|
Post by Admin on Aug 5, 2020 20:19:22 GMT
Beyoncé’s Lion King-inspired visual album Black Is King came out on Disney+, and in the days following, I found myself searching for any cutting critical essays. A project so big by an artist so adored of course will bring in a great deal of praise, both rigorous and soft—if not some mix of the two.
Unsurprisingly, Black woman critics showed up with some of the best passes at reviewing the work, from Lauren Michele Jackson’s deep dive at The New Yorker to Angelica Bastien’s catalog of Beyoncé’s video work through the ages for Vulture (and while both pieces mostly had nice things to say, they both included some negative comments). In Essence, Judicaelle Irakoze warned of the revisionist monarchist messaging of Black Is King, while qualifying her critiques with her ardent love for Beyoncé and all that she represents. (Irakoze was still met on Twitter with the ire of the Beyhive.) Rachel Kaadzi Ghansah’s major and critical profile of the Beyhive (as well as Beyoncé herself), from 2014, received the expected fan reaction; while in the last few days, rapper and radical book club-organizer Noname has been eviscerated by Beyoncé fans for arguing that Black Is King offers a vision of an African continent “draped in capitalism.”
But still missing in the digital publishing world’s Black Is King sweep were any loudly dissenting, mischievous voices, the likes of which made me want to be a critic in the first place. Whatever my own thoughts about Black Is King, I was looking for some expansion, some challenge, some trouble. But in the midst of a celebrity culture in which access is tightly guarded and controlled by the stars and their teams, critics face a major dilemma when it comes to speech: Don’t self-censor but comment fearlessly from the margins, and expose your thoughts—no matter how measured—to the wrath of angry fans; or fawn away—hedging any minor criticisms with ample praise—and hope that the stars one day grant you that exclusive interview or (more cynically) lucrative collaboration.
|
|
|
Post by Admin on Aug 6, 2020 0:59:31 GMT
Capitalism’s death grip—and not the specter of “cancel culture”—is the real threat to journalistic free speech, particularly in a post-Gawker era. Gone are the days when all press was genuinely good press, and the rich and famous would welcome their adversaries through the mansion gates. Now, we pay for the crossed boundaries of the past with the sycophancy of the present. And the advent of social media, as many have argued, means that celebrities can simply hire PR teams (often former journalists) to get their names and stories out. But even when access is not a necessity, writers may find themselves avoiding strong criticisms of beloved celebrities altogether rather than risk being pursued by fans and iced out by reps. It’s also an American thing. The late Australian critic Clive James, weighing in on the state of book reviewing in the U.S., wrote that “America does polite literary criticism well enough. And how: there is a new Lionel Trilling on every campus. But America can’t do the bitchery of British book reviewing and literary commentary.” In fact, America doesn’t do the bitchery of British reviewing, full stop. Some of this politeness is fair—better to avoid the bad and obscure unless it is egregiously so. Of course, cultural giants like Beyoncé, Taylor Swift, Lana Del Rey, and Nicki Minaj will stay rich and famous no matter what I or any critic says about their work. Still, celebrities are people who live in a world rife with prejudices, and it’s good and fair for them to challenge their challengers. In previous years, there was a legitimate pushback against (mostly male) critics, particularly at platforms like Pitchfork, for judging women’s work more harshly and skeptically while fortifying the mythology of male genius. Pitchfork has since moved in a less skewed direction; however, a very fair, mostly laudatory 8.0-score review of Folklore by critic Jillian Mapes saw her viciously attacked, and doxxed, by Taylor Swift’s fans. So what are the fans and stars themselves protecting? Perhaps it’s the obvious: money, and perceived access to it. In a country increasingly defined by extreme income inequality, being conventionally successful in a cutthroat industry like music (as well as film and TV) can depend on hoarding wealth and public goodwill. Better to let the lowly writers beg for the interview that may ruin your cred, better to turn your cheek as your followers pile onto a reviewer who questions your entire aesthetic, the one you (and your team) worked so hard to craft. But then again, maybe it’s about feelings. These days, sparring is rare sport. If even the spectacularly wealthy are hopelessly fragile, then what hope do we have at fostering a healthy dose of bitchery in the press? A few times a year, I scout around for a sharp tongue: maybe at The Baffler or Bookforum or The New York Review of Books (blog). (I don’t imagine that any of these writers are getting the premium payout or even retweets from the biggest names, but they’re usually white and/or pedigreed, so the fall from grace may land much easier.) Beyond the dredges of Twitter—where, to the grim amusement of bystanders, flagrantly bad-faith takes tend to outweigh consideration—everybody wants to appear magnanimous. Sometimes we call this nuance, and sometimes it is. But often, what’s worth reviewing isn’t what strikes us as the best or worst thing, but instead consists of moments of brilliance and stretches of failure. If we keep telling our most popular artists that only their bright spots count, then flash is all we’ll ever see.
|
|
|
Post by Admin on Aug 10, 2020 5:40:47 GMT
Beyoncé may have just found her youngest backup dancers yet: Ayesha Curry's daughters. The host of "Ayesha's Homemade" and wife of NBA player Stephen Curry shared a video Saturday on Instagram of Riley, 8, and Ryan Carson, 5, showing off their best moves to Beyoncé's "Already" track. The two sisters are seen on a back of a pick-up truck, with Ryan seated on the edge looking fly wearing sunglasses paired with a denim jacket over her tartan dress while Riley takes center stage in a black and white plaid blazer and shades. http://instagram.com/p/CDozi0QnFJa As "Already" begins playing, Riley starts dancing mimicking (almost too perfectly) Beyoncé's choreography from the "Black is King" visual. Riley did not come to play, she came to slay. And Ryan played the perfect hype woman as she sat and mouthed the words to the song with effortless swagger. The sisters' video received lots of praise from celebs who were equally impressed with their dancing abilities. "THEY SHUT IT DOWN. They won," Storm Reid commented on Curry's post. http://instagram.com/p/CDkjhHCnft4 Gabrielle Union, Karrueche and others remarked at how "obsessed" they were with the girls. "WOW!!! they're stars," wrote R&B duo, Chloe and Halle. We should've known Riley was going to be a star after she adorably crashed her father's postgame press conference in 2015. Beyoncé's "Black is King," which she produced after starring as Nala in the 2019 "Lion King" remake, has found fans in every age group. Last week, just a day after the project's release, Adele shared a rare Instagram photo of herself crouching down under a TV playing "Black is King." The British pop star is seen raising her arm drawing attention to the screen while wearing a brown shirt that matches Queen Bey's in the frame. "Thank you Queen for always making us all feel so loved through your art," Adele captioned the post, adding two black heart emojis.
|
|
|
Post by Admin on Aug 10, 2020 19:37:38 GMT
Everyone knows Beyoncé is carefully private when it comes to her personal life, so when eight-year-old Blue Ivy and three-year-old twins Rumi and Sir were featured in her visual album Black Is King, many fans were beside themselves. On August 7 the Grammy winner’s good friend Manuel A. Mendez, who styled the twins, shared another rare look at the family’s personal life, posting the sweetest video of Beyoncé dancing with her son. In the Instagram clip, Sir looks dapper in a tiny pastel blue Giorgio Armani suit, which he wore with a rainbow unicorn headband while in his mom’s arms. http://instagram.com/p/CDmVUIwJRTu “I’m so grateful for every opportunity @beyonce (The Carter Family) has give [sic] me throughout the years,” Mendez captioned the post. “You trust me with your most precious jewels, your children. I love you, and I love the kids more, Thank you.” The behind-the-scenes footage was briefly featured at the end of the Black Is King as the film concluded with a sweet dedication to Beyoncé’s son that read: “And to all our sons and daughters, the sun and the moon bow for you. You are the keys to the kingdom.”
|
|
|
Post by Admin on Aug 23, 2020 19:16:04 GMT
It has been unapologetic Blackness ever since, with Queen Bee shoving into the limelight reinvigorated brand of identity that dares to feel pride in spite of centuries of injuries. In many ways, capitalizing on the opportunity offered by the live-action remake of the Disney classic was a chance only Beyoncé was fit to take. In July of last year when she spoke to Robin Roberts about the record, Beyoncé herself sold The Gift as an artistic venture that sought to touch base with its primary source. “This soundtrack is a love letter to Africa, and I wanted to make sure we found the best talent from Africa, and not just use some of the sounds and did my interpretation of it. I wanted it to be authentic to what is beautiful about the music in Africa,” she told Roberts on ABC. The collaborative results on the album matched Beyoncé’s intention even though there was surprisingly just one collaboration with a South African musician, rapper Busiswa. South Africa is popularly acknowledged as the setting of The Lion King story. Producers and musicians from across Africa were invited for various roles for Black Is King. Dancehall artiste Shatta Wale, Afrobeats crowd-pullers Burna Boy and Wizkid, as well as singers Oumou Sangaré and Yemi Alade were some of the talents who joined Beyoncé on the 17-track album. There is no denying that this was one of the biggest boosts if not the biggest to the careers of all of the talents. In the year that passed, all of them have granted interviews where they have been forced to speak on how it felt to work with the most successful living Black songstress. Black Is King is a rehashing of the Oedipal Lion King. It tells the story of a young African king who was forced by intrigue to face the world, bereft of elderly protection and guidance, but who returns home to claim his rightful place. Beyoncé narrated the film providing motherly omniscience. She makes it abundantly clear that the child is a king Already (song with Shatta Wale) and that the Brown Skin Girl (with Wizkid and Blue Ivy Carter) should be appreciated for who she is. Going through initial remarks a few weeks ago, it was clear that a lot of Africans appreciated the effort to include substantial footage from Africa in the 85-minute film. The sounds and the dances also paid homage to what is known in Ghana, Nigeria, South Africa, and other parts of the continent. However, there is still a sizable number of people who were not pleased that Beyoncé took the creative license to romanticize the African condition. It is understandable why she would do that – she spoke of Black people arresting the negative narrative that has persisted for so long and seizing the means to tell our own story. But many fear that the mysticism that Beyoncé slid into her vision of Africa was denotative of African-American desperation to see a “magical Africa”. Aside from that, she is also accused of lumping together all of Africa like it is one nation. What can one say in defense of Beyoncé? Almost all of her artistic conclusions are met with either warmth or criticism with very little room for nuance. In the case of Black Is King, all the aforementioned criticisms seem valid. They are curiously valid yet ineffectual in a way that they do not take away from what Beyoncé set out to achieve. Living her Afrocentric dream in the full glare of a global audience, Beyoncé wanted to touch base with Africa in a way that has never been done by an artiste from the African diaspora. And it would seem that if she did not at least establish a perfect contact, Beyoncé has started a much-needed relationship for the profit of the global black community.
|
|