Dear Miguel...

This is what happens when an artist tries too hard... feeling himself, ego-filled, creating a forgettable moment of buzz - based on raw hilarity, that may eventually lead to a law suit.



This is what happens when an artist (albeit a few flaws) is just an artist... feeling the music, ego-free, creating a memorable moment in history - based on raw talent, that may eventually lead to generations of inspiration.



No one will care about this incident of yours in approximately 7 minutes. We are as you know, a generation *that* fickle.

But on a serious note Mr. Miguel, your talents aren't requiring of this much... effort? This much 'mmph' you tend to put on stage. It's just not necessary, and should come more naturally. If it doesn't, leave it alone.

Your vocals, just your vocals, are enough to hold a stellar performance.

Getting caught up is one thing. Trying too hard... that's another thing. A whole other, thing.

With real love.

Rudimental.

A quartet set of producers. All under 30. All fantasically fusing their musical tastes into one live act of #unabletolabel sound, so very definitively London...

A favorite example:



You see, real creativity's hard to define. Real observation - of creativity - can be irksome to strucure.  So, as per the usual, one shall not bother going into any kind of pigeon hole breakdowns. Any kind of typically laid out interview set-ups. Nah. Never here. Just how it was. How it is... How it should be:

I first hear of Rudimental through the dearest of friends, Atlantic's star - and Zimbabwe queen - Taponeswa Mavunga. Living a life outside of a suitcase and never staying in any given country for more then 3 weeks, as well as the fact that new age music (generally) tends to be a waste of my hearing space, I'm not one to pay attention to what is self-allegedly and commercially forced as "new". Unless I'm  trustfully recommended to.

And so, the Rudimental research began. 3 things immediately strike me:

1. The look. Apart from your average Asian, and maybe an unidentified alien, these 4 individuals encapsulate every human criteria going. A finely crafted cultural melting pot, beautifully and organically put together. A very natural result of inner city London living. Hackney, more precisely.

2. The visuals. Each music video's like a short and very telling film. Superbly thought out, built and executed.  Profound messaging, subtly presented...powerfully. Humble, in its artistically provocative tone.

Another favorite example:

3. (Obviously) The music. Like their look, it's about as diverse as Joseph's dreamcoat. Raggae, hip hop, jungle, drum & base, garage, grime, disco, funk, jazz... it is all there, and everywhere. And here comes along an argument I presented recently (twitter, regularly) on inspiration vs. copy/paste. The primary difference lies in one word: CREATE.

MNEK, Rozan & Rudimental's Amir

And my (oh my) have Rudimental created. 

It's hard not to really, considering their drowing pool of surrounding talent. Amir, the quartet's pillar (as it would appear) speaks of their background working with London's inner city youth, drenching themselves in community studios and slowly (but so surely) building musical foundations with talented young folk every chance they managed.

Which, convenitently, brings me to their show...

"Feel the love..."

"East side ready..."

A [FREEZING] Friday night. Accompanied by fellow music connoisseur, the ever dynamic (and recent awe of London Fashion Week) Fahad Al Saud. Onto Shoreditch we go, the British capital's hot spot for live music and all sorts of 'pre-hegemonised' cool. In to the Village Underground we enter, an intimately simple venue quite ideal for the evening's affair.

As a born and bred "Lady of London", I couldn't help but nostagically familiarise with everything. Every sound. Every era. Every musical legacy that has inarguably shaped my arts dependent existence.  It was seamless. Rudimental's ability to honor so much, so easily.

Fahad Al Saud & MNEK

Suggestion: They should, in addition to the musical flair, consider A&R positions. With their diamond selection of singing sensations. All found during the afore-mentioned process of community focused empowerment through a love for making music. Particularly taken, I was and increasingly am, with this child prodigy otherwise known as MNEK. Hit the pink link for more on this disco induced, Jimmy Jam & Terry Lewis, 80's, 90's, current and future laced, writing, singing and producing, smooth like Luther old soul sounding chap of Nigerian descent. PS. He's 18 years old. In short, I'm excited for him. Very. 

Faith in our ability to create and continue, despite the 'finance first' temptations, lame justifications, and morbid distractions... once again, loved and felt. 

PPS. This. Live. Glastonbury. Yes. And YES. 

What is creativity?

This video...



And this video...



Are quite alike. Aren't they...

PS. Jamelia's in the studio. New music, en route.

New Prince.

New song.

New band (all women).



I'm your driver. You're my screw.

Third eye referencing.

Control and view.

As he's advised, listen to the sound.

What a brilliant living legend, he is.

2013.

Friends... adorn in your light. Let it be bright.

Brilliance.

It happens, once in a while. Like now.



Her name is Delilah. And she's a Londoner. #HeartSmile.

Old skool blast.

They say in heaven...

This song comes to mind.

Congo.

If this doesn't kick off your Sunday most excellently, I can't do anything for you.

Love is overdue.

First, we've got to create...

The mood.

Just, saying.

Music.

Everything about this...everything...pure love.

Estelle. In Dubai.

Yep. T'is true. The formidable female force, in music, fashion, and all things internationally serious is making her way to Dubai. This, very, weekend. Ahlan can tell you where on the pink link...

Personally, we're rather psyched to see some of these gems play out on the live level. Beach side. In the glossy emirates. Isn't life lovely.

Oh Gosh.

Tinie Tempah. Wretch 32. Kano. Little Labs. Busta Rhymes. The remix.

Like a sigh of R&b relief, it's SWV.

They're back.

The Column: February 2012. That LA love.

Dahlings. I greet you from Los Angeles. Home of Hollywood. Lights. Celebrities. E! Entertainment. And dogs. So many dogs.

My previous visits were manically brief, two days here, three days there. Never got the chance to really "be" in LA. Until now. Ten days in, and I can safely say there's something quite eerie about this place. I know. Sounds crazy compared to the giant glamazon so forcibly projected across our TV screens.

But, those who regularly read this column already know, I'm not one to deliver the expected. So here's a more realistic breakdown: People seem to be closer to furry creatures, than other people. There's a lot of unjustified anxiety. Loneliness. Mistrust. Morbid material obsession. Far too many failed relationships and/or single folk. A strange sense of misdirection. Talent everywhere, so many of them, so lost. Caught up in dreams that have somehow morphed into nightmares. A Hollywood haven clearly run by few (so few), while everyone else is trying to "make it". With that, comes a lot of sad stories. Especially from waiters — when all you want to do is order some food — which can irritate, a little bit.

First class crackheads stood outside of 5-star hotels. Homeless people, sleeping on these star-studded boulevards. That's the majority perspective for you. It's sad. Just think our fellow humans over in Washington need to focus a little more on the obviously tragic internal issues. Little less time judging everyone else. Maybe.

For the few and fortunate among us, there are some fabulous shopping options! Not as eclectic as London mind, but cool all the same. I'm staying in West Hollywood, and Fairfax, Melrose and Robertson are all your best bets for scouring. Another plus in La La Land is the ample space available for really quite scenic walking. Spa services at your indulgence, and just a general lean toward a healthier way of life.

I call it my..."blanket jacket" :)

The weather's disobediently cold at the moment — so unlike the "sunny LA" sell. SO. I thank God for Q14, and the life-saving, stunning and super convenient bisht I've been wearing for both comfort and "please keep me warm" purposes (see above). The custom made robe/jacket/abaya/ as you wish to call it, has been a bit of a show-stopper, with many asking where, what and how. Its vibrant tribal prints, arabesque flair and impressive detailing hails from Kuwait. Since style seems to be some kind of inborn gift over there, that comes as no surprise.

Restaurant culture plays a massive role in LA lifestyle, which makes obvious sense considering nightlife comes to a strict two-am ending. Unfortunately though, the food isn't that great. If you're a fan of flavour (you know, actually seasoning what you eat) then do as I did and stick to Katsuya, Koi, Phillipe Chow, Bossa Nova and a Thai local in West Hollywood which has the best peanut sauce I believe I've ever had. Forget the name. Tweet @iambougi if you really want to know. For the vegan types (not that I'm a vegetarian, but I do defer from meat when possible), there's Veggie Grill, and Real Food Daily. Both cheap, cheerful and wholesome.

Onto what you're already very familiar with (drums please)... the glamour. Yes honeys. There's been plenty of that too. On arriving it was straight to Beverly Hills' Montage hotel for the Cinema For Peace event in honour of Sean Penn's work in Haiti. Mohammed Al Turki, Saudi film producer, passionate philanthropist and Hollywood newcomer was co-chair of the beautiful gala, which saw guests such as Julia Roberts, George Clooney ans Demi Moore join us to raise over $5 million for the people of Haiti. Thumbs up, all round.

Mo, Kim and Carly, as we dine...

Mohammed Al Turki hits the red carpet.

Then there was the Golden Globes, and personally, I was SO proud of Mohammed Al Turki, friend, family, philanthropist, super duper film producer, aaand...his first time walk down the Globes' red carpet. Indeed, hard work does pay off.

After parties were all over Hollywood. We went to what has become my "LA local", Bar Marmont, followed by Soho house, which by the way, looks exactly like London's. I mean, down to the reception couch...? Anyhoo, few days later saw Sundance. I didn't go (snow and I hate each other), but Monsieur Mohammed's latest project, 'Arbitrage', received raving reviews - internationally. The movie stars Richard Gere, Susan Sarandon, and hotly tipped newcomer, Nate Parker. I think that alone, says enough.

More celebrations came in the form of birthdays too, with the formidable female force, long time sister and continuous hit maker, Estelle. Kicking in 2012 with a series of wonderfully intimate soirees, good times, great shows, and plenty positivity. Be sure to pick up her *highly* anticipated new LP, 'All of Me'. In stores 28 February 2012. And if you haven't seen the video to her latest (and greatest) single 'Thank you', I suggest you stay here for a little longer and watch...this.

Anthem. Classic. Evoking. Everything. Thank you.

Keep Smiling.

This past Sunday, in the absolute glory of God, we said our goodbyes to another legend. A primary role in the soundtrack to my youth. A voice. The voice, that touched multiple generations.

There's a lot around Whitney Houston's death (like many of the greats who've perished before her) that's actually, and significantly, odd.

For one, everybody knows now that Whitney's lifeless body was still in the Beverly Hilton, the same hotel where Clive Davis decided - despite her untimely death (?) on the same day (??) in the same place (???) - to continue hosting his annual pre-Grammy gala. Who knows the reasons behind his decision, but on every possible level, it has to be a bit weird...right? And why is there still no coroner's report?

Chaka Khan, Larry King and this blog can't be the only public figures open enough to contemplate - and ask - these questions, publicly?

Maybe the attending guests weren't aware that her body lay a few floors above them, I didn't. Until halfway through, and when I did, I was immediately taken aback, unable to sit comfortably, continued to take random walks in and out of the venue, contemplating why I was there in the first place. Was I too guilty of this obvious hypocrisy? Is it really even possible to try and turn this moment into one of celebrating her? How can anyone say Whitney would've "wanted this"? This is clearly, and disrespectfully, far too soon.

Then all of a sudden, the televised outpouring of love - after she dies. The exact same media establishments that openly dogged this unspeakably gifted woman, all now wreathing in guilt. Placing her highly by giving her the legendary status she actually deserved when she was alive.

These fans, who "love" her, conveniently catapulting her in their memoirs...when 5 minutes ago they mocked her sad state of drug-induced demise. Ridiculed her obvious cry for help. Why are we doing this, again.

Then there's those who never really said anything about Whitney. Too busy spending their expressive energies on new age "talent" that completely don't deserve it. But in order to fit in with whatever state of 'norm' this is...it was only right...

Wrong. How many gifted souls must we lose (and we've lost a lot lately) for us to realise that this nonchalant path of above water appreciation, this "I'd rather focus on nothing but me and/or getting money without giving a care to anyone else", this forced focus on the creatively irrelevant...is basically, a dangerously, pointlessly, unfulfilling road to madness.

The message. The talent. The simplicity. 

True inspiration is the work of God through chosen spirits. Special individuals who carry an innate sense of compassion, an inexplicable grace, an almost tortured form of genius because, despite a clear need to reach out and love, they are forced to close back into themselves...

Inspiration defines a helpless ability to always marvel. That's talent. How about we celebrate, and respect, just that. Let's hail, help, love and expand their light, especially when they're alive.

Forget any kind of nonsense blocking this righteous view.

Kim Burrell. Those variations. Not of this planet. 

If anything is to be gained from Whitney's tragic passing, it was her ability to touch millions beyond life. Her funeral brought soul culture more positive mainstream coverage than anything I've seen in years. Piers Morgan was hit so hard by the original spirit of real music that his face cheeks looked positively red, and swollen. It was as if Whitney brought us all together, under one holy roof of divine power, artistic beauty and a spiritually uplifting unification...with the help of God of course - and twitter.

"Don't grieve for me, for now I'm free...God wanted me now, he set me free"

Pray for Bobbi Kristina please. In the words of Mr. Middle East Futurist, Fahad Al Saud, let's show our love for Whitney through supporting the love of her life. 

MIA.

She nailed it. Again.

This time, channeling Saudi culture, MIA touches base with a past time among most bored teenagers of the Arabian desert. Everything in this video is very real, and its because of MIA's on point ability to resonate and represent everything about the planet, that she's just...I can't. It's too right.

It's gonna take this girl a little longer than your average Gaga to plastically engage the commercial globe, but when she reaches that point, she'll last a lot longer.



MIA is a quintessential world artist. Not the best singer. I don't believe that's her point. It is clear that she's cleverly and creatively harnessing everything attractive about the "West", to unabashedly shed more light, on everything else.

More power to her.

You're everywhere I go. Thinking that you know.

OK. This fly and futuristic hot as hell female is back. Santigold. If you're unaware. Become aware. 

It's quite obvious the horrible likes of "Gaga" (and other shams in this rather embarrassing music business) have taken a liking to Santigold in the past. Copied her. At times. Badly. 

All wishful attempts, you see. Almost impossible to equal the levels of straight bad ass.