MUSIC, POLITICS, ART

THE AFROFUTURIST PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE

the galvanizing presence of Erykah Badu and Outkast

By Deborah Obanla

Don't forget this image--she is the future!

By no means whatsoever is afrofuturism a new concept. It comes into prominence as early as the 1960s and has any number of offshoots over the next two decades. Tales of Sun Ra beginning his day in extravagant regalia (what some of us call clothes), playing sizzling jazz, and riding in a groovy space ship certainly isn’t particularly weird for the era. What with the civil rights movement, the Black Panthers fighting the system in Oakland, and everything else in between, I might’ve opted for an intergalactic journey, too. The idea of black people segregating themselves to another planet marks the beginning of the afrofuturist movement and it was coming on all fronts -- visual media, music, and literature with such luminaries as George Clinton, Parliament Funk, Ishmael Reed, and Octavia Butler. They were all instrumental in the forging the way, though, they would all have to wait…

As rich as the movement was, it remained underground, far away from the mainstream, and, most importantly, itself. For many years, African-American freaks were freaks alone. Afrofuturism hadn’t hit the main stage until the likes of Erykah Badu and Outkast burst on the scene in the 90s. Then all of a sudden the whole country’s on an intergalactic journey, including white grandmothers. The question is not only what happened, but also how did it finally coalesce? We take afro-futurism’s presence for granted; it’s deep in the culture now, a whole new aesthetic branch of black art that has taken over the mainstream. Look at the reception for the Black Panther trailer alone. But here’s a partial answer: it looked great.

You are a cool looking superhero, keep fighting crime with style

In the late 90s, Erykah Badu hits the stage. If we hadn’t reached the visual peak of afrofuturism yet, at least she was delivering a futuristic sound, fused from her deep connections with jazz, soul, and hip hop. She quickly became known as the queen of neo-soul (counterparts like D’Angelo also helped to create this new genre), combining scientific, philosophical, historical, Afrocentric and cosmological non-Western elements in her lyrics. Her music was a response to the continued oppression of black people and embraced soulful melodies and thoughtful lyrics. She herself was a vessel for her mystical philosophy, donning large headwraps, the ankh symbol, and ornate Egyptian-inspired jewelry.

At the same time, somewhere in Atlanta, the duo of Andre 3000 and Big Boi were working on their third album, Aquemini. Their first two albums were more of the ATL gangsta persuasion: hardcore beats with equally hardcore lyrics. But what set them apart from other rappers of the time was the evolution of their music. While other rappers had to return to the same, “authentic and gritty” gangsta rap, Andre and Big Boi were able to move freely between jazzy Southern funkadelic elements and their new futuristic, harmonic sound. Their lyrics shied away from misogyny and violence, and instead explored themes of the human condition (drug addiction, toxic relationships, internal struggles), juxtaposed with technology’s growing influence in the ATL scene and the realities of urban life.

Indeed Aquemini was an experimental album, in which the artists bridged a gap between the two worlds of gangsta rap and a spaced out poetry of the future soul. It also explored the duality of their partnership, with Big Boi navigating the player persona and Andre 3000 the poet (even “Aquemini” is a combination of their zodiac signs Aquarius and Gemini). Their sounds even played off of each other, with Big Boi covering more conventional themes in hip hop and Andre 3000 exploring more unorthodox ideas. They implemented live instruments and improvisation, even with their voices and rapping delivery. The album won great critical acclaim for its musicality and lyrics. The duo had transformed into pimped out, futuristic, dandy fellows, elevating hip hop while introducing the underground afrofuturistic sound to the mainstream.

Look to the past and you will see the future

During this time Erykah Badu and Andre 3000 encountered each other. They met two years earlier in 1995 in a club where they played her song “On & On.” According to close friends, their connection was instantaneous, and it seems that Badu influenced his transition from baggy jeans and oversized jerseys to more experimental and eccentric clothing choices. Now fast-forward back to 1997/1998 and Aquemini’s release. You can hear and see Badu’s influence all over the still evolving duo. Combining the newfound afrofuturistic sound with their Southern roots, the Outkast duo experimented and evolved into an almost impossible to define new kind of hit making. While Baduizm seemed to focus more on returning to the African aesthetic, Aquemini blended different elements of African-American culture (of the ATL scene and pimp fashions). But both took elements of jazz and live bands with futurism to speak and expand on black music.

So what do we get? We get a lot of hit music, but more important we get a style with great social and political substance to it. This is a new way to look and create art and be, and not only is it speaking to large groups of young African-Americans, it’s speaking to the entire country.

Afrofuturism means to break from the past and look optimistically to the future, but it is still aware of and in opposition to oppression. Instead of making overt protest music, Badu and Outkast’s protest is indicated through their continued existence, dedication to craft, and a sense of the continued psychological oppression of African-Americans. Badu often speaks of the importance of gaining knowledge. In "On & On," she sings, “If your knowledge were your worth, then it would be well-learned.” Later on she stresses its importance again while referencing afrofuturist predecessors Parliament Funk and Sun Ra: “You rush into destruction ‘cause you don’t have nothing left/The mothership can’t save you so your ass is gon’ get left.” The mothership is the path to wisdom/enlightenment and of course Clinton’s creation, and we need to free our minds to enter. That’s a potent metaphor.

Get in and join the mothership to the future

Much like Sun Ra’s belief that only art will liberate people from racism and oppression, Badu and Outkast’s music seeks to enlighten black people and open their minds to a different lifestyle, one that embraces non-Western ideals of style and enlightenment. While their music was not typical of the genre at the time, it shows that these stylistically different forms of protest have not lost a sense of direct, social engagement. Now we accept protest in many forms: from Beyonce’s Lemonade to the Black Lives Matter movement, and they all work in conjunction with each other.

A little Baduizm for the Queen of Pop Hip Hop

But afrofuturism aims to break from past forms of protest, and we can see it in the style. Clothes have often demarcated groups and social movements, representing their core beliefs and creating a sense of comradery. Afrofuturism gives us a blend of styles ranging from high fashion to punk fashion, often tied together with African-inspired wear. And spacesuits. Sometimes. The key point: style leads to content. This is not to say that Erykah Badu’s iconic headwraps or Outkast’s permed hair and parachute pants are the key to ending racism, but their choice to don these garments speaks volumes. It rejects Western ideals of acceptable fashions for black people (in Outkast’s case, men in general), reinforcing their futuristic philosophies, and lead to more radical artistic exploration. Look at Outkast before and after Aquemini, wholistically: they transformed from ATL big-pimpin’ guys spitting gangsta rap to jazzy and eclectic guys (still spitting a little bit of gangsta rap but in a new and more thoughtful way). Style can go a long way, obviously. It informs the afrofuturistic life.

And style can bring like-minded people together. The best way to spot an Badu fan is through her (or his, or their): headwraps, large earrings and/or ornate jewelry, tribal face paint (optional), and a look of defiance with a hint of mystic wisdom in their eyes. Imagine two of these people linking up, and then fast-forward to hundreds and thousands of people linking up. There’s the movement. For example, the Afropunk festival gathers thousands of people every year - people who relate to the same culture and ideologies. It’s only appropriate to credit artists like Badu and Outkast for opening up the possibility for such gatherings. If Andre 3000 and Big Boi can wear blonde wigs and vintage striped suits comfortably in public, then you can too. And with the dawn of the internet, it is much easier for these people to bridge a connection. Afrofuturism is also a technology, so it’s only fitting.

STyLe

GOES a LOOOOOOOOnnnnnnnGGGGG

Way in Baduizm

However, afrofuturism is more than just its technological, musical or artistic references. It’s more than the sum of its parts; it’s a form of protest, emphasizing the need for spiritual and intellectual enlightenment, and freedom through style and artistic expression. To live the afrofuturistic life is a form of protest. Not only did Erykah Badu and Outkast bring this movement to the forefront, they pioneered it into the 21st century. The Black Panther film is only the beginning for 2018; we can be sure that by the end of the year the afrofuturistic catalogue will expand beyond our expectations. With the liberation of the black spirit in mind, we look to the future.

©Deborah Obanla and the CCA Arts Review