yasiin bey and his album that never was…

Devynity
5 min readFeb 3, 2020

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I am a huge fan of the artist formally known as Mos Def. I think it is important to start there. In fact, since Black Star emerged with their self-titled debut in 1998, I’ve been present. I own the Black Star album on both cassette and CD as well as most of what followed from both yasiin bey and his cohort Talib Kweli. Needless to say, he is among my top 5. I was in attendance at Dave Chappelle’s Block Party — yes, be jealous, for this is a whole flex. II attended a few Def Poetry Jam tapings where Mos was the host. I went to the movies to see The Italian Job, not for Mark Wahlberg, but for Mos! Fan, I tell you, a real one. So, it was without question that upon hearing that the rap god had decided to release an intimate EP available exclusively at the Brooklyn Museum, that I be one of those to hear it. I have purchased tickets to multiple concerts happily turning off my device, always at his request — he doesn’t like you having your phone out when he’s performing. Having been to several of his live performances, I can say that it can be quite a captivating experience. He wants you immersed in the experience. He brings out long stem roses and pulls at the petals before laying them all across his stage. Knowing the man’s proclivity for absolute attention to what’s happening in the present, this exhibit made perfect sense. And I was ready.

There’s a whole spiel. At the register I was asked if I was there for yasiin bey. An affirmative response gets you a $12 ticket to whatever time the next show starts. “The album is played at 30 minute intervals. The next one begins at 8pm.” I thanked the cashier and made my way to the entrance. From the outside you can see the tracklist for the album on the either side of the glass where the exhibit begins.

Upon entry, your phone is to be shut off and you’re given one of those impenetrable pouches with the sharp ass pin to secure your device. I was given headphones. I asked for a wipe for mine cuz who knows? Sis, looks at me and says, “You’re the first person to ask me for a wipe!” And I’m like…

After I got my disinfected headphones on, I walked through amid the crowd of fellow patrons. There is a piano playing. It’s pleasant “elevator music” preparing our sonic palates for the rap amuse-bouche we were to consume. There is wall text explaining the word “negus”, its origins and the origin of its use in hip-hop from rapper Kendrick Lamar on his seminal album To Pimp A Butterfly.

I’m appreciating the set up. The crowd files into the gallery which is cylindrical in shape and dimly lit. There are columns lined with cushioned Coca-Cola crates for sitting. It’s quaint. The art on the walls are visual collaborations with other artists. There were seven cyanotypes to the left of the space on the wall — renderings of a night time sky. To the right is an impressive rendering of embroidery on hemp titled Pleasant, 2019 showing a lifelike portrait of Nipsey Hussle in the upper left-hand corner of the piece. Nipsey looks like he’s in the Upper Room, the next place. We are being immersed into a dreamlike space.

Okay. I’m ready.

biographies of the artist and other key figures that inspired the project

I wanted to like it so badly. I waited for bars that never came. I waited for a semblance of structure in the beat patterns that would incite a headnod. But, nah. Some of the beats had a childlike quality to them — as if a baby with his first Fisher Price keyboard hearing the notes for the first time and thus compelled to beat the shit out of it until he figures out what sensory magic is happening. The beats really sounded like that.

Halfway through I started laughing. I looked at my watch. The album was about half over. My hope that anything good was coming out of this musically began to dissolve. I was feeling like the little boy in the Emperor’s New Clothes pointing out the nakedness,

like “c’mon buddy, you want me to listen to this knowing what you’re capable of and act like this is great? Or good?” Like wow, deadass? You had me come to Brooklyn, lock up my phone and sit me in a room with strangers looking blankly around an ambient room to not say anything amazing?! How dare you? You can’t skip ahead or rewind. I tried taking notes -

“Easy to Catch a fever, it’s a cold world”

“The facts been flux/the truth is unchanged”

That’s all I got between the lackluster beats and failed attempts at cohesive composition. It was just noisy. I get experimentation. I own The New Danger. This project lacked any Boogeyman bangers. There were no great 16s to scrunch my face up to on this project. It didn’t sound well mixed.

After it was over, I asked some other patrons what they thought. They waxed poetic about the need to establish spaces for listening like this — we’d been forced to pay attention. This was also the best part of it for me — the force of focus in a world where no one is truly listening to anything.

But, pay attention to what? I felt truly duped. This was a true finesse and I get it. It would have been successful for me as a fan though, if the desire to isolate us in a cultivated environment engineered for our listening, had matched the quality and content of the project we heard.

ijs. #disappointed

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Devynity
Devynity

Written by Devynity

Black Expressionist. Rap Enthusiast. Black and Excellent.