And In Arts News
In juvenile detention, she would write “really radical raps” that rattled her supervisors.
Why, yes, I am reading the Guardian. Where the paper’s Janine Israel is positively gushing over aboriginal rapper Barkaa and her “politically potent” music.
The Malyangapa Barkindji woman… is on the verge of releasing her debut EP, Blak Matriarchy,
You know you want to.
Based in south-west Sydney, Barkaa takes her moniker from the Barkindji word for the Darling River. She comes across as warm and humble,
Warm and humble. An interesting choice of words. And followed almost immediately by:
Earlier this year she played the Sydney Opera House forecourt, the lights of the harbour stretched out before her as she performed her song Bow Down: “They used to look down on me / Look who’s looking up now. Bow down.”
Regarding said ditty, our mistress of the surly pose and monotonous loop informs us,
Bow Down is one of my favourite tracks to perform because a lot of people growing up [were like]: ‘Oh you’re not going to be much, you’re just going to be a lowlife, you’re just going to be a junkie, you’re not going to get anywhere, you’re just going to be in and out of prison.’ It’s kind of like: middle fingers up to them.
Same article, seconds earlier:
Born Chloe Quayle, the 26-year-old rapper was a former teenage ice addict who did three stints in jail – during her last, five years ago, she gave birth to her third child.
Despite three children, no father, or fathers, are mentioned. Well. Perhaps we should move on.
Being “unapologetically truthful and unapologetically Blak,” Ms Barkaa’s other contributions to human betterment include claims of “trauma” from being “colonised”; endless middle-fingering; and For My Tittas, in which the musicianship and wordsmithery are, like, totally next-level, dude:
Embrace your black skin
And your race within
You’re blessed by your blackness
And your dark-skinned kin
Raise strong black kids
Throw those drugs in the bin
And you’ll be bound to make
Your old people look at you and grin
It’s potent, world-rattling stuff. No wonder the Guardian is all a-gush.
Update, via the comments:
Jen notes that the Guardian’s comment section is heavily “pre-moderated,” presumably to ensure a unanimity of approval. As of the time of writing, some 62 hours in, only 8 readers have managed to penetrate the paper’s famed moderation, all scrupulously enthusiastic and very much on-message:
Strong, powerful, Earth Mother, Kali, survivor, loving mama, we hear your voice.
For instance.
In the comments, Daniel adds,
The irony – that absolutely no one would have ever heard of Ms Quayle had Ebil Yte music producers not picked her up out of whatever the Australian equivalent of the gutter is, packaged her for consumption by Ebil Yte Australian teenagers, and financed her distribution channels to Ebil Yte music stores and venues – does not go unnoticed.
I was poking through Ms Quayle’s YouTube videos, a joyless task, and couldn’t help noticing just how often approving comments would begin with some variation of “As a white…” It seems our Lady Of Limited Talents, to whom harmony and key changes, even simple rhythmic variation, are things of infinite mystery, is being marketed, with some success, to racially neurotic lefties.
And so, the Guardian’s Ms Israel somehow fails to register the details touched on above, or is at least careful not to acknowledge them, busying herself instead with airy waffle about artistic and political potency. Apparently, it takes near-superhuman talent to loop the same four bars of someone else’s music over and over again. Indeed, in terms of appeal, the music, such as it is, seems secondary, rather notional. What’s prompting the gushing appears to be the pigment and the pose. The idea of a jabbering aboriginal woman and her “really radical raps.”
What that says about enthusiasts, I leave to the reader.
our mistress of the surly pose and monotonous loop
Lol. That.
“Comments on this piece are pre-moderated to ensure discussion remains on topics raised by the writer”
“Comments on this piece are pre-moderated to ensure discussion remains on topics raised by the writer.”
As of five minutes ago, and sixteen hours in, only three people had managed to penetrate the paper’s famed moderation. All scrupulously enthusiastic and very much on-message, of course.
I got issues
Yep.
a lot of people growing up [were like]: ‘Oh you’re not going to be much, you’re just going to be a lowlife, you’re just going to be a junkie, you’re not going to get anywhere, you’re just going to be in and out of prison.’ […]
the 26-year-old rapper was a former teenage ice addict who did three stints in jail – during her last, five years ago, she gave birth to her third child.
Major self-awareness fail.
Well, at least David breached the Guardian paywall for us to bring us the radical illiteracy that signals how oppressed “Blak” people are. And I am grateful for that.
Major self-awareness fail.
Yes, but now she raps, albeit not particularly well, about her string of awful boyfriends and being a single mother of three fatherless children. So everything is fine. That’ll show ‘em.
And I am grateful for that.
I’m positively heroic.
Major self-awareness fail.
What’s interesting is how the Guardian’s Ms Israel didn’t seem to register such details, or at least was careful not to acknowledge them, busying herself instead with much gushing about artistic and political potency. Apparently, it takes near-superhuman talent to loop the same four bloody bars of someone else’s music over and over again.
There’s a gold mine of inspiration out there, in remote Aboriginal communities, for the aspiring rapper. Dysfunction writ large by way of assorted impediments to a better life. . Child abuse, rape, alcohol fuelled violence especially against women, drugs, homicides, pornography, indifference to education. With guaranteed welfare, work is best avoided. Barkaa might care to pen a few lines
And it takes near-superhuman talent to say “I got issues” too.
Not entirely unrelated.
And also.
And of course this.
Oh dear Lord. My YouTube recommendations are now filling up with identikit rap videos.
#FeelMyPain
And of course this
Completely off topic but something that perhaps I’ve misunderstood for my entire life…in an aside comment there you said “They keep down the beetles.”. In UK lingo, might the word ‘beetle’ be synonymous with ‘cockroach’? Because that…well…hmmm….
I’m positively heroic.
Kindly specify to which intersectional attribute(s) you wish to associate your heroism. I.E. Are you a heroic Trans, a heroic Gay, a heroic Nero-atypical plus-sized GenderFluid Domme, etc.
There’s no such thing as a heroic person anymore. Heck, there’s no such thing as person. It’s all groups, nowadays.
Choose your fighter.
“They keep down the beetles.”
That was a typo. It should have been Beatles. [ spoken in Oxbridge voice so you know it’s true ]
Heck, there’s no such thing as person. It’s all groups, nowadays.
He is large, he contains multitudes.
Not entirely unrelated.
Also not entirely unrelated, another autotuner with issues has thoughts, and I use the term loosely.
Nero-atypical
[ Consults history of Rome ]
The Left loves the primitive and will happily take us into anarchy and chaos all the while gushing about how “brave” and “authentic” it is. For example, riots in 2020 that the media pretended were not riots.
If you have been an addict and had 3 children out of wedlock and been in jail, that is not “oppression”–that is choices. White people go down that path of self-destruction too.
Anything this girl knows about aboriginal life is imaginary.
another autotuner with issues has thoughts
Date an alien? I’ve met people who claimed to be aliens.
He is large, he contains multitudes.
I am, rumour has it, legion.
Still only four comments have been allowed. ‘Lives and struggles of marginalised people’, ‘indigenous’, ‘female’, blahblahblah…
I am, rumour has it, legion
Oh, you’re that David.
‘Lives and struggles of marginalised people’
I’m guessing we’re supposed to believe that Ms Quayle – sorry, Barkaa – only ended up in prison, three times, and impregnated by trashy men, three times, and addled on crystal meth, because of the doings of Evil Whitey. She having no agency of her own and no responsibility. Much as we’re supposed to applaud an obnoxious, barely literate musician who gives us the finger in every bloody video, and to whom harmony and key changes, even simple rhythmic variation, are things of infinite mystery.
Much as we’re supposed to applaud an obnoxious, barely literate musician
Much like the CanCon regulations, the irony that absolutely no one would have ever heard of Ms. Quayle had Ebil Yte music producers not picked her up out of whatever the Australian equivalent of the gutter is, packaged her for consumption by Ebil Yte Australian teenagers, and financed her distribution channels to Ebil Yte music stores and venues does not go unnoticed.
the irony that absolutely no one would have ever heard of Ms. Quayle had Ebil Yte music producers not picked her up out of whatever the Australian equivalent of the gutter is, packaged her for consumption by Ebil Yte Australian teenagers,
I was poking through Ms Quayle’s YouTube videos, a joyless task, and couldn’t help noticing just how often approving comments would begin with some variation of “As a white…” It seems our Lady Of Limited Talents is being marketed, with some success, to racially neurotic lefties.
I was poking through Ms Quayle’s YouTube videos, a joyless task
[ Slides packet of chocolate biscuits across the bar ]
“Why, yes, I am reading the Guardian.”
It isn’t compulsory. Yet.
“Raise strong black kids
Throw those drugs in the bin
And you’ll be bound to make
Your old people look at you and grin“
Not entirely objectionable sentiments, to be fair (although one wonders what precisely is meant by “strong”, given their source). But it’s hardly Cole Porter, is it?
Not entirely unrelated.
Behold the majesty of this aboriginal telescope:
I am, rumour has it, legion
Somewhere recently I saw a blogger state “I am a river for my people”. Shame that one is taken.
About those “radical raps,” our hero “describes [her musical alter ego] Barkaa as ‘an outlet to express my anger’.”
Get it? The world is her stage, and if her disturbing psychological issues pushes more poison into our culture, than that must be a good thing.
Is rap anything more than incitement with a backbeat?
“I am a river for my people”
Lawrence of Arabia: “The Turks pay me a golden treasure, yet I am poor! Because I am a river to my people!”
Truly this blog is a river of knowledge and wisdom. And hump fat.
Is rap anything more than incitement with a backbeat?
It can be.
“Why, yes, I am reading the Guardian.”
It isn’t compulsory. Yet.
I don’t know. It can be a fun read if one pretends to be reading the Babylon Bee.
It occurred to me not too long ago that both Liz Brady and Gilbert Bécaud dabbled with a kind of proto-rap.
If you see what I mean.
Behold the majesty of this aboriginal telescope:
Well, considering their aircraft and likely their spacecraft are made from similar materials and share similar functionality, I’d pronounce their telescope to be most efficacious*. Chariots of the Gods and all that.
*I’m still unpacking from my September move and came across an old “Word of the Day” calendar. It was opened to efficacious. So I get bonus points for using it in a sentence today.
Is rap anything more than incitement with a backbeat?
It can be.
I like this series of videos.
If white people hold on to their ancient primitive heritage by acting as druids, we roll our eyes. Culture is linked to a way of life. To hold on to that culture when one no longer wears deerskin, hunts with a bow, and grinds corn with a stone is simply pretentious. There has been nothing stopping indians (in US) from joining the modern world. They are no longer forced to stay on the reservation. They can attend school. Same with aus aborig. And all this “marginalized” stuff–what does it even mean? My persian immigrant friends are a tiny minority here but they are not angry or “marginalized”.
Despite three children, no father, or fathers, are mentioned.
And her own father (Mr Quayle?) isn’t mentioned, his race or his involvement in her life. Her mother is said to be part of the Stolen Generations. What’s the likely background here?
From her photo she looks quite Aboriginal (full? half?), which isn’t obvious, given that we’ve seen so many stories about “the first Aboriginal to ___”, where it’s a European in the photo, one of whose great great great grandmothers is supposedly more important than the 15 others put together.
Chloe was born around 1995, so say her mother was born between 1955 and 1975. In what kinds of circumstances would her mother have been taken away from her parents? Born out of wedlock? Mixed race? Abuse at home?
And if the mother grew up (say) in a children’s home in a Sydney suburb, and contact was lost with the rest of the family, I’m sorry, the cultural chain is broken, and Barkaa (who was Chloe Quayle until last year) has no more of a connection to Aboriginal culture than Kylie Minogue does. But Guardian readers who are skeptical about Manx language revivalists and lederhosen folk dancing enthusiasts can be very credulous about the ethnic kitsch of non-whites.
And if it’s not the ethnic fusion Aboriginal hip hop that’s so culturally significant, if it’s the race and ancestry of the performer that are so important, that’s fine. Race and ancestry are an important part of diversity and should be preserved. A child shouldn’t be disconnected from, or made to feel ashamed of, its ancestry. Social engineering so that the historical population’s genes are washed out by successive generations of miscegenation with numerically dominant newcomers, that’s a kind of genocide. Noted, and it’s a principle that can be applied to “there’s no such thing as white people” and to the social engineering of mass immigration into white countries.
“Why, yes, I am reading the Guardian.”
And speaking of the Grauniad, I thought I was reading from its pages when I came across this headline today:
Alas, it was only Slate’s sex advice column. The advice is almost as funny as the question. The intrepid reporters insist
Yes, because there’s a relationship that screams integrity and demands preserving.
Sexual racism
That’s only the second time I’ve seen that combination of words. The first time a couple of weeks ago, lesbians refusing sex with MtFs were accused of being sexual racists. In what direction was that metaphor tending: whites refusing social intercourse with non-whites is racism, therefore lesbians refusing sexual intercourse with non-women is a kind of racism too.
And among the speculation on right wing blogs about what’s next after World War T, some commenters think that it’ll involve socially shaming white women who don’t want to have sex with non-whites. But of course non-white men wanting to have sex with unwilling white women is a Trope, and anyone who believes in the Trope is really hiding an interracial cuckold fetish, so we can discard that speculation.
It’s not about white men, who on the whole don’t find black women to be sexually attractive, and whose sexual interest in Asian women isn’t seen as proof of open-mindedness but as exploitation and exoticism and yellow fever. Anything white men do is and will continue to be Problematic.
But if “sexual racism” is a thing now, how far behind are “sexual justice” and “sexual equity”? Titillating concepts, if you’re a rapist.
And the quoted reasoning is edging towards Problematizing Consent – nobody is questioning your right to consent BUT if you’re not sleeping with the right race we can socially shame and pressure you, especially if you’re a woman who’s more conformist and sensitive to social shaming. Besides, if there’s a Power Differential, isn’t consent really a form of discrimination?
he’s choosing only white women: ‘Sexual racism'”
He’s a racist regardless of what he does:
If he does not choose black women, that’s racism.
If he does choose black women, that’s exploitation and jungle fever, and thus is racist.
therefore lesbians refusing sexual intercourse with non-women is a kind of racism too
Pity the poor radical lesbian separatists. 😉
Titillating concepts, if you’re a rapist.
I believe David has already covered the gays and trans “women” who denounce men who won’t have sex with them.
Self-warming bolster pillows. Futon torpedo meets photon torpedo.
Zou’s right, and I can take that further. The Isle of Man is a small place, and I know enough about its history to state that members of the Quayle family were not amongst early white Australian settlers, convicts or bonded workers, and incidentally historically not linked to the slave trade either In fact, Quayles didn’t really move to Australia until the 1960’s, when work started getting scarce on IOM. So Chloe Quayle appears to be descended on the father’s side from a white ‘whingeing pom’. Also, Chloe is a popular name amongst Manx folk and language revivalists, suggesting the Manx cultural influence in her background and upbringing is…well…let’s just say far stronger than any Aboriginal one.
Why Modern Movies Suck – They’re Destroying Our Heroes
Why Modern Movies Suck – They’re Destroying Our Heroes
So I take it we’ve given up on that whole ‘Find Sarah Connor’ thing, eh? Pity.
“It can be.”
I’m still rather partial to this. (Around 1:10 and 2:50-ish.) And who can forget the first rap to hit the charts? After 40 years (yikes!) I still haven’t the faintest idea what she’s on about, but I’m fairly sure it’s not poppin’ caps in n****s’ asses.
The resulting music is utterly trivial and devoid of any brilliance.
It is perhaps suitable for the accompaniment of dancing monkeys, jugglers, mountebanks,
swallowers of swords and snakes in public squares and at dirty street corners.
It can be.
That is rather charming. For added kitty and what I’m given to understand is a comely young female woman of the opposite sex there’s a video.
And who can forget the first rap to hit the charts?
I preferred this one.
Why Do White People Exist ????
Also this.
The Guardian’s comment section is heating up.
Strong, powerful, Earth Mother, Kali, survivor, loving mama, we hear your voice.
Kinky.
Kinky.
Well, indeed. And not, I think, a trivial inference. Much of the gushing does seem to be premised on some rather strange assumptions of, shall we say, magic brownness. As we’ve seen many times, among pale lefties, it is quite common.
[M]agic brownness.
And I am curious (yellow). I am surprised Hollywood hasn’t thought about doing that movie as a remake.
It occurred to me not too long ago that both Liz Brady and Gilbert Bécaud dabbled with a kind of proto-rap.
Edith Sitwell, arguably progenitrix of this abomination, can be heard spitting some wicked bars here. The much-missed Kit & The Widow did a brilliant parody (as all theirs are) of this, but sadly I can’t find it to share.
The oldest example of rap-ish stuff I know is by the Brazilian singer Jair Rodrigues from 1964. However, this is likely disqualified from consideration as it is evidently musical with a nice tune and The Worst Word Evah! is not even hinted at.
This, from the same country that gave us Nick Cave.
The oldest example of rap-ish stuff I know is by the Brazilian singer Jair Rodrigues from 1964.
1879, Gilbert & Sullivan “I Am the Very Model of a Modern Major-General”, and one could make an argument for some of Louis Jordan’s stuff, but as you say, it is actually musical and no splitting of wigs with a nine, hos, or fat stacks.
Speaking of Australian aborigines, I know my fellow Thompsonites will be mourning the death of the renowned terpsichorean, cultural icon and titan of Australian cinema (well, some of us might remember him wandering around the desert déshabillé in the film Walkabout) David Gulpilil. We are instructed by The Guardian not to use the name by which he is widely (?) known, so as to not to contravene Yolngu customary law and if there’s one thing you don’t want to do, it’s that. Especially of a Tuesday. Please update your … accordingly.
cultural icon and titan of Australian cinema
Wife and I recently (re)watched Walkabout. I was certain we had seen it 30 years ago when VCRs were a thing. She insisted we hadn’t. So we watched it…again. She still insists we hadn’t seen it before, which to me is about all you need to know about that. At least there was nubile, barely legal (female…amongst other) teenage nudity, for whatever reason. Plus it helped remind me that people have been idiots for quite a long time. Not sure if/how that “helps” but I suppose it could…maybe…
my fellow Thompsonites
[ Peers over spectacles. ]
“really radical raps”
A bit of a challenge for those who can’t tell their Rs from their Wubbleyous
Thompsonites
“really radical raps”
I mean, Jesus wept.
Speaking of rappers, a young lady has thoughts about their names.
Speaking of rappers, a young lady has thoughts about their names.
To quote the immortal words of Geordie La Forge, “It’s a long way down to the bottom of the warp core.”
I know my fellow Thompsonites will be mourning the death of the renowned terpsichorean, cultural icon and titan of Australian cinema
From the gushing Guardian story (yes, I know he’s dead so you have to gush), the actor critically examines his craft: “I don’t have to go and act. I just jump in and stand there and the camera sees me,” or “Acting came natural to me,” he said. “I know how to walk across the land in front of a camera, because I belong there.”
On can’t help but think if these words had been uttered by an actor of more pallor, they would have been considered simply pretentious.
if these words had been uttered by an actor of more pallor
A white actor wouldn’t even be able to say it in praise of an Aboriginal colleague. In the mouth of a white actor, the same words would be a harmful trope: the intuitive primitive who’s just a part of the landscape, and the director has to point a camera at him, and this is why it’s so difficult for Aboriginals who want to be taken seriously as Shakespeare actors and Hollywood leads.
“I am for putting all you white possums into a gas chamber and letting that mother f—ker ring, bitch.” #MAYOMONKEYSGOTTAGO
“I don’t have to go and act. I just jump in and stand there and the camera sees me,”
More likely he had the bare minimum of acting ability needed to play Wise And Noble Savage roles? His remarks sound like the sort of thing a clueless low-talent young actress might say, unaware that it is only her beauty that gets her acting roles and that the job offers will disappear when she hits 30. As one reviewer once cruelly said, “what does she have between her legs that makes her think she has any talent?” and “The only roles she plays are ‘young girl who takes off her clothes’.”
Thompsonites
Thompsonites
Well, that was just mean.
Thompsonites
Well, that was just mean.
Hold me now…
*ducks*
The best thing about that is not understanding one bit of it.
I think I’ll stick with the tried & true if it’s all the same to you.
‘Thompsonites’?
Here I was thinking it was ‘Thompson-adjacent’.
I think I’ll stick with the tried & true if it’s all the same to you.
Me too.
Hold me now…
I can get this shabby treatment at home, you know.
I can get this shabby treatment at home, you know.
Yes, but you don’t have to make us breakfast, so there’s that.
Yes, but you don’t have to make us breakfast, so there’s that.
I’d just need a few thousand extra chairs.
Hold me now…
I can get this shabby treatment at home, you know.
Hold me closer tiny dancer.
I’d just need a few thousand extra chairs.
Cooking would be easy, though.
I tried to find a Full English MRE, but was unsuccessful. Would have been even better: No cooking, David just tosses one pack to each of this scruffy lot.
Speaking of rap, another rap “artist” misbehaves, gets arrested, and immediately screams ‘racism!’. Of course.
Switching to another English cultural treasure: A scene from an adaptation of Dune by P.G. Wodehouse.
Jen notes that the Guardian’s comment section is heavily “pre-moderated,” presumably to ensure a unanimity of approval.
Comment is free. But some commenters are freer than others.
I can get this shabby treatment at home, you know.
*Starts Prometheus on tv. Leaves post haste…*
*Starts Prometheus on tv. Leaves post haste…*
[ Sends message to Bene Gesserit, requesting loan of pain box ]
“1879, Gilbert & Sullivan “I Am the Very Model of a Modern Major-General”, and one could make an argument for some of Louis Jordan’s stuff,”
The G&S “patter songs” have a tune, though. Louis Jordan’s certainly a good shout: Friendship is spoken without melody. Not especially rhythmical, though.
How about Phil Harris?
“Sends message to Bene Gesserit, requesting loan of pain box”
*unleashes Pikachu. The resulting shock turns Arrakis into an ocean planet*
Which has no effect on the UK chapter aside from annoying them.
[ Activates Terran detachment of Fremen commandos, only to learn that they began to mount up when they heard about Prometheus ]
*unleashes Pikachu. The resulting shock turns Arrakis into an ocean planet*
[ Sounds of panic from Starbucks across the street ]
“What? No more pumpkin spice?”
“What? No more pumpkin spice?”
You can’t navigate a heighliner without it.
https://youtu.be/Iu7vySQbgXI
Only the the urban hipster girly Navigators use pumpkin spice.
Not especially rhythmical, though.
GI Jive has the rhyming and slang (in this case some jive) going for it though.
If you want to get rhythmical you can go back to Slim Gaillard and the opus Dunkin’ Bagels which also has some fine vout-o-reene jive going on.
For a gospel bent, there are the Jubilaires who have rhyme and rhythm.
However, not a single capped ass among the lot of them, but then all these guys were actual musicians.
And who can forget the first rap to hit the charts
Pla ce bo,
Who is there, who?
Di le xi,
Dame Margery;
Fa, re, my, my,
Wherfore and why, why?
For the sowle of Philip Sparowe,
That was late slayn at Carowe,
Among the Nones Blake,
For that swete soules sake,
And for all sparowes soules,
Set in our bederolles,
Pater noster qui,
With an Ave Mari,
And with the corner of a Crede,
The more shalbe your mede.
Whan I remembre agayn
How mi Philyp was slayn,
Never halfe the payne
Was betwene you twayne,
Pyramus and Thesbe,
As than befell to me:
I wept and I wayled,
The tearys downe hayled;
But nothinge it avayled
To call Phylyp agayne,
Whom Gyb our cat hath slayne.
Gib, I saye, our cat,
Worrowyd her on that
Which I loved best:
It can not be exprest
My sorowfull hevynesse,
But all without redresse;
For within that stounde,
Halfe slumbrynge, in a swounde
I fell downe to the grounde. . .
“Philip Sparowe” by John Skelton, ca. 1505
The breadth of knowledge of the readers here is amazing.
How about Phil Harris?
Take me home, daddy.