s “Black America Again” (2016), Joey Bada$$’s “Land of the Free” (2017), and JAG’s “Kapernick Effect” (2018). 

You’ve likely seen the video for Gambino’s “This is America,” but even if you have, it’s worth another close watch. 

June 16: Max Roach and Abbey Lincoln, “TRIPTYCH: Prayer, Protest, and Peace” (1960)

There are a lot of political jazz records—a somewhat recent example being Wadada Leo Smith’s Ten Freedom Summers (2012)—but a major landmark album is the 1960s Civil Rights-focused album, We Insist: Max Roach’s Freedom Now Suite. The standout—for me and many—on the album is “Triptych: Prayer, Protest, and Peace,” which is an improvised collaboration between Roach on drums and Abbey Lincoln on vocals. Abbey’s voice is remarkable, and the wordless performance feels visceral. The song climaxes with Lincoln’s screams and cries, as she traces the parallels between the African American experience and slavery and apartheid in South Africa. Be prepared as it is a fairly intense, but essential listen.

June 17: Lillian Allen, “The Subversives” and “I Fight Back” (1986)

Dub poetry is a form of performance poetry with a West Indian aesthetic and origin. It evolved out of dub music comprised of spoken word pieces over reggae rhythms and Nyabinghi traditions in Jamaica beginning in the 1970s, and a number of Caribbean immigrant women have used the form to articulate their experience upon emigrating to Canada. Dub is an immigrant art form: it is an articulation and performance of citizenship rights, often across borders and through cross-cultural connections to diasporic communities. Black women have used poetry and music to fight back and resist, and in an American context we hear this in the work of Jayne Cortez, Sonia Sanchez, and Nikki Giovanni (see the playlist). In Canada, we hear this same resistance in the work of dub poets (although hardly limited to that form) Lillian Allen, Afua Cooper, d’bi.young, Ahdri Zhina Mandiela, among many others. Lillian Allen is one of the founding mothers of dub poetry in Canada and her first two albums won the Juno Award for Best Reggae/Calypso Album (for Revolutionary Tea Party in 1986 and Conditions Critical in 1988). Allen is a trailblazer in the field of spoken word and dub, and her album Revolutionary Tea Party is a good starting place for getting into her music and poetry as she translates her diasporic experience into “new forms” (“The Subversives”). In “I Fight Back” she reminds us that in a “just” country like Canada they label her “Immigrant, Law-breaker, Illegal, Minimum Wager / Ah no, Not Mother, Not Worker, Not fighter / And I Fight Back.” See her live performance of “I Fight Back” at the Shipdeck Stage, Harbourfront Toronto in 1988 for the WOMAD Festival.

June 18: Beyoncé, “Formation” (2016)

Back in 2016, we got to see notions of Malcolm X’s “Black is Beautiful” (à la Steve Biko) and “By any means necessary” reach millions vis-à-vis Beyoncé’s charged Super Bowl performance of “Formation” (the closing track of Lemonade). The performance, which featured dancers dressed as Black Panthers getting into the “Formation” of an X (an icon of identity, resistance, and the human right for self-identification), was a fervid Black Power anthem and a call to arms. The video for “Formation,” directed by Melina Matsoukas, who made her film directorial debut in 2019 with Queen and Slim, is itself a resonant intervention into the popular imagination concerning the #BlackLivesMatter movement, and it unapologetically celebrates roots and history while disavowing white supremacy’s desire to control Black cultural narratives. It’s remarkable to see the intersection of aesthetics and politics taking place in popular music, as new Black radical thinkers, activists, writers, and musicians provide the soundtrack for the current zeitgeist. Beyoncé and the various poets and filmmakers who worked on Lemonade enact their own resistive formation to reclaim subjectivity and Black womanhood.

Here’s a list of “Six Beyoncé Pieces By Women of Color That You Should Read Right Now.”

Check out the video for “Formation” below:

June 19: Anderson .Paak, “Lockdown” (2020)

Today is Juneteenth, which commemorates the liberation of enslaved African-Americans on June 19, 1865. It is a day to honour Black resistance, excellence, and freedom from slavery (at least in one form). There are a number of spirituals that would be fitting for today, but both Anderson .Paak and Public Enemy dropped a new song in the last 24 hours, and both speak to the ongoing struggle for the liberation of Black people. Because I’ve already posted on Public Enemy (but check out “State of the Union (STFU)” on the playlist), I am focusing on Anderson .Paak’s “Lockdown,” which speaks to the COVID-19 lockdown as a kind of container that makes systemic injustices more visible than ever, and which overfills and explodes as we’ve seen in recent protests: “You shoulda been downtown, the people are rising / We thought it was a lock down … Sicker than the covid how they did him on the ground / Speaking of the covid is it still goin around? / Oh why don’t you tell me bout the lootin what’s that really all about? / Cause they throw away Black lives like paper towels.” It’s often easier to talk about the past, but I feel that Anderson really captures this moment in relation to the ongoing struggle for Black liberation. Also, if you haven’t seen The Free Nationals featuring Anderson .Paak’s Tiny Desk Concert, do yourself a favour and watch that! ✊🏾

June 20: Marvin Gaye, “What’s Going On” and “Inner City Blues” (1971)

“For only love can conquer hate.”
—Marvin Gaye, “What’s Going On”

“Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.” 
—Martin Luther King, Jr., Strength to Love 47

I am reminded of how Nelson Mandela, while in prison, drew strength—momentarily dissolving the prison walls—while listening to Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On”: an anti-war, anti-poverty, and anti-injustice post-Civil Rights anthem (Gilroy, The Black Atlantic). Mandela was able to draw power from the energy of the Civil Rights Movement in the States and relate it to his own struggles in apartheid South Africa. “What’s Going On” (the album and the song) are a powerful statement about the state of the world (across borders) and the specific Black struggle within it. The lyrics could have been written yesterday: “Mother, mother / There’s far too many of you crying / Brother, brother, brother / There’s far too many of you dying …/ Picket lines and picket signs / Don’t punish me with brutality / Talk to me, so you can see / Oh, what’s going on.” So many people know and love this album, but as composer and trumpeter Terence Blanchard has recently pointed out, “how many people listen to the groove and the melody of this song, without really hearing the words. And that made me realize that many well-meaning people have heard only the melody of our plight, without knowing what the song means for us.” Blanchard goes on to say that now is the time (an echo of MLK. and Charlie Parker before him) to “see the pain that doesn’t go away. To understand the smile that hides the immense hurt.” There is a connection between aesthetics and rhetoric (sound and meaning)—how a song sounds can be instrumental in conveying its meaning, and as listeners, especially those of us on the outside looking in, we need to work to understand that and feel it as much as is possible. The other incredibly relevant song from the same album (manifesto?) is “Inner City Blues (Make Me Wanna Holler),” which speaks to the bleak economic situation of inner-city America, a holler that is echoed as African Americans bear the brunt of COVID-19’s economic impact. Both songs, and a few covers of “Inner City Blues” (Sly Dunbar and Etta James) are now on the playlist.

An official video for the song was released in 2019, and was shot in Detroit and Flint Michigan: 

June 21: Brother Ali, “Dear Black Son” (2017)

Today is Father’s Day. George Floyd’s three kids—the youngest is 6—will not get to see their Dad today and that is truly horrible for so many reasons. It’s never too early to start talking to kids about race and to teach them to be Anti-racist.

Rapper and activist Brother Ali is known for his adept lyrics, and as a legally blind albino and Muslim, he has dealt with his share of being seen as different. As he raps on “US,” “can’t nobody be free unless we’re all free/ there’s no me and no you it’s just us” (“Us”). One of his most touching songs is “Dear Black Son” (2017), and on the track he addresses his black son directly, explaining that there are racist people who have stereotypes of him based on his skin colour, including police officers who mask their fears and racism as self-defence: “Dear Black Son, there’s people you’ve never met / Who fear and hate you for something that you never did / And these people are so self-convinced / Sometimes they pull the trigger, call that self-defence.” See the song on the playlist, as well as Brother Ali’s breakdown of the song, below:

June 22 and 23: Dead Kennedys, Nazi Punks Fuck Off (1981), Bad Brains, “I Against I” (1986), and The 1865, “Buckshot” (2019)

“When you’re black you’re punk rock all the time” (Sacha Jenkins, The 1865). 

When many people think of early punk music, they often mention The Sex Pistols and The Clash in relation to the angst of working-class white men. But when we dig a little deeper, we find numerous black and brown (especially Latino) pioneers of punk. Black punks were at the forefront of early punk, including groups like Death (see the documentary A Band Called Death), Pure Hell, Fishbone, and the most famous of them all, Bad Brains. Bad Brains formed in 1976 and got their name from a Ramone’s song, and their music mixed reggae and other elements within the burgeoning field of hardcore (also spearheaded by groups like Black Flag and Minor Threat). Bad Brain’s song, “I Against I” (1986), speaks against the selfishness of a society that pits people against one another. Arguably, much of punk music has always been anti-racist and self-reflexive about its own movement, evidenced in a song like “Nazi Punks Fuck Off” (1981) by The Dead Kennedys (whose drummer, D. H. Peligro, is Black). There are also many current Black punk bands, such as The 1865. The 1865 is a direct reference to the Emancipation proclamation, and their work explores different aspects of life in 1865 America: a land living in the shadows of the fallen Confederacy. See the video for their song, “Buckshot” (2019). Also, see the 2003 documentary, Afro-Punk for a view into the history of Black punk rock music.

June 24: The Honey Drippers, “Impeach the President” (1973)

The Honey Drippers “Impeach the President” has been sampled in nearly 800 songs and its recognizable intro drum break can be heard in songs by everyone from Eric B & Rakim, Nas, Dr. Dre, and Janet Jackson. The 1973 song was a funky protest that advocated for the impeachment of President Nixon during the Watergate scandal. Of course, this song could really be posted any day in relation to the many racist (including anti-Black), homophobic/transphobic, and misogynistic statements and scandals by America’s current “idiot” (type the word into Google) in charge. Trump was impeached by the house, but then acquitted by the Senate, and so it looks like voting him out in November is America’s only option.  

June 25: Sly & the Family Stone, “Stand!” (1969) 

“Stand!” (from Stand!) is one of Sly & the Family Stone’s defining political statements as well as a watershed moment in protest music. “Stand!” features their typical church-infused harmonies (including an extended gospel break) with piano and unexpected mood and tone shifts. The lyrics encourage protest while also acknowledging that many are engaged in less visible acts of protest that reflect on personal change and oppression. Ultimately, the song encourages us to act and stand up and speak up for what we believe in even when others disagree. Stand! 

June 26: Billie Holiday and Nina Simone, “Strange Fruit” (1939 | 1965) 

Time magazine called “Strange Fruit” the song of the century, and Bob Dylan said that the song is a personal inspiration. Originally “Strange Fruit” was a poem written by Jewish high school teacher Abel Meeropol. A photograph of the lynching of two black teenagers, Thomas Shipp and Abram Smith (August 7, 1930), inspired the poem. Billie Holiday pushed Columbia to record “Strange Fruit” but fearing a backlash they declined. Holiday instead went to Commodore records with her band and recorded it in a single afternoon. It was a song, Billie Holiday explained, “that was blacklisted in the United States for being too controversial. A song that speaks to all the disregarded and downtrodden black people in the United States. A song that is a reminder of how love is the only thing that will conquer all the hatred in this world.” Jazz musician and journalist Leonard Feather called the song “the first significant protest in words and music, the first unmuted cry against racism,” and it remains a song that still inspires books, an opera, and other renditions. One of the best versions of the song is Nina Simone’s stripped-down and highly emotive take (which Kanye West, with some controversy, samples on his “Blood on The Leaves”). Sadly, recent Anti-Black violence and lynchings in the United States speak to America’s ongoing legacy of slavery and racism.  See Holiday’s live version (1959) below, and definitely listen to Simone’s version if you’ve never heard it before:

June 27: Alice Coltrane, “Om Shanti” (1987) et al. 

Alice Coltrane is often overshadowed by the work of her husband John Coltrane, but she is a formidable force in creative and cosmic music in her own right. From her early recordings with Terry Gibbs and John Coltrane, to her solo work starting with A Monastic Trio (1968), and to her later devotional music, Alice Coltrane embarked on a deep journey into music as a kind of universal consciousness. She was driven by an immovable belief in the healing power of sound. Her fourth solo album, Journey in Satchidananda (1971) reflects her spiritual journey and the influence of Swami Satchidananda of whom she was a disciple at the time. For Alice Coltrane, music was a spiritual language and therefore a political force for love and change (although some statements by the Coltranes were more politically direct such as their 1966 track “Reverend King”). We hear this love manifested in her excellent arrangement of Coltrane’s “Love Supreme” on World Galaxy, which features her on organ and harp, as well as the intonations of Swami Satchidananda; in addition, “Om Supreme,” from Eternity (1975), is also worth a close listen. Although lesser known in Coltrane’s oeuvre, her later devotional works (under her adopted name Turiyasangitananda—meaning roughly the Lord’s highest song of Bliss) from the 1980s and ‘90s recorded at her Shanti Anantam Ashram in North California are phenomenal. Her posthumously released compilation The Ecstatic Music Of Alice Coltrane Turiyasangitananda (2017) features her voice for the first time on a number of tracks, most notably on “Om Shanti” (originally from 1987): a mantra that is an invocation of peace. In “Om Shanti,” her lone voice is gradually joined by other signers and percussion as the chant rises upwards. It is both humbling and inspiring to listen to and study her music and her dedication to love and peace. Alice Coltrane left the planet over 13 years ago, but the current political and social climate of 2020 needs her meditative and healing music more than ever. As cliché as it sounds, it is imperative that we all take time to look inward and genuinely bring more love into the world. 

June 28: Bob Marley, “Redemption Song” (1980) 

“Redemption Song” is the final track on Bob Marley and The Wailers’ Uprising and it was inspired in part by Pan-Africanist Marcus Garvey’s 1937 speech in Nova Scotia about African redemption, “The Work That Has Been Done.” In particular, the song riffs on Garvey’s words, “Emancipate yourself from mental slavery … None but ourselves can free our minds.” Much of the work for real change needs to come from within, and it is not too late for us, and the world even, to find redemption, freedom, and emancipation. Official Video below:

June 29: Oscar Peterson, “Hymn to Freedom” (1962)

Fraternity crosses borders, which is why a Black Montreal-based musician like Oscar Peterson was able to conceive of “Hymn to Freedom,” which drew on the energy of the Black church and was sung in various places in the States as an anthem to the Civil Rights Movement. Peterson managed to capture a pivotal moment of radical change, as we continue along the road towards true freedom and equality for all.  

June 30: Sam Cooke, “A Change is Gonna Come” (1964)

Sam Cooke’s “A Change is Gonna Come” is one of the most emblematic songs of the Civil Rights Movement and so it is appropriate that it is the final song I am posting about for this playlist. The song was inspired by various events in Cooke’s life, particularly the time he and his group were turned away at a whites-only motel in Louisiana. Building on the energy of the Civil Rights Movement, as well as his own shame for having not written something like it earlier (he was moved by Bob Dylan’s “Blowin’ in the Wind”), he decided to write and record the song. Later that year change did come in the US with the Civil Rights Act of 1964, and then the following year with the Voting Rights Act of 1965. The last segregated schools didn’t close until 1983 in Canada (see the 1977 Canadian Human Rights Act) and the last residential school didn’t close until 1996. Despite these changes, the US and Canada are still very much anti-Black and anti-Indigenous spaces and there are massive inequities in both countries. The work is far from done, but for any of us who work on anti-racism and believe in a truly Just Society, we must hold hope that a change is still gonna come. We must act now. In that spirit, I end with one of my favourite quotations from Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.:

“We are now faced with the fact that tomorrow is today. We are confronted with the fierce urgency of now. In this unfolding conundrum of life and history, there “is” such a thing as being too late. This is no time for apathy or complacency. This is a time for vigorous and positive action” (Where Do We Go from Here, 1967).

I’ve added a number of other songs to the playlist and will continue to do so, but please feel free to leave a comment with any glaring omissions that you see, and I can likely add them! 

Sound Meditation during COVID-19

Take a moment to stop and listen. Inspired by some similar sound meditations, I wanted to create my own. This was created in a single take.

And this is a remix and meditative version of my song, “I am Om.” Like the original, this version—entitled “All Life is Interrelated (Meditation for Peace)”—is about finding inner and outer peace in a world that often feels disconnected and sick. The vocal clips are from Alice Coltrane, Pharoah Sanders (from Coltrane’s Om), the Dalai Lama, Louis Armstrong, and MLK. I played this version live in a single take using an MPC Live (for the singing bowls and bells), an SP-404SX to remix the vocal clips, an iPad running Xynthesizr, and a KORG volca fm for ambient chords. Give yourself 4 minutes to stop and listen. I filmed the video while out with the kids for a walk at the Colliery Dams in Nanaimo, B.C.

Intercultural Hip Hop Panel w/ Tonye, Waahli & DJ All Good

Thursday, November 7, 2019, at 4:30 pm – 6 pm
Vancouver Island University, Nanaimo: B200/ R203

Come check out this amazing Intercultural Hip Hop panel that I am moderating on Thursday, November 7th, as part of VIU’s 3rd annual Intercultural Hip Hop Forum.

The panel is centred on the theme of “Telling Your Story,” and I will ask this diverse panel of hip hop artists to speak about their personal journeys in finding their voice through hip hop, as well as how their art connects with culture, community, and personal identity.

Everyone is welcome to this free event!

It features three remarkable artists:

Waahli was born and raised in Montreal by a Haitian family. He is a member of the city’s multicultural hip hop super group Nomadic Massive. He is revered as a trilingual emcee (English, French, Creole), guitarist and beat maker. He released his first solo album Black Soap in 2018. In addition to music Waahli is known for his community work as a facilitator and paralegal for a youth empowerment organization. He is also an organic soap maker.

Tonye Aganaba a.k.a Magic T was born in England to Nigerian and Zimbabwean parents. Northern BC and later Vancouver have been home for them since the age of 13. They are a well known fixture in the Vancouver music scene as a powerhouse vocalist and emcee. Tonye’s style, like their gender, is nonbinary through Hip Hop, R&B, Neo-Folk and Soul. They perform solo and part of several groups including The Red Gold & Green Machine, The Funk Hunters and BC World Music Collective. Their new album Something Comfortable is an “intentional and devotional endeavor” inspired by their battle with Multiple Sclerosis.

DJ All Good is Vancouver Island’s premier turntablist. Born in New Zealand and raised in Nanaimo’s  Harewood neighbourhood DJ All Good has been rockin’ parties and festivals in the region for almost two decades. His advanced skills earned him the title of Western Canada DMC Champion in 2015 and his “Turntemple” mobile DJ classroom has gained much praise as an innovative tool for youth empowerment.

For a complete list of events, please visit the WorldVIU Days website, here